Page 97 of Tiny's Law

“But if you’re not happy about this yet, I will hold your hand and do whatever you need me to do until we are.”

Tears pool on my lids. All this damn crying! I must be pregnant.

I drop my forehead to rest against his while we breathe the same air. “Why are you so perfect?”

“I’m far from perfect, baby. But I’ll live every day to be perfect for you.”

After a few beats, he wraps his arms fully around my waist and pulls me down into his lap. Gripping my cheek in his hand, he forces me to look up at him. “Now. Are we happy about this?”

It takes me no time at all to answer him. Just the thought of a small baby resting in his big hands against his burly chest makes me melt. The image of him pushing a little blonde girl on the swings makes butterflies erupt in my belly. I smile wide at him and nod. “We’re happy about this.”

A woosh of breath fans across my face, and he squeezes my head to his chest. “Oh, thank fuck.”

I laugh as he presses kisses all over my face.

Tiny is a dominating male ninety percent of the time, but my ol’ man turns into a soft teddy bear just when he needs to, and I can’t imagine a better man to raise my babies with.

Epilogue Two

Tiny

“Jesus, these kids are going to give me a heart attack,” Ghost grumbles as we all stand on the edge of the field behind the clubhouse.

“Blame Razor for this one, boss,” Tex chuckles as he watches his daughter, Lilly, turn and fling dirt and sand all over Razor’s son, John.

Razor had the bright idea of getting all the boys four-wheelers for Christmas. It’s not the boys that are stressing me out. No, it’s the fact that Emery found out all the boys were getting four-wheelers and pitched an absolute fit that the girls weren’t getting some, too. So what did her pushover of a dad do? Bought every single girl a four-wheeler, too.

I have to agree with Ghost here, though. I can feel my blood pressure rising. Every time Jilly even gets within five yards of someone else, my stomach drops out of my asshole.

“And you guys don’t understand why Lilah and I never wanted kids,” Ringer laughs, shaking his head as he watches all his nieces and nephews tear into the dirt.

I can’t believe how many kids there are between us. We went from not having a single kid in the club to this. I think we’re up to seventeen or so now.

Brody jumps off his bike and runs up to me. “Did you see that, Dad?” he shouts as if the helmet on his head would make it so I couldn’t hear him.

I nod with a smile. “I see you, buddy. You having fun?”

“This is the best Christmas ever!”

“I don’t like driving myself, Daddy,” a sweet little voice says behind me, and I turn to see Ghost bent at the knee as he fixes Mara’s helmet. “Can I ride with Brody, please?”

Ghost raises a stern brow and looks at me. I lift my hands and pretend like I need to check Brody’s helmet.

Ever since these two were in diapers, they have been attached at the hip. Brody’s a boys boy. Kourtney constantly complains about the many bugs he enjoys catching, and he nearly always has a scabbed knee or two and bruises from head to toe. Jilly never gave us any issues, but we’ve been in the ER with broken bones four or five times with Brody. He’s only seven.

Kourtney claims every gray hair on her head is named Brody.

I chuckle when I catch a glimpse of Mara pouting her lip at her dad. He absolutely hates the fact that she’s obsessed with my son.

She is the complete opposite of Brody. His little girl hates dirt, and she always looks like a dress-up box threw up on her. Take now, for example. She is clad from head to toe in a princess dress. She even has satin gloves from her elbows to the tips of her fingers. The helmet Ghost got for her even has a built-in princess crown. How the two of them can be so opposite yet be glued to each other baffles me.

“Brody,” Ghost calls.

My son spins on his heel and looks up through his helmet at Ghost. “Yeah?”

“Can Mara ride with you? You guys can ride right over here, away from everyone else.”

“Pushover,” I cough under my breath.

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