Page 63 of Secret Baby for the Bad Boy

Together, we cook a hearty stew with the ingredients that stock the kitchen. When the food is done, we work together to get it on the table, talking every second. He wants two more kids. I want one, and I hope for a girl, not that it really matters. He wants to retire at fifty, I want to work until I’m too tired to anymore. We’re so different, but alike where it matters.

We both want to work hard now to enjoy later. We want to pour ourselves into our son, to make sure he knows he’s loved and important, and amazing. We want to live lives we don’t need to escape from, but can choose to anytime we wish.

And as we dig into our stew, I wonder if this is what life is supposed to be like.

“Is this what happiness feels like?” I ask him as we finish our meal.

“I think so,” he says, gathering up our dishes and heading into the kitchen to wash them. I follow him in and shoulder to shoulder, we clean everything and set it all to dry on the rack.

Later, when we’re tired, we sit by the fireplace, listening to the crackling and popping.

He pulls me closer, his eyes filled with love, and this feels like home. Not the cabin, him. He feels like where I’m meant to be.

Over the next few days, we get out and really live. We hike up trails, savoring the firm earth beneath our boots. At the peak, we watch rolling clouds skate along the mountains far below, white over green that shifts to blue like a natural gradient.

And I feel a peace here that I've never known—a calm that seeps into my bones.

Back home, we drag a blanket out into the yard as the brilliant hues of the sunset fade.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” I say as we lay on the blanket in the grass as the stars twinkle overhead.

“Thank you for saying yes,” he replies, his fingers tracing patterns on my lower back as I curl into him.

I wish the weekend would never end, even though I do miss Damon, Win, Carol, and Shana. But we’re having fun and getting lost in one another, just like I worried we might.

But somehow, it’s okay. I’m happy. This feels like it was meant to be. Like fate, maybe.

“I could get used to this,” I say, leaning into him as we watch the dawn break with hot cups of coffee in hand.

“Us?” he asks, sounding hopeful.

“Us,” I say, because there's no denying it now—I’m in love with him, and I’m pretty sure he’s in love with me.

“What do you want to do today, love?” he asks.

And I glance over at him. “Maybe stay in today?” I say, hoping he understands what I’m hinting – not so subtly – at, because while we’ve had fun, we’ve been too tired every night to make love, and I’m really craving his touch.

He gives a wolfish grin and gently squeezes my thigh, making his forearm flex. “That sounds like a plan.”

My heart beats a little bit faster as I think about the possibilities the day holds. And all of them include me being sore tomorrow in the best possible way.

When the sun begins to set on our truly perfect day, I find myself in the bedroom, staring out over the majesty before us. Lark walks up behind me, kissing my neck and revving my body up for another round. I want to melt into him, give him anything he asks, because he’s just too perfect for me. This time away has taught me that I want him in my life as a permanent fixture.

The sun dips behind the mountains, casting a golden-orange glow across everything. Lark's hand finds mine, his grip strong yet gentle, as he continues kissing me, sending a shiver down my spine as excitement flutters in my chest.

“You are amazing,” he says, and I reach up with one hand, touching his hair before turning my head to meet him in a kiss.

“So are you,” I whisper against his lips. I can’t imagine a more perfect end to a perfect day.

His arm slips around my shoulders, the other around my waist, pulling me back into his body in a way that gets my blood pumping.

“You better stop that, mister,” I tease, remembering how he’d been the one needing a break, though the soreness in me made me gratefully agree.

“There’s one more thing,” he says, and I’m dragged back to the day of the scavenger hunt when he’d spoiled both me and Win.

“Oh no, you don’t,” I say, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“You can’t stop me,” he says.

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