Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
He chuckles and puts the necklace on me, letting his fingertips brush against my neck. Then he sweeps me up into his arms. “Let’s go get married.”
EPILOGUE
MAGGIE
“Daddy! He burned my marshmallow again!” Angel, our six-year-old daughter complains, shooting her older brother a reproachful look.
“That’s not burned. It’s flavoring,” Miles insists. At eight years old, he’s already taller than all of the other boys in his class. He’s also exactly like his father. From his dark hair and deep brown gaze to the way he protects those he loves. Except times like now when he’s teasing his sister.
“Trade with me,” Crew says as he passes our oldest daughter his nicely browned marshmallow and accepts her burned one. Our family of six is sitting in front of the fireplace making s’mores. The wind outside is howling, and a snowstorm is predicted.
The kids are delighted to be out of school for the coming week and we’re all hunkered down at home. I plan to catch up on my reading and sneak some sexy time in with my handsome mountain man.
Crew finishes putting together his s’mores, careful not to disturb our four-year-old who has fallen asleep with her head on her daddy’s thigh. He offers me the first bite of the treat.
I shift our six-month-old daughter in my arms and lean forward to accept it, laughing when some of the sticky marshmallow hits my chin.
The look on my husband’s face tells me he wants to lick it off then spend the rest of the night licking his way all across my body.
I shiver at the wordless exchange, knowing the fun we’ll have together later tonight.
He finally reaches over with his sleeve and cleans my chin. “Soon,” he murmurs as he senses the growing need in me.
“Daddy, tell it again,” Angel says. Every time it snows, she asks for this story. She begs her father to share it with her.
“Alright, pumpkin, one more time,” he says.
She reaches for him, and he carefully settles her on his lap, somehow managing to keep the four-year-old from waking.
“Once upon a time there was a—”
“Grumpy, growly mountain man,” Miles fills in proudly. He knows this story by heart just like Angel does.
“Shh, not you. Daddy should tell it.” Angel sticks out her tongue at her brother.
Crew continues on, “And he was driving up the mountain.”
She interrupts, “In a snowstorm that was cold and bitter, right, Daddy? Right? See, I know it too, Miles.”
“But there was a wreck. A black limo had an accident,” I add, grinning at Crew when he reaches for my hand and squeezes it.
He continues the story, “Inside the limo was the world’s most beautiful woman. She was—”
“The pixie queen!” Miles nearly shouts.
Our sleeping little ones stir but quickly settle again.
Crew sends Miles a look. “Indoor voice, son.” He’s forever having to remind Miles not to shout. Not that it’s his fault. Our boy has an endless supply of energy and it’s not easy being cooped up in the cabin during long winter months.
Angel grins up at Crew. She adores her father. Just like I do, she looks at him and sees her hero, her protector, and her biggest fan. “Then the grumpy, growly mountain man took the pixie queen home with him. And they lived happily ever after. Right? That’s my favorite part, Daddy.”
Miles frowns. “Dad, you said there was an extended cut.”
I smother a chuckle at the look on Crew’s face.
“That’s for when you’re older,” he gruffly insists.
“But I want to hear it now!” Our son protests.
I decide to have pity on my poor husband. “It involves lots of cuddling and kissing. Do you want to hear all about the kissy faces your dad and I made with each other?”
“Yuck,” Miles complains.
Crew clears his throat. “It’s time for bed, kids. Remember you have to get to sleep early tonight so we can build the snow fort tomorrow.”
At his words, they race off to the bathroom to brush their teeth, arguing with each other over who is going to build a better snow fort.
I raise an eyebrow. “You told him there was an extended cut?”
“I mutter one thing under my breath,” he says as he gathers our four-year-old up in his arms. “Don’t move, mama. I got the kiddos tonight.”
After he’s put the older three to bed, Crew comes back for the baby. He puts her in the nursery, returning to the living room with the baby monitor.
“All settled?” I ask.
“Yep, teeth brushed, prayers said, and water drank.”
“Then there’s just one more person to put to bed,” I tease.
He scoops me into his arms effortlessly and I snuggle into his embrace. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been through four pregnancies and watched my body change in a million different ways, he’s still delighted by it. He still loves every curve and spends his nights worshipping them.