Page 74 of Protected By the Grumpy Single Dad
I laugh softly. “That’s the new-baby smell, Brick.”
He leans closer, studying her face. “She’s perfect. Like, really perfect. Can I hold her again?”
I pass Clara carefully into his arms. He cradles her like she’s made of glass, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t worry, little sis. I’ve got you. Nobody’s messing with you. Ever.”
My throat tightens. I glance toward the yard where Asher is laughing with Riley, a puppy tucked under each arm.
This is it. The life I didn’t even dream of. A husband who loves me fiercely. A son who’s become my heart. A daughter who already has us wrapped around her tiny fingers. Friends, laughter, puppies, chaos, and love.
I lean my head against Brick’s shoulder. “She adores you already, you know.”
He grins, all boyish pride. “Course she does. I’m the best big brother in the world.”
I smile through tears. “You really are.”
***
Later, when the stars blanket the sky and the last guests have trickled away, Riley loads Ms. Rainbow and her puppy crew back into her car. Only one pup remains behind—Brick’s. The moment Riley offered, he looked at his dad and me with such pleading in his eyes that we couldn’t say no.
Brick has already named himScout.
Asher finds me on the swing once the yard is quiet, Clara tucked against my chest, nursing to her little heart’s delight. He kneels in front of me, brushing his hand over her downy hair, then up to cup my cheek.
“Still think it couldn’t get better?” he murmurs.
I shake my head, too full to speak.
Because it has. It absolutely has.
***
The morning after the party is soft and slow, sunlight spilling across the kitchen like an uninvited guest that doesn’t mind the mess. Empty cups and crumpled napkins wait on the counter, quiet witnesses to last night’s laughter. My head still hums with fragments — music, clinking glasses, voices layered warm and easy.
For a moment I let it wash over me: the comfort of friends filling the house, the rare kind of happiness that doesn’t shout but settles deep. Best of all, Mom was there — smiling, talking, stronger than I’d dared hope, and the memory of her at the table makes everything feel lighter.
Now, with the baby finally down for her nap, the silence feels like a sigh after a long, full breath. Clara’s tiny chest rises and falls against the pale yellow rabbit blanket, when headlights sweep across the yard. Scout perks up from his bed by the back door, yipping once like he knows he’s the new guardian now.
Asher’s cruiser pulls in, gravel crunching. The driver’s side door opens and out steps my husband, shaking his head like he’s seen it all—and then some. He’s still in uniform, but his tie’s loosened and his hair is more rumpled than when he left eight hours ago. It’s out of character for him.
Brick bounds out before Asher even makes it up the walk. “What was it this time?” Asher sighs, glancing between us, then pinches the bridge of his nose. “Goats again.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“Goats,” he repeats, dead serious. “Five of them. Loose on Maple Street, knocking over garbage cans and climbing on top of Mrs. O’Hara’s Buick. Whole neighborhood out there filming on their phones instead of helping. Call came in just before noon. Took every deputy we’ve got just to keep traffic moving.”
Brick cackles. “Please tell me you chased them.”
“Chased, tackled, negotiated,” Asher says dryly. “One of them apparently only responds to the namePrincess Buttercup.”
I nearly wake the baby with my laughter. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I wish.” He unclips his badge and sets it on the porch railing like it weighs ten pounds more than it did yesterday. “The whole town will be talking about Sheriff Vaughn versus the Goats of Maple Street for weeks.”
Brick is doubled over now. “Did anyone get video?”
“Unfortunately,” Asher mutters. “Riley already texted me a GIF.”
I press my hand over my mouth, shoulders shaking. “Well, look on the bright side. At least you’re not boring.”
