Page 103 of Twins for the Mountain Daddies

After about fifteen minutes, Hank slows the truck and pulls into a clearing. I blink, stepping out onto solid ground and looking around.

The view that stretches out in front of me is the most breathtaking I’ve seen yet.

The mountains roll on forever, their peaks dusted in white, framed against a sky so blue it looks unreal. The valley below is a patchwork of gold and green, the trees swaying in the wind like they’re welcoming us home.

I take a slow, stunned breath. “Wow.”

Hank shifts next to me, hands in his pockets, watching me instead of the view.

I shake my head, completely overwhelmed. “I never want to leave.”

He finally speaks, voice rough. “You won’t have to.”

My brows pull together. “What do you mean?”

Hank clears his throat, shifting like he’s suddenly uncomfortable. “Come on,” he mutters, nodding toward a spot a few feet away.

I follow, because really, what else am I going to do? The other two trail behind, and when we reach the spot, I see them—blueprints.

Okay, technically, schematics.

But that’s not the point. The point is: Hank has them spread out on the hood of the truck, weighed down with a couple of rocks, and I can tell by the way his hands flex at his sides that this is important to him. That this is big.

My stomach flips. “What’s this?”

Hank doesn’t answer right away, just watches me with those steady, unreadable eyes of his. Then?—

“Our house.”

I swear, the wind gets knocked right out of me.

I blink down at the schematics, taking in the rough outlines of walls, rooms, the way the space flows together. And then I see it—big, open living areas, a kitchen meant foractualcooking, bedrooms—multiple. Enough for the twins. Formorethan just the twins.

“Oh my God.”

Wyatt chuckles, stepping up behind me and resting his chin on my shoulder. “It’s got everything we’ll need,” he murmurs. “Enough space for all of us. Plenty of room for the babies to run around. And Hank’s even talking about adding one of those big wraparound porches you like so much.”

Holt leans against the truck, arms crossed, grinning. “It’s gonna be a hell of a lot of work, but with some help, we’ll get it done right about the time the twins are big enough to start tearing the place up.”

My heart ispounding.

Hank lets out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’ll be building it myself,” he says, like he’s already anticipating an argument. “With help from some guys I’ve worked with before. But—this is my thing. I want to do this for you. Forus.”

For a second, I can’t move. I’m not even sure I’m breathing.

Wyatt starts laughing as I wrap my arms around his neck. Holt is right there, solid and steady, pressing a kiss to my temple. And Hank—Hank doesn’t move at first, just watches with those sharp, serious eyes.

So I reach for him.

He steps into me, his hands firm on my waist, and when I tip my head back to look at him, his face softens.

“I love you,” I whisper.

The words come easy, like breathing.

And then he’s kissing me—they’rekissing me—Wyatt laughing into my mouth, Holt’s hands warm on my back, Hank’s grip tight like he’s never letting go.

Tears slip down my cheeks, but I don’t care.

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