Page 132 of When the Smoke Clears

He willingly pulls me to straddle his outstretched legs.

“Now we have something to celebrate.”

He kisses me softly. “Every day with you is a day to celebrate.”

“Well, it looks like you’re going to be packing a lot of fancy lunches, because I’m not going anywhere.” I grab his hat and place it on my head.

“Excuse me, Firecracker. But there’s a rule about wearing the hat.”

“Does it have to do with breaking in this land?” I bounce my eyebrows at him.

“It does. Now, would you like to fulfill the requirement before or after dessert?” His eyes flash.

My face falls slightly. “I’m usually dessert.”

He grins. “I have a sweet tooth. I’ll have two.” He reaches into the bottom of the insulated bag and pulls out a tiny cheesecake.

“Cheesecake! I’m feeling spoiled, Cowboy.”

“I intend to spoil you any day I can.”

I take the cheesecake tray and set it aside. “That’s for later.” My fingers thread into his hair and I pull him tightly to me for a hard kiss. “First, we break in the land. Then, cheesecake. Then, I have to give you a really long honey-do list for the house.”

“The house that’s not built?” he says against my lips.

“Yes. It’s like an unwritten rule. You need to have never-ending tasks.”

He snickers. “I already do. But that’s fine. As long as you’re on the list.”

“Every day, sir. Every day.”

Epilogue

Maci

Christmasmorningarrivesinno time. With the NDA completed with Alan, paperwork finalized for Nana’s, and things on track for Strickland Ranch’s expansion, it finally feels like the right time to take a short vacation to visit Sutton’s sister and family in the Dallas–Fort Worth area.

They have a two-story home in the suburbs with a perfect yard, a community playground, and a neighborhood pool. A lovely place to live. But it solidifies that I found my home.

The area here is friendly but loud. You can’t see the stars for miles without interruption. There’s no babbling creek in the backyard or the calming scent of mesquite and cedar. I can’t wait to get home.

The only person I share this with is Sutton on Christmas morning. “Your family is amazing. I adore your sister.”

“They feel the same,” he says quietly, kissing the top of my head.

I snuggle tighter into his bare chest, and his arms tighten around me. Our breathing has finally returned to normal after the best, albeit the quietest, Christmas morning sex I’ve ever had.

“I still can’t wait to be home,” I add.

“I know what you mean.”

A knock comes to the door. “Wakey wakey, sleepy heads.” Sammi’s sweet voice greets us from the other side.

“Be out in a minute,” Sutton calls.

We dress quickly, in matching Christmas pajamas per his mother’s request, and join the others in the living room. Nine-month-old Viviane is already playing with new toys on the plush carpet before the tree. The number of gifts surrounding it is insanity, and I haven’t figured out how they managed to keep her from getting into anything. There’s no gate stopping her. She just avoids all the brightly wrapped gifts of her own volition.

Truth be told, she’s the most beautiful child I’ve ever laid eyes on. Truer, she carries so many of the Strickland genes that I’m almost eager to pop a bun in the oven.

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