Page 23 of Craving the Bad Boy

But now, Tammy has to decide if she believes me.

Honestly, I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. After all the horrible things she told me about her father, it’s a wonder she’s even strong enough to go at life on her own. She’s an absolute wonder. The definition of resilience.

And as the rain picks up and fat drops of rain pelt down on me, I watch as the corners of her lips twist slowly into the beginnings of a smile. She nods her head. “I love you too,” she whispers back, her voice quivering.

That’s it.

I saved us.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the ring that I picked up this morning when I told her I had clubhouse business to attend to. It’s nothing super fancy, not the biggest diamond in the world. But it’s hers.

“Marry me, Tammy.”

I hear her breath catch in her throat as her eyes widen. “Saxon…”

“No more running.” I smile, letting the last of my walls down. This is my forever girl. “No more doubting. Just me and you. Forever.”

She stares back at me, her jaw practically agape. It’s like she’s stunned. Frozen. But then, something inside her shifts, and a spark ignites that blazes all across her face.

“Yes.”

Joy rushes through me, crashing into me like a wave. I tug her out of her seat and into my arms, kissing her hard as the rain pours down on us, sealing the promise of my love and mycommitment to her. She wraps her arms around my neck, and I lift her up, pressing my tongue into her mouth and devouring her mouth until we’re both absolutely soaked.

Love. This is love.

The two of us are meant to be together.

Tammy is mine. And nothing is going to change that.

EPILOGUE

SAXON

Five years later…

Warm morning sunspills golden light through the kitchen windows, bathing the hardwood floors in a serenity that I never thought I could have in my life. A life I never even knew I wanted until I met Tammy. My love. My wife.

Now it’s the only life I could ever need.

Tammy walks barefoot through the kitchen, her hair tied up in a messy knot with little wisps framing her gorgeous face. One of my old T-shirts hangs off one shoulder, revealing her soft, porcelain skin. My eyes move to our wedding ring, sealing the engagement ring that has sat on her finger since I proposed in the pouring rain. I smile as she uses one hand to fend off the little gremlin terrorizing our house, our wonderful three-year-old son, Ryder.

“More waffle! More waffle!” he yelps, doing his best to climb her leg like a puppy. He reaches for the plate of scrambled eggs, nearly knocking it from the counter. Somehow, she manages to save it at the last second. “Ryder, sweetie, you’ve already hadthree, and that was one too many.”

“I had four,” he snickers, his cheeks covered in syrup. I try not to laugh, to encourage him, but I can’t help it. He is definitely my son. All stubborn and confident, doing his best to rule this house like a tiny little king.

At the other end of the kitchen, our daughter, Lily, laughs as she crashes her tiny toy motorcycle into the wall, making a loud explosion sound as she laughs. “Vroom, vroom! Bang! Crash!”

Tammy sighs. “Saxon, are you going to let your daughter put another hole in our drywall?”

I shrug playfully, taking a sip of my coffee. “She gets it from you, baby.”

Tammy narrows her eyes, shooting me a semi-playful but also scolding glance. We bought this house six months after I proposed and moved in immediately. A gorgeous old farmhouse on the outskirts of town. One hell of an upgrade from either of the tiny apartments we were renting before.

Tammy turns back to her plate as Ryder continues to leap on her like a wild animal. I’ll get up in a second and stop Lily from damaging our home, but for the moment, I have to just sit and watch them all.

Watch the chaos, the noise, and the absolute beauty of the life we’ve built together. Nothing warms my heart more than knowing I’m a husband. A father. A provider.

It’s hard to believe it’s been five years since I put that ring on her finger. Since I gave her my name, my life, my very soul. And every single day when I wake up with her in my bed, gorgeous and angelic, I know I’m the luckiest bastard alive. Sometimes I can barely believe she’s mine.

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