Page 59 of Wrangled By the Minotaur
“Be good for Aunt Sage,” I tell him, kissing his forehead.
“Always am!” he declares, already scrambling into the backseat.
As they drive away, Raphael pulls me close. “So, Mrs. Tauros, what should we do with all this quiet?”
I look around at our life—the thriving apiaries, the honey processing facility humming with activity, the combined properties of my grandmother’s apiaries and his estate. Six yearsago, I thought I was trading three months of my life to save my grandmother’s legacy. Instead, I found everything I never knew I was looking for.
“I can think of a few things,” I say, standing on my toes to brush my lips against his. “Starting with reminding my husband exactly why he wanted that alone time.”
His answering growl is pure contentment as he sweeps me up in his arms, carrying me toward our house—our home—where our story began with desperate circumstances and grew into something that was so much more.
The End
