Page 28 of Hat Trick Heart

“Okay, you guys. Now I’m gonna drop the puck and you guys get it! Cleanly! Don’t hammer each other and high-stick!”

“Yeah, Rebel. Don’t hit me,” her brother grouches.

“I told you that was an accident,” she mutters, glaring at Jaxon.

Emile chuckles. “It might have been but you still need to be careful. You could have really hurt Jaxon if he wasn’t wearing his helmet.”

Not that Emile would ever let our kids mess around without being fully protected. He’s a wonderful father and I can’t believe how lucky I am.

“Mmmm,” Kat growls as she gnaws happily on her teething ring. I laugh and chuck her under the chin, wiping away the trail of drool that’s dripping.

“Is that good, baby?” She giggles at me, her glorious green eyes that are the exact same shade as her daddy’s smiling at me happily.

She is the happiest baby. Nothing phases her, even her brother and sister arguing right next to her. Even her daddy taking her around the skate rink in his big, burly arms.

He’s taken his dad’s memory to heart and every chance he gets he’s out on the ice with our babies, all three of them. He even works as an assistant coach on our son’s team. The ten-year-olds think he’s a god and can’t get enough of his help. He tries to keep things focused but every once in awhile I see them asking him for stories about his days in hockey.

It’s been twelve years since we got married and every single day of them has been amazing. Especially since he talked me into following my own dream.

After our first year of marriage, he sat me down and said that he wanted me to think about writing that book I’d always wanted to. Even that I should quit and just focus on the hard work of making that dream come true.

It was even more successful than either of us thought it would be. By the time he was ready to retire the next year, I was already successfully writing and publishing my first series, a three-book series that might become more. The collection is a magical fairytale with fairies and dragons, princes and princesses, all wrapped up in a story of epic travels and fights that has been rattling around in my head for years.

My very own hockey-wielding prince gave me the opportunity and the joy and support that I needed to tell my tales and finally let others enjoy them.

And headlining those stories was a young girl with emerald eyes and dark hair just like our daughter, the picture of my Emile. My fiery little Rebel is the very image of my heroine, a girl who dresses as a knight and hides who she is to live the adventures she wants to live until one knight sees her heart underneath the armor she wears inside and out and wins her love. She’s a girl who lives to be more than what everyone tells her that she is.

It was a massive success and Emile retired and takes care of everything that I can’t when I’m on a deadline and buried under my work.

“Hey, sweetheart! How about you go ahead and get Kat ready and I’ll take us all out to get some dinner tonight so you can take a break.”

I smile. “You spoil me, Emile!”

“You’re easy to spoil.” He smiles his huge, playful grin that makes me happier than I ever thought I could be.

We go out to the kids’ favorite diner in town and then we head back home to the kids getting ready for bed and I read them a story that I just finished working on. It will take us many nights to finish the story but sometimes the tale takes a long time and it deserves that effort.

After a couple of chapters, I set the book down and tuck the kids in, kissing their cheeks and grabbing the book, ducking out of the room and gently shutting the door.

As soon as I turn around, I’m gently pushed into the door by Emile, his green eyes burning with need.

I smile and gently tap at his chest. “Did you need something, honey?”

“Just you,” he says and his lips come down on mine, teasing mine open until I’m groaning and wrapping my arms around his neck, smacking him in the head.

He pulls away and growls at me. I giggle, shrieking softly when he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.

“Stop it!” I whisper. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“When are you going to figure it out? You will not hurt me. You’re light as a feather and I like hauling you around.” He slaps my ass and I squeal quietly.

“Neanderthal,” I hiss.

He throws me on our bed and grins, stripping quickly out of his jeans and t-shirt. Then he grabs my ankle and starts to strip me out of my pants, grinning when I laugh and roll around.

“Dang it, Emile! You know that tickles,” I huff.

“I also know how to fix that.” I moan when his warm fingers slip inside my pussy lips and gently stroke my throbbing clit.

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