Gypsy King (Tin Gypsy, #1)(104)

I was dumbfounded. I’d asked for a morning to rest and he’d changed the rules. But even in my shock, I hadn’t missed those last two words.

“How about you never call me an old lady again?”

Dash laughed, the rich sound filling the garage. “Want me to get down on a knee? Do this right?”

“No.” I smiled up at him, wiggling my finger so he’d slide the ring into place. I didn’t need the bended knee, the fancy words. “You already nailed it.”

The moment the ring was settled onto my finger, Dash swooped down and captured me in a kiss. His tongue dove inside, demanding and delicious. Standing in a garage, the cement floor cool on my bare feet, we kissed until the heat was too much to stand. Then Dash scooped me up and carried me inside to his bed.

Our bed.

I’d admit, it was better than mine. The sweatshirt was stripped off. My panties dragged down my bare legs. Dash’s jeans quickly disappeared along with the white T-shirt that stretched across his broad chest.

We moved together, my hips cradling his, like lovers who’d been together for years, not weeks. We came together, him bare and pulsing inside me, our hands linked and our mouths fused.

Together.

“I love you,” I whispered into his ear as we clung to one another.

“Love you, baby.” He leaned away, sweeping the hair from my forehead, and grinned. “Damn, but this life is going to be fun. And I promise, I’ll do right by you.”

He’d be the best husband and father I could have ever dreamed possible.

“You will.” I smiled. “And you’re right. This is going to be fun.”





Epilogue





Dash





One year later . . .

“Hey, babe.”

“Hi.” Bryce smiled as she came into the living room, dropping her purse onto the couch before stealing Xander from my arms. She peppered his cheeks and forehead with kisses. “How’s my guy?”

“He’s good.” I laced my hands behind my head. “Just slugged down eight ounces and had a hell of a burp.”

“He’s such a chunk.” She smiled at our son, who was nearly comatose. “I love it.”

Xander Lane Slater was four months old and his legs were fat roll upon fat roll. He had a pretty awesome double chin going too. We took extra care cleaning it during his nightly bath so it didn’t smell like rotten formula.

I stood from my chair, going for her purse and the newspaper tucked inside. “How’d this morning go?”

“Perfect. Papers are out for delivery.” She settled into the chair I’d vacated, rocking back and forth slightly. Xander would be out cold in thirty seconds or less.

Exactly as I’d planned. He was going in his crib and Bryce and I were going to have some fun in the bedroom.

But first, I had to read the paper.

I plopped down on the couch, opening the fold to read the front page. I’d never get sick of seeing my wife’s name in print. It was a sense of pride I hoped would never fade.

Bryce had confessed not long after we’d gotten together that a part of her had felt like a failure when she’d moved to Clifton Forge. She’d had dreams of making it big, being the next nightly news anchor—not exactly the same as running a small-town paper. But then she’d realized that here, writing stories about our town and its people, was where she was meant to be. She reported on the good stuff that happened in Clifton Forge and occasionally the bad.

She’d embraced the birth and wedding announcements, even writing our own. We’d gotten married surrounded by our families and closest friends at dusk, along the bank of the river. Then we’d had a damn fine party at The Betsy—her idea, not mine. Her only request was that they scour the bathrooms first.

We’d gotten married a month after I’d proposed so she hadn’t been showing. That was her only real request. She wanted to hurry things along.

Nick stood for me as best man. And Genevieve stood for Bryce.

I liked to think maybe Mom had a hand in Nick and me finding our wives. That wherever she was, she was looking down on her sons and had sent them the women they needed.

Including my sister.

“Did you take a copy to Genevieve?” I asked as I scanned the article on the front page.

“Yep.”

“How’d she take it?”

“She cried,” Bryce said, dropping her voice. Xander was completely zonked. “But she needed that closure. I think she’s happy with how it turned out.”

In today’s paper, Bryce had written a memorial article for Amina, one she’d had drafted for over a year. Bryce had been ready to publish it weeks after Genevieve had moved to Clifton Forge, but my sister had asked her to delay it countless times.

She hadn’t been ready to read that final farewell. After everything that had happened to us this past year, I didn’t blame her.

I was proud that she’d finally found the courage to let it happen.

“Great piece, babe.” I folded up the paper.

“Thanks. Though you should be congratulating yourself too. You practically read the whole thing while hovering over my shoulder as I wrote it.”

“I don’t hover.”

Bryce rolled her eyes. “And I don’t leave the laundry for you to fold.”