Series: Silver Spoon MC Series by Nichole Rose
Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 87(@200wpm)___ 70(@250wpm)___ 58(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 87(@200wpm)___ 70(@250wpm)___ 58(@300wpm)
“Nope.” My twin smiles and looks down at the baby in her arms. “This is Harley.” Then she points at the baby her husband is holding. “And David is in his daddy’s arms.”
“Jesus.” I roll my eyes so hard I get a headache. “Why don’t you just hang kick-me signs on their backs?” I reach down for my nephew, and my twin hands him over. Cuddling the sweet-smelling baby against my chest, I grumble, “Hopefully, they’re giants like their dad, or these poor boys will be getting their asses kicked daily.”
The next day, I pick my husband up from the airport, and we stop by the hospital for him to meet our new nephews.
“Any word on him passing out?” The brothers all had bets going on whether or not the President would faint at the birth.
“Hadley would neither confirm nor deny,” I tell him. “You’ll have to work on getting it out of Cash.”
Karma comes back to bite my husband in the ass eight months later when he faints cold in the delivery room.
epilogue-cowboy
Ten years later
“Okay.” I glance back in the rearview mirror to see if my five kids are all buckled in. “I’m only going to ask one time. Does everyone have their toys?” We had dinner at the local fast-food restaurant, and the four younger kids all got toys with their meals. I’m doing a solo mission with dinner since my wife’s pregnancy with numbers six and seven is taking its toll on her. I lost my fucking mind and decided to take the entire tribe out to give her the night off. After two spilled sodas, a fight over the last French fry, and an argument over who got the best toy, I’m ready to go home and put them in bed. It takes a miracle for us to go anywhere without forgetting something, so I’ve gotten in the habit of asking before I start the vehicle.
“I can’t find my toy,” Ella screeches, and I take a deep breath and pray for patience. Putting my wife’s SUV in park, I turn on the overhead light.
“Everyone, look for her toy,” I tell the kids. Grumbling goes through the group as they unbuckle and start searching.
“Ella,” My seven-year-old son, Nathan, growls, “it’s in your hand.”
My adorable, flighty daughter looks down at the pink squishy ball she’s holding in her right hand and shrugs. “Oh yeah. I forgot.”
A collective groan moves through the vehicle as I turn off the light and back out of the parking spot.
The kids chatter on the entire way to the ranch while I let my blood pressure stabilize. I don’t know how my wife keeps her sanity staying home with our wild crew. After our oldest was born, Kyra and Hadley hired a general manager to oversee Petal Pushers. Both sisters are too busy with all the kids to handle running the flower shop, too.
I find my wife lying on the sofa with a cold washcloth on her head when I come through the door with the tribe. “You guys go upstairs. I’m going to check on Mommy, then I’ll be up to help you guys shower.”
“I want a bubble bath.” Five-year-old Ella pouts. As the only girl, she usually gets her way.
“Okay.” I smile down at my wife’s mini-me.
I turn to Cruise, my nine-year-old son. “Make sure no one ends up in a headlock and please help Carson and Cannon find their PJs.” The kids all rush upstairs, and before long, the three-year-old twins are both screaming. Sighing, I tell my groaning wife, “I’ll be right back.”
“It’s not my fault.” Cruise huffs. “Carson wanted to wear motorcycle PJs tonight, and Cannon wanted the soldier ones instead.” My oldest son shrugs. “I let them work it out.” Our identical twins both insist on wearing the same outfits. It’s getting difficult since they don’t always agree on what they want to wear.
After I separate the combatants and make the twins come to an agreement, I rush downstairs to check on my wife.
Kneeling beside the sofa, I run my hand through my wife’s hair and ask, “How are you feeling?”
“You’re getting snipped this time.” She groans. “I mean it for real. We had the first five you asked for and two spares. I’m done.”
“We’ll see.” I laugh. During each pregnancy, she swears I’m getting a vasectomy. But when the baby comes, she changes her mind.
epilogue 2-kyra
One year later
Standing at the back door, I listen to the men giving my husband hell and laugh to myself. I peek around the corner to watch the show.
“I can’t believe you’re getting neutered.” Rulie shudders and hands Landon another beer. Next week, he’s keeping his promise to get snipped. After our last set of twins came six weeks early, we decided not to chance any more pregnancies. Hands recommended an outstanding surgeon since not just anybody is putting a scalpel next to my husband’s lovely cock.