Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
“I’m sure it’ll happen when he least expects it.” We cackle before sitting down at the dining room table. We usually all eat in the eat-in kitchen, but with everyone here, Mrs. McCray spread everything out on the table, and I feel bad instantly that I wasn’t here to help her.
“It better, or I’ll sic Mary on him, that’s for sure.” Trace takes his seat next to me, and Julia zips her lips with a wink.
“Oh, I can only imagine how you’re welcoming Dove into your fold. Wolf better watch out. Between Momma, you, Dove, and Blakely, he’ll fall like a house of cards, and soon.” Trace picks up my plate, piling it high with pancakes and bacon, fruit, but making sure my food doesn’t touch because that will ruin my appetite. That isn’t a side effect of pregnancy, just a preference. If I wanted to taste everything at once, I’d put it in a blender and mix it all.
“Jesus, Trace, she’s not eating for five people,” Wolf states. He’s already tucked into his plate.
“Oh my God, Trace, he’s right. When have you ever seen me eat this much for breakfast?” I state, but then tack on a snort, unable to hold back.
“What? You’re eating for two, and I told you, my bet is on a boy. He needs to be big and strong.” Though he does move two pancakes off my plate and onto his.
“Yeah, well, it’s not your vagina it’ll be coming out of, ding-dong.” That comes from Blakely. I swear she’s a breath of fresh air. She’s also one of those girls who will always have your back.
“Jesus, Knox. Handle your woman.” Trace could barely get that out through his laughter. I take my plate before he makes a mess, shake my head loving the fact that this is our family. Bad jokes, crazy moms, and rowdy men, it’s the feeling of rightness settling deep within my soul.
Epilogue
Trace
One Year Later
When you’re right, you’re right, and that’s exactly what’s happening right now. We’re by the creek in our backyard, everyone we could get here on such short notice, even though the moms and Dove had a year to plan our wedding. It sure snuck up on us, especially when an eight-pound baby boy made his presence known in the middle of the night. Our son, who’s presently in my mom’s arms, sleeping softly and missing his mom coming up along the hillside. Dove finally did get over her fear of riding horses, which is why she’s sitting side saddle on the horse I gifted her after Matthew was born.
“You’re one lucky son of a bitch,” Wolf grunts. He and Knox are standing beside me. Blakely and Dove’s mom are standing up for her. I’m not watching anyone else though. Nope, my eyes are firmly on the woman who made me hold out for well over a year before my name was attached to hers.
“Don’t I know it.” Dove’s dad helps her slide off her all-white horse, Angel. And believe me, that horse is every bit hers. Dove may bitch, moan, and complain when it comes to bath time, which has her dying in laughter after she’s clean, and Angel finds the only dirt pile in the pasture to roll around in it, dirtying herself all up again.
I’m sure I look like a loon with the smile I’m sporting, and believe me, this get-up I’m wearing is for Dove, otherwise I’d be in jeans, my old broken-down boots, and maybe a nice dress shirt. Instead, she and both of our moms ganged up on me. So, I’m wearing a suit, a nice pair of boots, and a black Stetson. Though with the way Dove’s eyes are locked on mine, I’d have never been a dick about it in the first place. Her hair is down in soft curls, that auburn hair that I love fisting in my hands if it’s just to kiss her, massage her after a long day of writing, or if it’s when we’re in bed.
Dove’s father, Russell, walks her down the aisle, the slit of her wedding dress giving me a glimpse of her shapely leg and showing off the boots she’s wearing. That’s one of the things she stood her ground on when her mom suggested wearing heels. The groom and the bride would have his and hers boots, so that’s what she got. A white dress that molds to her curvier body after having our son only amplifies her beauty. It shows off her shoulders, cleavage, that smooth skin I love to feel beneath my fingers. Christ, if I’m not careful, this woman of mine will have me carrying her back to our house right after our vows are said.
When she finally reaches me, tears are in her eyes, as are in her father’s. I imagine they had a meaningful talk. I suspect they won’t stop until everything is said and done.