Page 72 of Protected By the Grumpy Single Dad
“Oh, guys, can we get out of here already? People are staring,” Brick mutters behind us, breaking the spell. We laugh, and the three of us head out together, his grumbling footsteps trailing ours.
Outside, the sun blazes hot across my face as we cross the lot. “So, Deputy Vaughn—”
He arches a brow.
“Fine.Sheriff Vaughn,” I correct with mock severity. “How are we celebrating your commendation?”
He strokes his chin like he’s pondering a weighty matter. “Maybe a little diner on Brime Street. Starts with an “S”, I think?”
I elbow him. “You think you’re hilarious.”
“Hilarious and handsome. Tough combo to beat.”
We climb into the car, teasing back and forth as the road unfurls before us, the wind pulling through my hair. Brick stays suspiciously quiet in the backseat, chewing on a secret I can practically see pressing against his lips.
And then we pull into the diner lot, and it all clicks. Rose petals on the pavement. Lights glowing oddly warm through the windows. My heart stutters.
“Shall we?” Asher asks, holding the door.
Inside, the world blooms into color. More rose petals are scattered across the floor. Strings of lights draped along the walls. And at the center, a glowing sign: WILL YOU MARRY ME?
I spin toward him, and he’s already on one knee, uniform pressed, cap at his side. The velvet box in his hand glints as he flips it open, revealing a ring that takes my breath.
Brick’s grin could light the whole room.
“Oh, my heavens,” I whisper, covering my mouth as tears sting my eyes.
Asher’s voice is steady but threaded with emotion. “After my first wife passed, I didn’t think I’d ever find love again. They say you only meet your soulmate once. I never dreamed I’d be lucky enough to have two. But here we are. Our beginning is one of my favorite stories—and one we’ll tell our kids someday. That is… if you’ll marry me.”
His eyes shine. “Jasmine Wallace, will you marry me?”
There’s never been a question. “Yes,” I breathe, the word bursting out on a laugh-sob.
Brick claps, practically bouncing, as Asher slips the ring onto my finger and rises to kiss me, long and sure. Brick wedges himself between us in a hug, and somehow, it’s perfect.
As I close my eyes, I realize I was wrong earlier in the car. Itcanget better. And it just did.
Epilogue
One Year Later
There’s something wildly unfair about dresses meant for “special occasions.” They’re beautiful, ethereal, stitched with beads and satin and dreams. And yet—clearly designed by someone who has never met a postpartum woman.
I tug at the bodice and glare at my reflection. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”
Brick leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirk firmly in place. Thirteen now, he’s all limbs and sarcasm. “Pretty sure it’s not the dress mocking you, Jazz. It’s your face.”
“Traitor.” I stick my tongue out at him.
He shrugs, pleased with himself. “Still prettier than Dad, though.”
That earns him a laugh. “Good save.”
The truth is, I’m glowing. My hair is pinned with flowers Riley insisted on weaving herself. My cheeks flush because the man waiting for me outside has a way of doing that without eventrying. And okay—maybe the dress doesn’t fit exactly the way it should, but who cares?
Because here I am. Married. Mother. Still madly in love with Sheriff Asher Vaughn.
And today, our yard is filled with friends, family, nearly the entire sheriff team, and one very opinionated dog.
