Sugar Daddy (Travis Family #1)(109)

He turns me to face him, his eyes searching. It occurs to me that no one in my life has ever concerned himself so thoroughly with my happiness. "What are you thinking?" he asks.

I know Gage hates it when I cry—he is completely undone by the sight of tears—so I blink hard against the sting. "I'm thinking how thankful I am for everything," I say, "even the bad stuff. Every sleepless night, every second of being lonely, every time the car broke

down, every wad of gum on my shoe, every late bill and losing lottery ticket and bruise and broken dish and piece of burnt toast."

His voice is soft. "Why, darlin'?"

"Because it all led me here to you."

Gage makes a low sound and kisses me, trying to be gentle, but soon he is gripping me closer and murmuring love words, sex words, making his way down the curve of my neck until I remind him breathlessly that Carrington is somewhere nearby.

We fix dinner together, the three of us, and after eating we sit outside and talk. At times we pause to listen to the plaintive song of mourning doves, the occasional whicker of a horse in the barn, the breezes that rustle the oaks and send pecans rattling to the ground. Eventually Carrington goes upstairs to take a bath in a refurbished clawfoot tub, and she goes to sleep in a room with pale blue walls. She asks drowsily if we can paint clouds on the ceiling, and I say yes, of course we can.

Gage and I sleep in the master bedroom downstairs. We make love in a king-sized poster bed, beneath hand-stitched quilts. Sensitive to my mood, Gage takes it easy and slow in the way that never fails to drive me crazy, drawing out every sensation until my heartbeat is hammering in my throat. He is strong and hard and deliberate, every gentle movement an assertion of something beyond words, something deeper and sweeter than mere passion. I go rigid in his arms, muffling a cry against his shoulder while he coaxes long, delicious shudders from my body. Then it's my turn to hold him. I put my arms and legs around him,

wrapping him tightly in myself, and he gasps out my name as he surges and quickens.

We both wake up at daybreak as the wintering snow geese honk and flap across the fields on their way to breakfast. I lie snuggled against Gage's chest, listening to the mockingbirds serenading us from the oak tree by the window. They are relentless.

"Where's the gun?" I hear Gage mutter.

I hide my grin against his chest. "Easy, cowboy. It's my ranch. Those birds can sing all they want to."

Just for that, Gage replies, he's going to make me go with him on an early morning ride to check out my property.

That causes the smile to fade. There's something I've wanted to tell him, but I haven't been sure how or when to do it. I am quiet, playing nervously with the hair on his chest. "Gage.. .1 don't think I'm up for riding today."

He lifts up on one elbow and looks down at me with a frown. "Why not? You feeling okay?"

"No—I mean yes—I feel fine." I take an uneven breath. "But I have to ask the doctor if it's all right before I do anything that strenuous."

"Doctor?" Gage rises over me, taking my shoulders in his hands. "What doctor? Why the hell would you..." His voice fades as it dawns on him. "My God. Liberty, sweetheart,

are you..." He immediately moderates his grip, as if he's afraid of crushing me. "You're sure?" I nod, and he gives a delighted laugh. "I can't believe it." A flush of color has made his eyes startlingly light by contrast. "Actually, I can. It was New Year's Eve, wasn't it?"

"Your fault," I remind him, and his grin widens.

"Yes, I'll take full credit for that one. My sweet girl. Let me see you."

I am immediately subjected to an inspection, his hands sweeping over my body. Gage kisses my stomach a dozen times, then levers upward to pull me into his arms again. His mouth descends to mine repeatedly. "My God, I love you. How do you feel? Do you have morning sickness? Do you need crackers? Pickles? Dr Pepper?"

I shake my head and try to talk to him in between kisses. "I love you...Gage...love you..." The words catch sweetly between our lips, and I finally understand why so many Texans refer to kisses as "sugar-bites."

"I'm going to take such good care of you." Gage lays his head gently on my chest, his ear pressed to the rhythm of my heart. "You. Carrington, and the baby. My little family. A miracle."

"Sort of an ordinary' miracle." I point out. "I mean, women have babies every day."

"Not my woman. Not my baby." His head lifts. The look in his eyes takes my breath away. "What can I do for you?" he whispers.

"Just say a simple 'thank you/" I tell him. "and have sex with me."

And he does.

I know without a doubt this man loves me for exactly who I am. No conditions, no limits. That's a miracle too. In fact, every day is filled with ordinary miracles. You don't have to look far to find them.

The End