Page 17 of Wild Mountain Ma n

Her smile widened. “For the rest of my life.”

EPILOGUE

TEAGAN

Iknew something was up as soon as I pulled into the driveway. The lights were off in the living room, which wasn’t like Krebs at all. Usually, I arrived home to see a warm glow coming from all the front windows.

We’d been married for five years, and my candy shop was open seven days a week. The best five years of my life. That meant seven days a week for five years, I’d come home to find my husband in the living room, usually with our daughter.

Not tonight, though. Not this entire weekend. This weekend, our four-year-old daughter, Raquel, was spending the weekend at our friend’s house so we could celebrate our anniversary and Valentine’s Day, which we never got to celebrate because the store was so busy. This year, we were celebrating in March—the anniversary of the day we’d gotten married five years ago.

But tonight, as I pulled into the driveway after a long day at the shop, it was clear things were off. The lights were out, but Krebs’ truck was right here. What was he up to?

I smiled as I grabbed the tote bag I took to work every day. It held my laptop and my now-empty lunch bag. I slid my phoneinside and shut the car door, staring at the house as I made my way up the sidewalk.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that I’d approached this very cabin with the man who would become my husband. And now this place where I lost my virginity was the home where we were raising our daughter and maybe another child soon.

Both our schedules were so busy, it was hard to imagine taking on an infant while running my candy store. I’d still been making candies out of our kitchen when Raquel was born. It hadn’t been easy, but I at least had some flexibility.

“I’m home,” I called out, waiting for the response that might give me a hint of what my husband was up to.

I smelled food, but I couldn’t quite identify what type. Krebs was a great cook. He regularly had dinner on the table when I got home. He also often picked up Raquel from daycare if I couldn’t get away from the store in time.

I frowned. Krebs wasn’t in the kitchen. He wasn’t anywhere to be found, and most of the house was visible from the front door.

I squinted to see in the near-dark—the only light was streaming through the French doors that led out to our deck. The deck where we often sipped coffee in the morning and wine and beer in the evening. We didn’t get the chance to do wine and beer in the evening very often, though, thanks to having a four-year-old around, but I wouldn’t trade my after-work hugs from Raquel for anything.

I noticed flickering coming from the bedroom and tilted my head. “What are you up to?” I called out as I started toward the room.

But as soon as I stepped in the doorway, I saw candles all around and rose petals covering the bed. Romantic instrumental music came through the small speaker stationed on the dresser.

“I had dinner warming in the oven, but I thought you might want an appetizer first,” he said.

“You want to work up an appetite?” I asked.

My husband wasn’t the rose petals and candlelight type of guy. I’d never even mentioned to him that I thought about those two things the night we made love for the first time. Somehow, he’d known. Somehow, he always knew.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he said, turning to face me.

“Right back at you.”

To his credit, he was shirtless, while I still wore the khakis and Blue Ridge Bonbons T-shirt I wore to work every day. I was definitely wearing far more clothes than he was.

“You spend so much time making other people’s holidays and anniversaries romantic,” he said. “I wanted to do a little something for you for a change.”

“You do stuff for me all the time. You put all that shelving in. You make dinner. You run me a bubble bath and watch Raquel after I’ve had a rough day.”

“All things that are part of being a good partner,” he said. “This is specifically for you. To pamper you. Now, get those clothes off.”

As he said those words, he was already walking toward me, and my heart sped up with each step he took. He still had the power to do that to me, even after all these years. And I knew, even on our twentieth anniversary, I’d be just as hot for him.

My hands went to his chest, running over his pecs, admiring his strength. His muscles flexed as he grabbed the hem of my T-shirt and pulled it up, forcing me to lift my arms to get the shirt up over my head. I helped by removing my pants, and he did the same with his until we were both wearing only our underwear.

“Now what?” I asked.

He gestured toward the bed, and I went in that direction. I stopped next to it, not sure how the rose petals worked.

“Lie on top,” he said. “That’s part of the pampering experience.”

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