Chestnut Springs

Seven Years Later

"We're gonna go fast, right Daddy?

"So fast, Baby." Rhett nods and looks up at our little girl like she hung the moon.

"We're gonna win, right?"

A knowing smile my touches my husband's lips as he looks down at the leather reins in his hands. "Hell yeah, baby girl. We're gonna win it all."

I can't help but shake my head as I cup the back of the small bald head pressed against my chest. Orion is fast asleep in his carrier, clearly not at all interested in his sister's very first rodeo.

Lead line barrel racing is about as riveting as it sounds. But we're all lined up at the gate, waiting for Stella's turn.

Rhett is going to run his fine ass around a huge arena, begging an old ranch horse to maybe jog around a few barrels.

And Stella is going to kick her tiny little four-year- old legs and flap her arms around like she's some sort of rodeo queen.

The girl terrifies me. She all her dad. Dark hair, amber eyes, devil-may-care persona.

I'm already dreading the teenage years. Hopefully she'll keep looking at her dad like he walks on water because I already know she's going to scare the shit out of me.

"Y'alright, Princess?" Rhett calls at me with a sly wink from the opposite side of the exact same horse I rode across a field in a white dress to save his ass seven years ago.

The way things come full circle has me grinning at him. "Never better."

I sway without even thinking about it, the newborn tucked in tight against my chest.

"My girl and I are going to kick some ass today."

Rhett reaches up and gives Stella a high five. "Heck yeah we are, daddy."

Her smile is big, but her eyes are all focus. She's watching other kids get led around and it's all adorably clumsy. But judging from the way she's looking at "the competition" you'd swear she was at the Canadian Finals Rodeo.

"We're gonna come first place." She nods decisively, knuckles turning white as she grips the reins hard.

Rhett laughs into his fist and then pops around behind her back to mouth what looks an awful lot like, "Everyone gets the same ribbon."

I just laugh now, pressing a soft kiss onto Orion's bald head. Our sweet little boy. So wanted and so loved.

"He looks like you, you know?" Harvey comes to stand beside me. He was off helping somewhere as one of the founders of the new Chestnut Spring Rodeo.

"Only seems fair," I reply, and he chuckles. We can't even go out without people commenting on how much Stella looks like Rhett. "I grew them. I birthed them. I almost feel like I was owed a child who looks more like me."

Harvey's big hand comes down and he traces a thumb over the baby's brow. "The lot of you were written in the stars as far as I'm concerned. You and my son. These babies." He shakes his head. Baby-gazing at his newest grandchild. "Fate."

It's from my opposite side that I hear a scoff.

"Fate." Kip shakes his head. "Fate is not my name. Everyone can thank me for my genius idea of sending these two on the road together."

"Dad." I roll my eyes. "Shut up."

He shoves a sugary mini donut into his mouth and chases it with a cold beer from a plastic cup. "It's true. I knew you two would hit it off."

"You're full of shit, Hamilton!" Rhett calls from the other side of the horse. Stella nods seriously like she instantly agrees with her dad.

Adorable.

"It's true." Kip wobbles his head. "Well sort of."

Harvey snorts and I just arch an eyebrow at my dad. My dad who is exponentially happier since he finally kicked Marina to the curb.

It was the birth of Stella that did it. He told me he couldn't fathom subjecting his grand babies to her. There was also a very tearful apology for subjecting me to her for so long - something I didn't even realize how badly I needed to hear.

"What do you mean sort of?" I ask what everyone else is wondering, since all eyes are on Kip.

He shrugs. "I mean, I knew you'd bust his balls. And his balls needed busting. And... " He peeks over at me from behind his sunglasses a little sheepishly. 

Rhett guffaws. "That's a promising look."

My dad just shrugs again, popping another mini donut into his mouth. "You know," he says around a mouthful of dough. "I just thought it would be kind of funny because you spent so much time staring at that magazine ad of him."

Rhett and Harvey are howling and I'm just standing here, agape, staring at my father. "You thought it would be funny?"

"Yeah, I mean, how many people get stuck on the road with their teenage crush? And let's be honest, that teenage crush was some next level shit. I was basically doing you a favor."

"Did you just say next level shit? You're too old to say that."

"Did she ever kiss it?" Rhett hollers over.

Kip points back at him and I feel heat creeping up my cheeks. "I caught her once!"

"Fuck my life," I mutter, burrowing my face against Orion's fuzzy head.

Rhett hoots like he's at a comedy show or something. Asshole.

"Did she write my name on her notepads? I asked you that once, Princess. And you just ignored me. I think that was right before you begged me to kiss you."

"That kiss was your idea!" My hands fly out in a defensive gesture.

Harvey is laughing, and he reminds me of Beau when he gets the giggles.

But it's my dad's reply that really gets me. "No," - he wipes at his mouth-"not her notebooks. Usually right on her arm like a tattoo."

"You're dead to me, Kip." I glare at my father dramatically before shaking my head on a laugh and looking over at my husband. His hair still wild, his shoulders still broad, his eyes still glowing.

So full of love and laughter, and whatever other cheesy shit people put up on their walls and call farm-house chic.

"We getting tattoos, Princess?" He winks at me, his grin pure flirtation. Not giving a flying fuck that both our dads are standing right here to see it.

He's loved me out loud for seven years now and I don't ever want him to stop.

Princess started out as a nickname, but Rhett Eaton makes me feel like I really am one every goddamn day. I love him with every ounce of my being. I swear I feel it more acutely all the time. Like the most delicious ache.

"Sure. Let's do it."

"I'm doing it too, then," Stella announces with an upturned chin.

Rhett just laughs and runs a broad palm over her tiny back. Only four years old and up on a full-sized horse. Totally fearless.

"Stella Eaton!" The steward calls her name and we all crowd the fence to watch her round.

I smile so damn hard that my cheeks hurt. Stella is full on eye of the tiger. She's going to be a hell of rider one day if she keeps it up.

And Rhett? Well, he still wears the hell out of a pair of Wranglers.

When they cross the finish line to the cheers of our family he finds me along the fence line.

And he winks.

Then he mouths I love you.

And God. Don't I know it.

One Year Later

"She's going to think I'm insane."

My little brother, Rhett, just nods his head with a maniacal grin on his face. "Hell yes, she is. She's going to love it."

Summer snorts from across the room. "Oh yeah. This is gonna be a story she tells her kids one day."

I scowl and quirk a brow at them both while Rhett adjusts the cape of my Halloween costume. "This is stupid."

"It's not stupid," Summer scolds me with absolutely no venom in her voice. "Willa loves Halloween. This is fun. Wait until you see her costume."

I just grunt. "Can't be any worse than what you two clowns are being."

"Bahhh," Rhett chuckles from behind me, where his tall frame is filling out a sheep costume. "No one I'd rather be a sheep for." He pops around my shoulder and winks at his fiancée who is dressed up as Little Bo Peep.

She giggles like a love-struck teenager and I can't help but roll my eyes. These two are so gone for each other.

Almost as gone as I am for Willa. This past year, with her around - and now with Emma added to the mix - has been quite possibly the best year of my life. If I'm being honest, even scowling at Rhett and Summer takes effort where it used to come so naturally. Hurricane Willa has changed so much without even trying. Just by being her.

And Emma? I might be more gone for that little girl than I am for her mom.

"Dad!" Luke comes stomping down the hallway and flings my bedroom door open like privacy is an entirely foreign concept. "Mom says to hurry up and stop powdering your ass."

"Lucas Eaton." All I need to do is drop my voice and slant him a serious glance for his eyes to go all wide. I swear to god, Willa has been the best influence on him, but her inability to curb her trucker mouth has been noted.

He's dressed like... actually I'm not sure. Something with a bunch of blood on his face? I don't know. He's definitely hit some sort of gory, morbid phase now that he's seven. Willa seems to think it's funny, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't missing the days he  wanted to be a puppy for Halloween though. He's growing up too damn fast.

"Sorry." He gives Rhett a sheepish look, before looking me up and down skeptically. "Are you that hamburger guy from McDonalds?"

"The Hamburglar ?! " Summer cackles from the chair in the corner, amusement tracing every line of her face.

I just turn and scowl at my brother. "I told you this costume sucked."

"No. It doesn't. She's gonna love it."

Luke smiles fondly now. "I overheard mom say you could not dress up at all and she'd think you look like a snack. What does that even mean?"

"I see you haven't outgrown your eavesdropping phase yet." Rhett cuffs Luke playfully at the back of his head and the kid at least has the sense to look a little chagrined.

"He's... Zorro." Rhett provides, looking me over approvingly. Which is terrifying. It hits me that if Rhett and Summer think this is a great idea - it probably isn't.

"I don't know who that is, but cool. Let's go." He waves a hand over his shoulder and takes off out of the room while the three of us follow out into the open kitchen and living space of the rancher.

In the twenty minutes it took Rhett and Summer to talk me into this costume, the family Halloween party has started and is in full swing.

"There you are!" Willa says it sweetly enough but I can tell by the way her eyes flash that I've annoyed her by taking so long. But really I'm only looking at her eyes for a second, because then my gaze is raking down over her body.

Hungrily.

Willa has always talked about the different costumes she's sported for Halloween as a bartender and it's always made me a little green with jealousy. Hot cop, not nurse, hot... fuck, I don't know. She could roll out of bed and sport a paper bag and I'd think she was the sexiest woman alive.

But with her it's more, it's deeper. She completes me, my family - my heart - in a way I never knew was possible.

She's wearing a white apron, over a frilly dress, with a floppy chef's hat on her head and heels on her feet that define her calves and ankles in an entirely distracting way. Long copper hair lays like a silk scarf over her shoulders, and our baby girl is dressed as a lobster and propped on her hip.

Emma's fingers are tangled in one side of that hair - quite possibly the only other person in the world I'm willing to let run their fingers through it.

"Dude." My brother leans in beside me and whispers. "You just gonna stand here and eye-fuck her with everyone over? I heard that's your thing but-"

"Shut up, Rhett." I bump my elbow into his ribs and smile at his sharp intake of air. Jackass.

And then I'm walking across the room. Toward the sexiest fucking chef I've ever seen, and the sweetest little lobster in the world.

The minute I get to them Emma's chubby little hands drop Willa's hair and reach out for me like she hasn't seen me in weeks.

I melt. I am a puddle of mushy words and chest snuggles for this baby girl, much to the amusement of everyone who knows me.

And I don't a give a shit at all.

Willa snorts. "See? I told you that you should have been the one who did the matching costume with her. I birth her, I feed her with my body, and she treats me like I'm the help. She's the biggest daddy's girl in the world."

I wrap my hands around Emma's soft warm little lobster body and nuzzle my nose against the top of her head. Breathing in that baby smell, because I'm well aware that it doesn't last. These days are fleeting.

Then I peek up at Willa and give her a knowing look. "No. I think that's you."

She just rolls her eyes at me. "Thank you for finally showing up to our own party." Her arms cross and her tits swell over them. My eyes drop for a moment. After all, I'm only human. "Are you a sexy chef, baby?"

Her nose tips up and she looks away haughtily. "No. I'm a better chef than you."

My chest rumbles. "That's your Halloween costume? A Better Chef Than Cade?"

Her lips twitch before she gives in a turns her grin on me. "Luke still thinks so. And I know it pisses you off, so yes." Then she waves a hand over me. "What the hell are you supposed to be? A pirate?"

We both glance down over my outfit. Black boots. Black pants. Black shirt. Black cape. Black mask. There's even a hat that I refused to wear and a play sword strapped in at my side.

I chuckle. "You're going to have to keep guessing."

I get another eye roll and then she struts away, giving me the best damn view of her long, toned legs.

She says that Emma treats her like the help, but I know that my girls are attached at the hip. I know that Willa holds her all night long. I know she wakes up to to feed her and whispers sweet nothings to her in our dark room. I know she plays guitar to her every morning while she sips her coffee no matter how tired she is.

I also know that she needs some time tonight to not have a tiny human attached her hip, even if she wouldn't admit it. She needs to just be Willa sometimes too - fun and carefree and a little bit wild. I know she needs that because I needed it too. I just didn't recognize in until she blew into my life and pointed it out to me.

The part is more fun than I thought it would be. We spend the night mingling. Summer and Sloane have taken over making sure there is a good rotation of snack food laid out. Rhett and Beau made a huge cooler of punch. And I'm not an idiot so I don't touch that shit - I stick to my beer and tote my lobster around chatting with people.

Every now and the Willa will roll up to me, grab my ass, and whisper a costume guess. But she hasn't gotten it yet. Zorro. The Hamburglar. An asshole cowboy. A breeder (I'm pretty sure Harvey told her to guess that.)

I can tell by the way they're devolving that she's getting frustrated. So once Emma is asleep in Rhett's arms I grab Willa by the hand and drag her out of the house.

Partly because I want her alone and partly because I am feeling very done with having this many people over in our house.

"Where are we going?" Her fingers pulse in my hands and I just smile back over my shoulder at her.

"That was a creepy smile. Are you being a serial killer for Halloween?"

I laugh. "Rude, Willa. I finally start smiling again and you mock me for it."

We're through the gate into the hay field before she can get another word out. "Wanna make out in the hay bales again, Eaton?"

"Red. I'm going to do a lot more than make out with you. And this time I'm not going to blow in my pants. I'm going to blow in you."

She screeches to a halt. "You came in your pants ?! "

I just nod. Biting at the insides of my cheeks.

"You never told me that!"

"It's not something I really run around advertising."

A flash of her teeth digging in to her bottom lip catches my eye in the moonlight. "It was pretty hot. I really can't blame you."

My gaze dances over the outline of her in the dark. "It was everything, Red."

I feel her shiver and pull her close, wrapping my arm around her and dropping a kiss onto the top of her head.

"You got a sex at parties kink to go with that breeding kink?" Is what she asks to cut the tension. Such a her thing to say.

And yeah. That joke hasn't gone anywhere in the past year. "I think I do," I whisper against her hair feeling the silky strands against my lips.

And then I drag her around the back of a bale and push her up against it, revelling in the surprised huff of breath that leaps from her lips.

There aren't many bales left. It's not the maze it was that day we first kissed, but it still reminds me of her.

"Reach into my pockets, Red," I murmur as I step in close. Lining myself up with her.

"Is this some weird ploy to get me to touch your dick?" She laughs as she says it but her hands are already travelling down my body, sliding into my front pockets.

She freezes when her fingers slip in. My shoulders shake as I laugh silently.

"The fuck is this, Cade?" She yanks her hand out and holds up... a pair of underwear.

The pair of underwear to be exact.

"Part of my costume," I deadpan.

Her brows furrow as she shakes her head slightly before dropping her gaze again and continuing to rifle through my pockets. Her laughter starts of slow and disbelieving until she is full on cackling as she pulls all different types of underwear from my pockets. I think Summer managed to give me five for each one.

"You're... you're... "She gasps for air.

"The Panty Bandit," I supply with a full grin.

She drops the underwear in her hands to the ground, grips my shirt, and throws her head back to laugh. She looks incredible-stunning, heart-stopping, and carefree. She smells like the fruit punch and feels so damn warm.

She looks like the woman I want to spend the rest of my days with. "Keep digging, baby."

"You just want me to touch your boner, don't you?"

I shrug a shoulder. "I mean, yeah. Not going to start lying to you now. But keep going."

A flash of uncertainty pops up on her face as she tentatively reaches back in. Her deft fingers that I've watched strum over guitar strings so many times slide down deeper, grazing my rock hard cock as they go. Right into the pointed corner of the pocket seam.

And this time when she freezes, she gasps. "What is that?"

My heart pounds erratically in my chest as her movements go jerky and her breathing goes ragged. Willa's hand trembles as she lifts the ring up between us.

"Oh my god," is all she says as she stares down at the ring. It's hard to make out in the light. But Summer helped me pick it out. Yellow gold, a wide flat band that comes up around an emerald cut, well, emerald.

"I know it's not a classic engagement ring. I wanted it to be nothing like the ring I'd bought before."

She swallows and nods.

"But it suits the hell out of you. And if you don't like it I'll get you something else. Anything you want, really."

"Shut up. It's perfect." Her voice sounds watery now and I can't help but smile. My girl wears her emotions on her sleeve and has been through them all in a matter of about ten minutes tonight.

"I know you didn't want to get married right away when you got pregnant. That you didn't want it to feel like a shot gun wedding. And I respect that. But I... "

I choose that moment to sink down on one knee in front of her. Watching her trembling hand come up to cover her mouth. My voice cracks, "I don't think I can wait another damn minute to call you my wife."

A full body sob lurches from behind her palm, but I keep going. "You. You are... You've changed my life. You've changed me. I know you think we're better together, but I think I'm just plain better with you. Willa Grant, will you marry me?"

She's nodding before the question is even out, small drops of water spilling over her long lashes. "Yes, yes, yes, yes. Please."

A deep sense of pride sees through me as I come to stand, sliding my palms around the back of her skull and looking her in the eye. "Yes?"

"Fuck, yes," she clarifies with a watery laugh, and then we both tilt our heads down and watch as I slide the ring onto her slender finger. And there's something deeply humbling about it, knowing that with all the options open to her in the world, this is what she chooses.

I'm what she choses.

"Thank you," I husk, focusing on her eyes and then on her lips.

I kiss her, slow and deep, and then whisper against her lips. "Thank you."

I trail my lips up over her cheeks, kissing away the tears. "Thank you."

I push her up higher against the bale of hay and feel her arms wrap around my neck, the cool metal of the ring against the base of my skull as her fingers comb through my hair.

I look her right in the eye. "Thank you."

And she just smiles, watery but full. So full of love it seizes the breath in my lungs. "I love you so damn much," she murmurs before kissing me back.

Her legs wrap around my waist then and I see that spark of playfulness ignite in her eyes. "Now can we pick up where we left off last time you had me up against a hay bale?"

"I love you too, Red," is all I say, before I do exactly as she's asked.

And wouldn't you know it, my girl isn't wearing any panties.

Six years later...

"He's still crying," I whisper into Sloane's ear, hearing Sutton weeping softly behind us while Summer wraps an arms around him and tries to soothe him. 

Sloane laughs.

"Harsh. Just cruel, really."

"Jas, our son cries over everything. He's so sensitive. And he's three now. His emotions are all over the map. I can't keep up."

"Only over you. You've got every man in our little family wrapped around your finger."

"Right where you all belong." She winks at me and we start our climb up the steep path.

I press my hand to the small of her back and take a quick peek at her ass in her bikini bottoms before I groan. "Goddammit, Sunny. I can't wait to rip this bikini off you later."

"You're outta control." With a laugh she peeks over her shoulder. "Just like our daughter."

With a few more long steps we hit the top of the river bank, where I turn to look back down at where everyone has set up shop on this almost unbearably hot summer day. Every single member of the Eaton clan is here, and I say clan, because we've all become much more than just a family. Blood. Marriage. Friendship.

If you're one of us. None of that matters. We all belong together in some way.

And sure enough, Skylar, at only five years old is doing her best to get free of her Uncle Beau's grip. "Sky, chill out or I'm going to take you for a rabies shot," he grumbles.

"I wanna jump!" Her little face smushes up, hands curling into tiny angry fists.

"Hey Gervaises!" Beau shouts up at us. "This one is feral. Was it raised by wolves?"

"Nah!" Harvey pipes up, a can of Buddyz Best in his sun-worn hand. "That's just the Eaton in her! Come on, Sky. Let's go skip rocks. You too, Sutton. Your mom is going to be fine."

He takes both children and walks them toward a more shallow part of the river. Sutton's shoulders are still rising and falling as he whimpers, and Skylar shoots me a dirty look over her shoulder that makes me feel like a traitor for leaving her out.

"Don't even think about it." Sloane threads her fingers between mine and starts dragging me toward the narrow pathway that leads to the bridge.

"Think about what?"

"Bringing your partner in crime. She's five. I know she's fearless, but she can't jump off the bridge no matter how convinced she is that she can."

"I feel bad. Look at her. She's miffed at me."

Sloane laughs again. "Oh, yeah. She's furious. You're gonna pay for this later."

A smile spreads over my face as I take a moment to reflect on everything I have today. Everything I thought I'd never have.

Happiness.

A family.

Sloane.

I squeeze her hand and she grins back at me. "Come on. I'm gonna chicken out if you stand here too long staring at me like that."

We pad down the path quietly until the old railway bridge comes into focus. It's all burnished metal and dark wood. It smells like creosote and that almost static scent that comes on a hot sunny day.

Hand in hand we step onto the bridge and Sloane peeks up at me from under her lashes. The face I know so well, the face I've spent years memorizing.

Loving.

"You okay, Sunny?"

She nods, lips rolling together as she glances back down at everyone on the shore below us. "Last time I was up here Violet and I were just kids. We thought we were being real funny. Spying on you, Cade, Rhett, and Beau."

"Is this the time we were skinny dipping?"

Her cheeks flare, even now. "Yes."

"And what happened?"

"Violet covered her eyes and made a quiet gagging noise while running off the bridge."

"But what did you do?" I step closer, wrapping my arms around my wife and staring down at her.

"Oh, I stared."

"Gross. Those are your cousins," I tease.

"Jas." Her eyes roll dramatically. "I wasn't staring at them. I was staring at you." Then her arms latch around me and her palms clap down on my ass, fingers digging into each cheek. "And this hockey boy bubble but."

A deep chuckle rumbles in my chest as I tug her against me. Head on my heart as my lips press to the top of her head. "You've made me the happiest man in the world, Sunny."

"Good, Jasper. You deserve it," she whispers back.

"So please don't die jumping off this bridge."

"Jasper!" She laughs as she pushes me away, the moment instantly lighter. "No wonder poor Sutton is beside himself. Did you say something like that around him?"

Then she steps over to the railing and glances back at me, blonde hair loose on her shoulders. Eyes bright like the sky, and a glacier lake, and a Robin's egg as she stretches a hand back to me. "Will you hold my hand though?"

"Of course, Sunny." I step up and we both duck through the railing. Then latch onto each other, like we have for the better part of our lives.

"Still can't believe you've managed to avoid doing this until your thirties."

She shakes her head, looking a little breathless as we stare down the deep water below. "I can't believe my fucking three year old dared me to do this."

I bark out a laugh. "I can't believe you took a three-year-old's dare."

"Yeah. Well, I'd do anything for them." She turns and looks at me now. "And you."

My hand pulses on hers. "You sure you're ready?"

"Yeah. I trust you." She's practically panting with the adrenaline rush now. The anticipation.

"On my count. When I say jump, you jump? Got it?"

Her laugh is borderline maniacal. "Is that a dirty joke, Gervais?"

I ignore her jab and grin back at my wife. "Three. Two. One." I pause. And we wait with bated breath, eyes glued to each other like nothing and no one else exists in this moment. "I love you, Sunny. Jump!"

We leap then, free fall. My stomach is in my throat. Her squeals piercing my ears. Hand clamped tight on mine.

And fuck, I'd fall with her over and over again.

Within moments we're plunged into the deep, cold river water. We momentarily lose each others hands. But then I feel it as I reach out. Her fingertips brushing against mine.

We find each other again. Like we always do.

And just like that day all those years ago in a cold glacier lake...

I cop a feel of Sloane Gervais where no one else can see.

"Fuck!" It's the sound of Winter whispering curses that wakes me. I don't open my eyes right away.

Instead, I listen to her quietly berate herself as she moves around the room and picking up the pieces of her discarded clothing.

She might not think I'm such a nice guy if she could see me smiling right now. Her attitude amuses me though. I'm down so bad for this girl and I barely even know her.

"What were you thinking?" she hisses, drawing my attention.

I peek out of one eye and see her drop down onto her knees reaching under the small table to pull her discarded bra towards her.

A nicer guy would shut his eyes and let her melt down in peace. But I'm not that nice because I open the second eye. Admiring the slight indent down the column of her spine as she arches her back. The way her toes curl under into the plush carpet beneath her as she stretches forward. And the way her simple nude panties slide up higher on her round ass cheeks.

The same ass I left handprints on last night. I remember the way she squirmed and pushed closer, practically begging for more.

More. That's what I want. Right now.

I groan and feel myself thicken. Again.

Her head snaps in my direction and she's up like a shot. Pointing at me like she's ready to scold a child. "Go back to sleep."

"I can't. I just woke up to the sight of you on your knees with your ass in the air."

"I'm just getting my bra. Stop making this into something it's not." She waves the bra at me, perky breasts bouncing and drawing my eyes in the dim morning light. "And stop ogling me, Silva."

"How? Have you seen yourself? Get back on your knees and I'll turn that frown upside down for you."

Crystal blue eyes take a tour around her eye sockets. The tequila softened her up last night, but I have to confess I like this version of her even better.

She's being honest right now. She's being herself. Not giving me some fake shiny veneer to impress me. Instead I find myself wanting to get to know her better. The real her.

"It's just a body, Theo. Look at enough of them every day and they stop being quite so impressive."

She looks everywhere but at me when she says that last part, fastening her bra shamelessly. It's just makes me harder. She's not doing the thing where she hides behind a sheet. Or squeals and runs into the bathroom like I didn't explore every damn inch of her last night.

Nah, I'm pretty well acquainted with Winter Hamilton's body now. And I want it again.

It's her confidence.

It's her giving no fucks about me watching her.

But this whole it's just a body thing can't stand. So I flip my covers back and twist my legs out of bed. Immensely satisfied by the way her lips pop open, those bright blue irises flashing straight to my cock.

I'm a lot of things. But oblivious to the way I look is not one of them. In fact, there are days that it feels like the only thing I'm truly good at.

I'm not as good at riding bulls as my dad was, not as good as Rhett either. And without bull riding, I'm not really sure what I'd do.

I fill my days with working out to pass the time and stay fit for the sport, and I know it shows. So I walk towards a slack-jawed Winter Hamilton with a cocky grin on my face.

Her chest rises and falls heavily, but she doesn't move away from me. Instead, she tips her head up and meets my eyes.

The look of want on her face is reflected on mine. I know it is. 

But I signed a coaster contract that said one night. And the morning light starting to creep in through the open blinds is proof that the night is long gone.

I lick my lips and try to memorize her face. Because I have no doubt that Doctor Winter Hamilton will go out of her way to avoid me after this.

But last night was too good to ever forget. 

I trail the pad of my finger over the ridge of her hip bone, feeling her skin pebble beneath my touch.

"Trust me, Winter. I'm going to be thinking about this body for years to come."

She inhales sharply and then moves away, quickly shrugging into the off-white cashmere sweater dress she wore last night. It's with boots in her hand, bare feet on the hotel room carpet, that she takes one glance back over her shoulder.

The look she hits me with is full of longing, confusion, and insecurity. I want to drag her back to bed and wash that all away. Watch her melt beneath my hands, squirm beneath my body.

Listen to her moan my name while her eyes go all glassy. I don't think I'd ever get sick of getting tangled in the sheets with Winter.

But she says, "I bet that's what you tell all the girls," with a sad smile and then quietly leaves my room with her chin tucked down. Images of her and I together burning themselves into my mind as she walk away.

It's the least satisfying goodbye. It leaves me feeling briefly empty, and a little bit desperate. I want to follow her, grab her, toss her back into my bed kiss away every insecurity.

Her words hurt worse than they should. They also light a fire in my gut.

Because there will be no other girls. I've got Winter Hamilton in my sights.

And I'm gunning for her.

______________________________

"My boy."

I smile when I hear my mom's voice on the other end of the line. I'm sprawled across the bed where fucked Winter Hamilton in every position I have enemy repertoire. The pillow still smells like her shampoo.

I want her back here. I want to mark it down. Put it in some sort of record book that I have a new goal in my life.

Win a WBRF championship. Make Dr. Winter Hamilton into Dr. Winter Silva.

"Hi mom."

"What's up?" I can hear dishes in the background like she's unloading the washer. Loretta has lived alone since my dad's death, and she gets on just fine, though I hate the thought of her being alone.

"I met her."

"Who?" She doesn't sound all that interested to be honest. She's probably sick of her adult son calling just to chat all the time.

So I throw her off with, "The woman I'm going to marry one day."

It works. The sound of cutlery clanking stops abruptly and the line goes quiet.

"Is that so?"

"Yep." I pop the p. It makes me sound more sure about it.

"Well, Theo. I'm happy for you. A little sad you bought the ring without me, but I'll get over it."

"There's no ring. Yet."

"Hmm." She sounds thoughtful, Loretta chooses her words carefully. But she also loves to drag me when the opportunity presents itself. "Is this a Meredith and Derek situation? A Post-it note?"

"No."

"My boy. I love the way you love. But I've gotta ask, does this girl even knows she's marrying you yet?"

I bite at the inside of my cheek, refusing to give her the satisfaction of laughing at her sarcastic dig. "Not yet."

"Does she even know you exist? Stalking is illegal you know."

"Mom. Jesus. Yes, she knows I exist. Though I think she might be trying to forget."

The clatter of plates filters through the phone. "Sounds like you made quite the impression."

"I'm not watching Grey's Anatomy with you on Thursday."

She just snorts. "Yes you are. You never miss it."

I smile. It's true. We sit on the phone and talk the whole way through the episode. I'd never stand my mom up.

"Maybe she's not interested because she found out what a massive mama's boy you are."

"Nah. She's been hurt though. She's so down on herself. Fuck." I sigh. "It's... it's really hard to watch. She doesn't have a you in her life. She needs time. But she's so strong, mom. She's going to be okay. I just know she will be."

That takes the wind out of Loretta's sails. She's quiet for a few beats, I can hear her swallow heavily through the receiver. "So what are you going to do?"

She asks the question, but my mom knows me well enough to understand that once I set my mind to something I don't give up easy.

And plus, my plan is really very simple.

"Wait for her."

Because I know that time spent waiting for Winter Hamilton to catch up with me will be time well spent.

A very real wedding ...

Beau

Today is the day.

The day I make Bailey an Eaton. On paper. In front of all our closest friends and family.

My bare feet pad against the dry grass as I retrace the steps from the back of my house to the top of the riverbank. The same steps I took the night I caught her hiding in the river here. The pull toward that spot stronger than ever.

Like the universe tugged us from opposite sides of the land and forced us together right at the divide.

When I hit the edge of the embankment tonight, I'm shocked into stillness. Bailey took over the planning and I think every single member of my family pitched in to make this day come together. I told Bailey that if she was happy, I was happy. She gave me a mischievous smile and went on to tell me absolutely nothing.

I had no idea what to expect.

But this?

I didn't expect this.

The river looks like it's decorated for some sort of fairy party. Twilight is descending around the ranch and every tree along the winding water in this cross section is frosted with twinkling white lights. They drape from the trees across some sort of frame to create what looks like a glowing hallway. An aisle for her to walk down, short wooden benches that line either side and end at a pergola decorated with white roses, some sort of gauzy material, and even more warm white lights.

I swallow hard and thump a fist over my chest right as I hear footsteps approaching from behind me. From the corner of my eye, I see Jasper come to stand beside me right as his hand lands on my shoulder with a gentle squeeze. Rhett files in on the other side. Then Cade and Theo too.

"They did good, huh?" Jasper says, looking out over the wedding venue with a gentle smile on his stubbled face.

"It's perfect." My voice cracks uncharacteristically and I blink rapidly before casting a glance around my wedding party. "You dickheads are looking sharp. Except you, Cade. A tuxedo with no tie? A tuxedo with cowboy boots?"

"Take what you can get, Beau." His voice comes out steely, but the expression on his face gives away his amusement.

"Let's go, boys!" Summer calls from down on the silty shore of the river. She's wearing a pale green dress. It's wispy and airy and matches the natural surroundings perfectly. All the girls are wearing them. Willa, Sloane, Winter. The entire visual of the night is truly spectacular.

It's so perfectly us.

I smile and salute Summer before going back into motion, heading toward the path that leads me down to the water.

My dad is grinning at me from the pergola and I have a moment of deep concern over having allowed him to get his license to marry us. It will either be great or a shit show. Harvey Eaton is a loose fucking cannon at the best of times.

The guys and I file over as the girls head back up the embankment to wait for Bailey.

Butterflies erupt in my stomach, but good ones. Excited ones. Bailey and I have lived together for the past several years. She finished her undergraduate degree early, I love my job with the fire department. We often spend free weekends at the ranch.

Life is pretty damn perfect.

But being able to call her Mrs. Eaton is going to be the cherry on top.

People file down the riverbank as the harpist begins to play. In my pocket, I roll her simple wedding band between the pads of my fingers. Cordelia is here - I see her toss a wink at Harvey. Guys from the firehall, staff from The Railspur. My little sister Violet is sitting at the front, already crying, while her husband Cole massages her shoulders. "Vi, stop it. You're gonna smudge your makeup." I whisper shout at her with a grin.

"I already know I'm going to be reapplying," she says as another fat tear slips down her cheek. It doesn't make it far before Cole swipes it away, leans close to her ear, and murmurs something that makes her cheeks go pink and her eyes drop to her lap. She elbows him, cheek twitching, as she scolds, "Inappropriate."

I smile even harder. Seeing everyone so happy is the best.

Within minutes, a hush falls over the space and the music changes.

Then I see her and every ounce of air leaves my lungs. Flowers in her hair, stars in her eyes, flowing white fabric draped over her body so delicately.

Every single day I think Bailey is more beautiful than the last. But today takes the metaphorical cake. I suck in a shuddering breath as I watch her descend.

A watery smile stretches my lips when I see Gary lean down and whisper something in her ear. Now two years sober, he has become a mainstay in our lives. The father Bailey never got to have. And he looks every inch the proud papa walking her down the aisle as they turn to make their way beneath the blanket of lights.

"Fuck," I mutter, trying to catch my breath.

I hear Rhett snort from beside me, followed by a whispered, "Man down."

My dad lands a soft punch on his shoulder. Snickering ensues. You can put a bunch of wild boys in tuxedos, but they're still gonna start shit.

But I don't even care. For Bailey, I am down. I fall over and over again for this woman.

She glows. Her smile is so wide that I can't help but match it as she floats toward me. My cheeks ache with the sheer pressure of it. I've never smiled so hard in my life.

One they're close enough to the front Gary steps ahead, hand outstretched to shake mine. "Congratulations kid." He leans in, slapping my shoulder with his opposite hand. "You know I love you like a son, but I like her better. So if you fuck this up, I'll be hashtag team Bailey again."

"Appreciate that, Gary. But I'll never fuck this up. And I'm already the captain of Team Bailey, so nice try."

"Good fucking answer." He laughs as he draws back, looks me over, and then opts to wrap me in a rough hug.

Fuck. I feel like I could cry. Gary has watched our relationship from the very beginning. Having him here? Having him healthy? It's beyond special.

Movement at the top of the bank draws my gaze. And gathered there are people I recognize from the town. People who've changed their tune about Bailey. I don't know them, but I recognize them. The shoe store girl, the hair salon lady, patrons from the bar.

Bailey must sense I'm looking somewhere else and she follows my line of sight to the field above. When she sees them, she smiles and offers everyone a small wave.

They wave back and I swallow the lump in my throat.

Then Gary walks my girl up to me. Presses her hand into mine. And I break all tradition, tugging her to me and kissing her quickly. "You look perfect, sugar tits."

She smiles against my lips then leans back, running her hands up the lapels of my jacket. "You don't look so bad either, soldier. Ready to do this thing? Be together together?"

I take her hands, step back into position, and look her over. Gauzy dress, big fucking diamond on her finger, dark tresses that match the now dark sky above. "Nah, sugar. I think we've always been together together. This is just the paperwork."

She nods briskly, tears filling her wide eyes.

I'm sure the look on her face is reflected in my own.

Her and I have always been a reflection of each other in a way. The same, but opposite. The perfect match.

"We're gathered here today to celebrate the union of Beau and Bailey." Harvey's deep timbre bounces off the water and rocks, amplified by the surroundings.

Then he chuckles.

"Now I know what you're thinking. You're all like, 'That sounds like two Golden Retrievers are getting hitched, Harvey!' And I'll tell you that was my first thought too... "

Fucking Harvey.

I shake my head as I stare back at my dad, and he winks at me mischievously. Like the shit disturber he is.

But it's Bailey's laughter that draws my attention back to her.

And goddamn, everything else fades away when I look at her.

She's all I see.

All I need.

The ultimate adventure.

And within a few minutes...

My wife.

1

Rhett

“Why are you dressed like a robber?” Summer’s full lips curve upwards as she surveys me up and down, eyes twinkling with mirth. “We aren’t going to commit a crime.”

“If Cade catches me sneaking around his property in the dark, the humiliation of being caught by someone so old will be worse than being caught committing a crime.”

I tip my chin at her as she stands near the front door of our house. Skintight black leggings hugging every curve. Matching puffy black coat skimming just above her round ass. Silky chocolate hair spilling out from under her⁠—

“Rhett, stop eye fucking me,” she huffs, cocking one hip out to the side. “We have work to do.”

My cheek twitches and I run my tongue along my bottom lip, really making a show of it to fire her up a bit. I get a signature eye roll, but don’t miss the amused twist of her lips that she can’t hide.

“Princess, I’m not sure why you’re giving me shit for my balaclava mask when you’re dressed like a winterized Catwoman.”

She looks down at herself. Even her Mukluks are black. Then she turns, swipes a red Santa hat from the hanger by the front door and swaps the wool toque off her head for it. “There. Better?”

I take my time, letting my gaze lick over her slowly—partially to annoy her and partially to enjoy myself. “Not especially. Now I’m just having conflicting feelings about Mrs. Claus.”

She groans to cover her laugh as she turns away and grabs the door handle. “Let’s go, Santa.”

I tug on my thermal Blundstone boots. “Keep strutting around in those leggings and I’ll definitely be playing Santa when we’re done getting into trouble.”

This time she doesn’t respond, just marches out into the lightly falling snow toward the blue vintage truck she had repainted for me. She hops in, slams the door, and gestures through the window for me to hurry the fuck up as a warm yellow glow shines down on her from the overhead light.

I lock up our house and grin as I head toward my beautiful wife, waiting in our truck. We still call it The Rust Bucket, although it’s now anything but.

I stop and soak it in for a moment.

Watching the broad flakes swirl around makes me feel like I’m living in a happy little snow globe. I don’t even need Christmas because I already have everything I could want right inside this small crystal sphere.

As the light dulls inside the truck, I spring into action, trudging through the few inches of snow that have accumulated since I plowed the driveway earlier. When I hop in on the driver’s side, Summer slides across the bench seat to snuggle against me.

“You got everything in the back?” She rubs her hands together and huffs a breath onto them to warm up.

“Yep,” I reply, firing up the engine. A grin stretches my lips. Because this is going to be fun.

Christmas music filters through the classic-design radio. This thing may have been refurbished, but we kept some original pieces. Summer sings along to the end of the song, and I get stuck watching her. She's fucking adorable. Rosy cheeks, wide eyes, eager to pull the best prank of all time with me.

My partner in crime.

Sometimes I think about if I hadn't punched that reporter, if I hadn't said what I said about hating milk, I may never have met her. And what a crying shame that would have been.

“You ready to go, doll?” I ask her, and she nods with excitement. I can see the anticipation in her eyes as we pull down the driveway.

We head toward Cade's house, lost in the Christmas tune filtering out of the radio. “Silver Bells.” One of my favorites.

The stars shine brightly above us, and the snow sparkles around us. It's cozy. I feel happy. I feel complete.

As we draw nearer to Cade's home, I ask, “Princess, are you happy?”

She tilts her head. "Happy?"

“Yeah, happy.”

Her hand reaches down to squeeze my leg. “Of course I'm happy.”

“How happy?”

She watches me carefully when she responds. “Well, as happy as I've ever been. I'm excited about doing this. Excited to see all the kids tomorrow morning. I think the only way I would be happier is if we were staying up all night to do this for kids of our own.”

Her answer makes me grin. “Yeah?”

She smiles and the apples of her cheeks go round and pink. “Yeah.”

“Maybe we can work on making one after this. I'm sure you have a thing for Santa now. And after watching me play Santa all night, you won't be able to keep your hands off of me.”

She rolls her eyes at me as we continue on. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a total pervert?”

“Yeah. You. All the time. And yet you climb aboard and ride my dick quite⁠—”

She slaps me across the chest to cut me off, and we both dissolve into a fit of laughter that takes us all the way down the road.

As we approach Cade's house, I can see they’ve drawn the curtains and only a dim light shines from inside. The red farmhouse where he and his wife, Willa, and their son and daughter, Luke and Emma, live is shut down tight. Ready for the magic of Christmas morning.

Summer and I glance at each other, exchanging grins at the same time. The excitement of Christmas feels so alive at this moment. Moreso than it has for me in years. Decades, maybe.

“You ready?” she asks.

I give her a firm nod and a focused stare. “Ready.”

And with that, we creep out of the truck and close the doors gently, careful not to wake anybody. I circle around to the back and lift the cover to get at all the equipment I stocked away earlier in the day.

We’ve been preparing for this night.

“What should we do first?” I ask, eyeing up the trunk full of paraphernalia.

“Presents?” she whispers. “That way, if we get caught, we can still duck and run.”

I nod, seeing the logic in her thinking. “Then the sled?”

“Yep.”

Her go ahead is all I need. I reach for the 2x4s in the back with a firm nod as she goes for the bag of presents. We carry them around to the side of the house, cautious where we leave our footprints.

Summer sneaks onto the front porch and drops the burlap bag smack dab in the middle. After opening the top so the presents peek out, she places the envelope on the colorful wrapping paper.

Once she’s back with me, we continue around the side of the house. Open fields are all that go behind Cade's place, so it makes perfect sense that area would be a landing spot for a sleigh.

We each take a 2x4 and drop them onto the snow, then exchange nods like we’re officially ready to begin. We drag them backward, mindful to step only where the wood tracks will cover. Once we get far enough, we stop.

I swear Summer reads my mind and I read hers. We both know this is the spot to stop without exchanging a single word, so we step away and retreat to the truck to put the boards back.

Then we pull out the rest of what we need to set the scene.

Did I spend all afternoon tearing up pine cones and shredding old hay? Did I crawl around in my dad’s basement to find baby shoes and something I could use to mimic a deer hoof? Yes, yes, I did.

Since Summer gave her staff Christmas Eve off, she worked at the gym all day, and I prepared this masterpiece.

We go back and drop everything where it needs to be. And when we finally finish and inspect our handiwork, I nod with a sense of satisfaction.

“What do you think, princess?”

Her smile is wide. “I think it's perfect.”

“Okay, let's get the hell out of here. You promised me a Mrs. Claus roleplay and I’m ready.”

She rolls her eyes and turns her back on me to walk away. But not before I scoop her up in my arms. Her giggles filter through the crisp air as I tickle her and squeeze her against me, kissing her neck and rubbing my beard against her in the dark night.

All concern with being stealthy evaporates the minute I get a whiff of her cherry body lotion. And the only thing stopping us from carrying on right then and there is the sound of the grumpiest voice known to man from around the opposite side of the house.

"Hey, who's out there?" my brother calls from his back porch.

I hate to admit it, but as much as I want this to be a surprise for the kids, I want it to be a surprise for Cade too. When tragedy upended our childhood, he took on a lot of responsibility. More than someone his age should have had to. He missed out on the magic of so many of these nights, so many of these holidays, by being the responsible one in the wake of our mother's death.

So I don't push my luck.

I press my finger to my lips, signaling to Summer that we should be as quiet as mice, and then we creep toward my truck.

As soon as we’re settled in the cab, I’m about to turn the keys to start the engine when her hand darts out to stop me. Her fingers wrap around my wrist, and she shakes her head rapidly.

"What?" I ask.

"Don't start it right now," she warns me. "If you start it now, he'll hear the engine. He's obviously outside."

"Well, what are we supposed to do? Sit here in the cold and wait for him to go to sleep? I don't understand why he's awake. He wakes up at the asscrack of dawn every single day to work the ranch and he's old. Shouldn't he be tired by now?”

Summer worries her lip with her teeth. “I could text Willa.”

“No, don't text Willa. This is a good surprise for them too.”

She glances around the darkened cab of my truck, like she’s weighing our options carefully, and lets out a woeful sigh. With a mischievous wink, she says, “I guess we’ll have to do what we always did in the old Rust Bucket.”

Then she turns and attacks me, hiking a leg over me and straddling my lap in her tight fucking leggings. Her plush lips drop onto mine before I even have a chance to protest. Not that I would. We're positioned totally out of view from the house, just on the lower side of her rise. So, unless Cade walks out through the field, he’ll never see the truck. He'll notice the tire tracks tomorrow, but we've kept it well out of sight for now.

Her tongue swipes mine and I tangle my fingers in her hair, pushing up higher until the Santa hat pops right off of her head.

Her thighs tighten around my legs and the fervor between us burns brighter. Our teeth clash. My fingers tug as they wrap around her hair, forcing her head back. I drag my teeth, my tongue, my lips over the column of her throat, nipping at her collarbone. All while her hands grapple with the zipper of my jacket. She pulls it down, her hands grasping at the metal snaps on my button-down shirt. The sound of snaps ripping open fills the otherwise quiet truck cab.

She reaches lower, hands roaming, frantically searching, gripping.

I should be cold, but I feel no chill.

Before I know it, my hands are on her ass, her hands are on my dick, and I'm lifting her, lining us up.

Any worries about being caught blow away on the night breeze. And just like the first day Summer walked into my life, everything around us ceases to exist.

I don't even care about Christmas or the presents I might get.

This right here is all I could ever want.

______________________________

2

Cade

“I swear I heard a loud thunk and laughter coming from the front of the house.”

Willa runs a toe up my leg. “Santa's got the giggles. He's jolly.”

“No seriously. What was that noise?” I grumble, only to have Willa roll her eyes at me from the other side of the hot tub.

“Are you fucking serious right now? I'm naked in the hot tub and you're worried about a little noise?”

I study her as steam wafts up around us and snow falls beside it. The globes of her breasts just crest the water, the bubbles creating a mask for the rest of her luscious body.

She is temptation personified. Always has been. Always will be.

She looks like that right now and is wondering why I'm worried about who might be out there?

“Yes, Willa,” I reply. “You know who gets to see you looking like this in my hot tub?”

She quirks an eyebrow at me. “Who, Daddy? Tell me.”

“So help me, Willa. You gotta stop calling me that. It's fucking creepy. “

She throws her head back and laughs at me. Not with me. Definitely at me.

Water soaks the tips of her hair, and her collarbones glisten under the deck lights. Pure amusement paints her face.

Fuck. She's beautiful. I can't take my eyes off her.

Haven't been able to since the first time she dropped her panties at my feet in the town coffee shop.

“Okay, fine,” she carries on. “What were you saying again? I forgot.”

“Willa, it's been a few seconds. How have you forgotten?”

“Because when you scowl at me, and your eyebrows get all low and your lip does that little unimpressed curl thing... it kills all my brain cells. I swear you scowl at me and all I want to do is make you even more mad, so you keep doing it. It’s so hot.”

I groan and scrub a wet hand over my mouth. The smell of chlorine mingles with the pine scent from the trees lining the backyard.

“Are you telling me it makes you horny when I get mad at you?”

A slow grin curves her lips. Her green eyes work their way down and back up my bare chest. She pushes her tongue into her cheek and stares me down with so much fucking confidence.

Like she's hungry and I'm her midnight snack.

“Yeah, Cade. That's exactly what I'm telling you.”

“Willa, how am I ever supposed to get you to take me seriously?”

Her laugh tinkles like bells. “Uh, I can tell when you're serious. Right now, you're not serious.”

“Well, I'm pretty serious,” I say as I stand in the hot water. It drips down my naked body. I promised her a midnight skinny dip on Christmas Eve once the kids were asleep, because she told me it's what she wanted for Christmas. But I'm not following through with more than that if one of those Jansen fuckers is lurking around the corner trying to catch a view of my wife.

Nobody gets a look at my girl.

Her eyes travel the same path they did before, but this time lower. My cock is already hard. Just the anticipation. Just being in the hot tub with her, sharing a glass of whiskey like we did during that game of truth or dare when we first met... it takes me back.

It gets me excited.

It reminds me of how far we've come.

“Cade, sit down.”

“Willa, I don't take orders from you.”

She quirks a brow at me. She doesn’t correct me, but when push comes to shove, I do indeed take orders from Willa. We both know if she said jump, I'd grumble about how high and then do it while scowling at her.

“Willa, seriously, I'm gonna go around the side and check things out.”

She gives me a slight headshake and scoffs, like she thinks I'm being ridiculous. Then she props her arms on the hot tub, which does nothing but lift her far enough out of the water so I can see her pert nipples. Pink, round, hard, and pierced. Studded with silver on either side of the stiff peaks.

I lick my lips and take a deep swallow.

“So you're just gonna walk around the side of the house in two feet of snow barefoot with a hard-on? That won’t scare anybody, Cade.”

“What's that supposed to mean, Red? You don't think I'm scary?”

“No, I think if a man sees you running around naked in the snow, he's going to laugh at you. And I think if a woman sees you running around with that weapon out, she's going to drop to her knees and beg you to fuck her face like I did once.”

All I manage is a scowl. I drop my eyebrows and try to appear as serious as possible. But she just threw back the one line I’ve told her I'll never forget.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, ignoring her as she pushes herself up out of the water to sit on the edge, daintily crossing her legs.

I lick my lips, looking toward where the sound came from, and then back toward my wife. God, this is torture.

“Willa, what are you doing?”

“Oh nothing, just cooling down.” She glances at where I'm planning to go and lifts a hand, walking two fingers over the air. "Why don't you run along and check for a big bad intruder, Daddy?"

"Willa, when I get back, I'm gonna bend you over the edge of this hot tub and make you pay for running that sassy mouth.”

She waves me off. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hurry up. All bark. No bite. Let's go.”

With a frustrated growl, I go to check on things even though I haven't heard a single noise in a while. I step out of the hot tub, and as I’m making my way across the brick patio, I ignore the swish of water coming from her direction.

Knowing Willa, she's probably bent herself over the hot tub and is on full display in an attempt to make me lose my concentration. And I know if I turn around, she'll succeed.

This is our relationship.

Push and pull, win and lose.

But with Willa, every competition ends in a win, even if she irritates me in the process.

So what I'm not expecting is a few wet, slapping footsteps followed by a hard shove. When my bare skin hits the snow, it's bitterly cold. I suck in a breath, my body heavy on the ground. It chafes, like ice crystals piercing my skin, but the sound of melodic laughter and the heat of Willa's body against mine soothes everything.

She crawls on top of me, her legs on either side of my hips, and presses me flat on my back into the frigid snow, while perfect flakes of it fall around us.

I gasp for air, and all she does is grin down at me. Like the wild, totally insane person she is.

"Red, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Keeping you right where I want you," she says, giving me a saucy wink. “Tying you down, tackling you. I said I wanted this night for us for Christmas, and I meant it.”

I groan and roll my eyes at her. But she ignores me and presses her lips against mine, the heat of her pussy grinding against my length.

All the discomfort of the painfully cold snow at my back melts away as Willa writhes in my arms.

I’m not sure how long we stay there—grinding, kissing, groping, making out like two teenagers in the snow—before I grumble, "Fuck it." I lift her with one arm, pushing to stand. Her legs wrap around my waist as I carry her back to the hot tub, where I toss her in unceremoniously.

The sounds of her shocked squeals make me harder.

And then I climb in, turn her away from me, and wrap her long, red hair around my fist, yanking her head back firmly, but carefully.

“Bend over. Spread your legs and give me what's mine,” I say, before nipping her ear and pressing her against the side of the hot tub.

With my hand still in her hair, I push her chest down, using my free hand to lift her hips. Her hands struggle for a grip on the edge, but it doesn't stop her from arching her back and offering me her ass.

Within seconds, I thrust inside her. Dark starry night above us. Body marks in the snow beside us. Hand gripping her ass, giving her exactly what she wanted for Christmas.

***

I wake up with bright light streaming in through the bedroom windows. Clearly Willa and I were too wrapped up in each other to close the blinds last night.

I'm naked, she's naked, and Luke is at the door yelling, "Dad! Mom, put some clothes on!"

I peek one eye open at him. For a kid who swore Santa wasn't real and showed borderline negative levels of excitement about Christmas, he is positively vibrating before my eyes.

"Luke," I grumble, pulling a sheet up Willa's exposed back. “Dude, don't you know how to knock?”

He scoffs. “Whatever, we're all family here.”

It's a sweet sentiment, but I’m having a hard time reconciling a kid who wasn't sure about Santa's existence with a kid who doesn't care about seeing his parents naked. Seems like those two things don't go hand in hand. Like he’s on the precipice of being grown up, but isn’t quite yet.

At any rate, he steps closer into the bedroom, not caring at all about my warning. “Dad, Mom, you're never gonna believe it.”

Now Willa turns over, sleepy-eyed and messy-haired, with little wrinkles on her face from where her cheek pressed against her pillow. “Lukey, my boy, good morning and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Mom.” He rushes forward now, giving her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. I don’t get one. Instead, he smiles and bounces on the spot, giving in to his boyish roots.

He bounds onto the bed, peering into her eyes like I'm the dick and she's the one he's excited to see. “Mom, you'll never guess what happened. Santa came.”

Willa's eyes go bright, and she pushes to sitting beside me. Our backs rest against the pillows and the headboard as we observe Luke, who's propped himself just beside us. Then, like he can’t stand not being closer, he gets on all fours and crawls in right between us.

“Santa came. I can't believe Santa actually came!”

Willa and I stare at each other. After one of Luke's friends at school planted the seed of doubt about Santa, we've had long talks about how to confess to our lies. How to keep it under wraps for Emma. What the best plan of attack would be. We also talked about how it seemed sad that he'd find out quite this early.

Time went by so fast. I could have sworn I had another year or two before he'd figure out some of these things. Just because I grew up fast doesn't mean I want him to.

But based on the way he can barely sit still right now, I'm guessing the magic is still alive and well, even if I'm not sure how it got resuscitated.

His fists twist the sheets, and he shifts his gaze between us. “There are sleigh tracks across the yard! And reindeer hoof prints. I saw pieces of pine cone and random hay spread over the grass, like Santa landed and stopped here for a break with his reindeer. There are tiny footprints going up the front steps. And unless Emma was out walking around in the middle of the night, it couldn't be her. So it has to be elves. And there's a burlap sack full of presents at the front door. And there's even a note, but I didn't open it because I don't want to do it without Emma.”

He’s out of breath by the time he gets all the words out.

And I have to confess, I blink a few times. I have no idea what my son is talking about. I glance over at Willa and based on the confusion on her face, she has no idea what he's talking about either.

"Well, Luke, I have no idea about any of this," I say. "I mean, I told you Santa would come. I just... you just never know.”

“You guys, you've got to come see,” he carries on. “We've got to go wake Emma up. It's light out already. She can have a nap later. Come on, come on, come on!”

With that, he scrambles off the bed and runs down the hallway. His feet thump as he heads toward his sister’s room. The room Willa used when she first moved in with us.

"Emmy! Emmy! Emmy, wake up! It's Christmas!"

Willa and I have barely yawned and stretched and gotten our bearings when we hear Emma's voice from the next room.

"Lulu? Christmas?" She sounds so sweet, so young, so full of wonder.

“Yes, Emmy! Come on, let's go! Give me... hop up!”

I don't need to be in the room to see what they're doing right now. Emma is standing at the edge of her crib, arms outstretched. And when Luke bends low enough, she'll wrap them around his neck, and he'll carefully drag her over the edge of her crib.

Sure enough, he’s back at our door with red cheeks and his tiny sister hefted in his arms.

"Christmas, Christmas!" Emma says, clapping her hands merrily.

Willa looks at me, eyes sparkling just like our daughter’s. Then she claps her hands and imitates Emma, "Coffee, coffee!"

I smile and plant a kiss on her lips. She's ridiculous and I wouldn't have it any other way. Within seconds, we're up and wrapped in our robes, heading to the kitchen while Luke runs for the front door.

"Luke, hang on. Let me press the button on the coffee before we go crazy.”

“Hurry, Dad!” is his only response. He doesn't care about coffee or waiting. He's too excited, and it warms my cold as fuck heart to see it. Based on the adoring look gracing Willa's features, she loves to see it too.

When we finally approach the wide-open front door, I see Luke was not lying. On the porch is a burlap sack, overflowing with presents.

Beside the bag, about a dozen tiny footprints. And what resembles wispy broom strokes to cover possible other footprints. But I don’t point that part out to Luke. That's not the lens he's seeing this through.

When I glance out further, sure enough, there appear to be sleigh tracks, reindeer snacks, and even more footprints. Why hasn’t Christmas been like this before?

I scrub at my beard. The truth is, I haven't had the time or the energy to make it quite like this. This all out. I've always felt just slightly behind the eight ball. Then Willa came into our lives and then Emma and it just snowballed from there.

It strikes me I've missed out on doing some of these things with him.

“Can we open them? Can we open them, Dad?” Luke pleads.

I peek at Willa and shrug.

She shrugs back.

I think if she had some hand in this, I'd be able to tell. She'd have a smirk on her face, a twinkle in her eye, a faux innocent head tilt, but she seems just as confused as I am.

“Sure, let's open it,” I say. “Grab the letter first.”

Luke doesn't even bother putting shoes on. He takes two firm steps across the snowy porch, grabs the envelope, opens it, and starts reading out loud.

***

Dearest Luke and Emma,

Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!

My elves have been watching, peeking in through your windows, checking on you, and reporting back to me. I know you have been such a good little boy and little girl this year.

As such, I took a good number of things off your list and wrapped them up here for you. Possibly even a few things that you didn't think of.

My elves will continue checking on you until Christmas next year. Hopefully there will be more gifts in your future! I recommend putting the most expensive things you can think of on your list. Your dad seems mean, but deep down, I know he would love to buy them for you.

Good work this year!

Love,

Santa Claus.

PS: I've included a special gift, one for your mom and one for your dad. The elves wrapped your dad's in the paper featuring the cowboy emoji. And they wrapped your mom's in the paper featuring the exploding brain emoji. I hope they love their gifts too.

And remember... when you're a grumpy, naughty boy, what do you get?

Luke grins from ear to ear with pure magic dancing in his eyes. He doesn't even ask before he bounds back out and lifts the two top gifts from the bag.

Sure enough, someone wrapped one in cowboy emoji paper and the other in exploding brain emoji paper.

I don't know for sure, but I have a feeling I know who pulled this off.

Luke hands us our gifts, and Willa opens hers first. She unwraps it with great care, trying not to spoil the paper, probably planning to use it for something else. Inside is a small container of what the label calls “Synthetic Champagne Sparkles!”

“What is it, Mom? What is it?” Luke asks right as Emma goes, "Ooh, pretty!"

Willa shakes the container before holding it up. “I think this is to sprinkle into my favorite mimosas, give them extra sparkle.” She turns and winks at me. “Santa must realize I love a good mimosa.”

Yep, she and I are both thinking the same thing. There’s only one person who has been Willa’s mimosa-drinking partner for her entire adult life, and that’s Summer Hamilton.

And when I peel open my cowboy hat emoji wrapping paper and look down at one round piece of charcoal briquette, I know exactly who would pull this shit on me.

My shit-disturbing baby brother, Rhett.

______________________________

3

Jasper

I wake up warm.

Almost unbearably so. But when I take in the tiny baby sleeping on my chest, I know I would suffer any temperature to maintain this view.

My baby girl, Skylar Gervais, is sprawled on my chest, sleeping like the angel that she's not.

I mean, she's perfect. From the ends of her white-blonde hair to the tip of her tiny button nose, all the way down to her little pink toes.

Her long lashes cast a shadow down over her pudgy cheeks. Luke recently asked me if I had elastics around her wrists and ankles because her arms and legs are so chunky right now.

She may look angelic, but the girl is a hellion. She came into the world kicking and screaming and demanding attention from everyone around her.

With me, she's all trouble. With Sloane, she's all sugar.

I wish I could say she's a daddy's girl, but that would be a lie. She's a mommy's girl, through and through. And I love to see it.

Watching Sloane become a mother has truly been one of the greatest joys of my life.

I turn my head on the pillow to face her. Her features are so similar to Skylar’s. She was definitely the blueprint. Pert nose, long lashes, and icy blonde hair. They even both like to rest their heads against my heart and listen to it beat.

Right now, Sloane has settled for my bicep, her feet tangled with mine under the duvet.

We swore Skylar would sleep in the crib. We swore Skylar would be on a sleep schedule. We swore we would not have a single screen on in the house when she was awake.

And then came the exhaustion from parenting a very lively baby. More often than not, Skylar sleeps here on my chest. Mostly so Sloane gets a break from holding her all the time.

Because Skylar rarely naps, opting to watch every single thing her mom and I do. Alert from start to finish.

So most days, Sloane and I lie on the couch and let Skylar drift off before bed. On my chest while Sloane lies wedged tight between me and the back of the couch watching a show.

Our family time starts and ends with snuggles. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

A turn of my head to where the light creeps in past the blackout blinds shows me it's a bright, crisp, sunny Christmas morning.

It strikes me that this Christmas morning is quite possibly one of my best.

To think I once spent a Christmas by myself in an abandoned car in the field behind Chestnut Springs High School is truly unbelievable. Now I wake up in a custom-built home, next to the only woman I've ever loved, and a perfect baby with ten fingers and ten toes who's just as obsessed with her mom as I am.

I trail a finger over the shell of Skylar's ear, loop it up over the swell of her full cheek, and take it for a little ski down the slope of her nose.

And then, as any self-respecting man does when he’s faced with a baby... I boop her.

I hear a soft laugh from beside me and see Sloane’s big blue eyes staring at me.

“Jasper Gervais, did you just boop our baby?”

“Why yes, Mrs. Gervais, I certainly did. Look at her. Look at that nose. How can you look at her—look at that face—and not boop her?”

Sloane quirks an eyebrow at me. “Okay, so when someone has a perfect face, you are bound by duty to boop them?”

I nod back at my wife solemnly. “Yes. It’s written in the constitution.”

With a smirk on her lips, she reaches forward and boops me on the tip of my nose, followed by a gentle boop on Skylar’s. “Merry Christmas my loves,” she singsongs, all happy and warm and dopey.

I could spend the entire day here wrapped in the two of them.

Except we've got plans.

Sloane and I decided our Christmas would be different this year. She grew up with so much. And I grew up with so little. But now, as an NHL player, I want for nothing.

Which is why this year we’re exchanging gifts that are not things, but experiences.

I’m buzzing with excitement to give her mine.

***

With Sloane and Skylar all bundled, we make our way across the ranch in our SUV, toward the hill behind the main house where Harvey and Cordelia now live. Harvey Eaton is Cade, Beau, Rhett, and Violet’s dad, but he also took me in as a homeless teenager which makes him my dad now too. Violet couldn’t make it back to Chestnut Springs for Christmas, she’s got a family of her own and lives in Ruby Creek now, but us boys keep Harvey company over the holidays.

In a hilarious turn of events, he’s settled down with Sloane’s mom. Personally, I couldn’t be happier for the two of them.

Skylar coos from the backseat, strapped safely in her top-of-the-line rear-facing seat. I did a metric fuck ton of research and drove Sloane up the wall. All that to say, I’m pretty sure if I can keep Skylar rear-facing until she's ten, I will.

"Where are we going?" Sloane asks, confused why I might pull up in front of a snow-covered field with no explanation on Christmas Day. But when we turn the corner around the backside of the house and she sees her closest friend, Winter, and her husband, Theo, she breaks into an instant grin. “Experiences only. This is great."

Theo waves, and Vivi, held tight in Theo's arms, does too. Winter smiles but her hands stay propped on her hips, her lower back arched and her rounded stomach pushed forward. She's due any day now with their second.

Much to Harvey's dismay, they have not found out the sex, which means he’s taken to guessing ridiculous names for either sex.

When we hop out, Theo tosses me a wink as Sloane immediately rushes to Winter.

I unstrap Skylar and carry her over.

“Merry Christmas, you guys,” Sloane says while hugging our friends. “This is such a wonderful surprise.”

Theo turns and gives me a little dip of his head, and I say to Sloane, "Okay, I understand you said no things." Her head whips in my direction, eyes narrowing. “But on the nights you and Winter hang out, Theo and I have been spending time together too. Working on a little side project.”

Sloane glances at Winter. “Do you know what he's talking about?”

Winter shakes her head. “Not a fucking clue.”

Theo waves us over and we all approach his pickup truck. He pulls down the tailgate to reveal some unidentifiable lumps covered by a blue tarp. When Theo tugs the tarp back, we come face to face with two sleds.

Sleds built by Theo and me.

"What are these?" Sloane asks, her eyes widening as she takes in the vintage wooden sleds.

"Toboggans,” I say.

Her wide eyes bounce between the two, taking in the arched backs. “Where did you get them? I've never seen toboggans like this before.”

Theo puffs up a little with pride, but Winter is not reacting the way I thought she might. Her hands have moved from her hips onto her stomach as she watches us take in the sleds.

“You okay, Winter?” I ask.

She nods, sighing deeply as she moves her hands back to rub at her hips. “Yeah, been having Braxton Hicks contractions for over a week now.”

Theo massages her shoulder. “You know what you need, babe? A little tobogganing. Get the blood flowing.”

She shoots him a dirty look. “I don't need to get my blood flowing. This baby will come out when they're good and ready. Stop rushing them and stop rushing me. You've got nothing to worry about. I've done this once before. And I'll do it again. In fact, it was peaceful doing it without you there telling me my blood wasn't flowing or I should put my feet up. Or constantly following me around like I need to be doted on.”

Theo grins wider. “Tink, you do need to be doted on. You can snap at me all you want. It will not keep me from doing it. You know I like it when you snarl at me.” He gives her a gentle elbow and a wink.

"You got a good one, Win,” Sloane says through a broad smile.

She sighs and looks at her husband. “I do.”

Then Sloane picks up where she left off, running a hand over the wood, outfitted with a rope to pull through the snow. "So where did these sleds come from? Where'd you guys get them? Why is one purple and one pink?”

“Well…” I scrub at my beard, feeling a little bashful about the project. “We built them.”

Now the girls look confused.

“You built them?” Sloane asks.

“Yeah, Theo brought woodworking stuff to the garage, and we built and painted them. We made them for Vivi and Skylar. And obviously you and Winter too. They're long enough to fit two people. One adult and one child between their legs.”

I gaze down at my masterpiece, brimming with pride because I made my daughter something I’d never have gotten growing up.

“Are we ready to take them for their maiden voyage?” Theo's practically bouncing on the spot. So excited to try them out.

Nobody objects, so we put our gloves on, drop them onto the fresh snow, and pull them up to the top of the hill.

We spend the next thirty minutes dragging them up and pushing the girls down.

Dragging them up and pushing the girls down.

Over and over again.

Theo and I get one run. One run where we race and try to beat each other down the hill. One run that draws eye rolls and laughter from all the girls.

Aside from that, I soak up the experience. The experience of having made something with my bare hands in the company of a new friend. The experience of watching my wife and my daughter look so damn happy enjoying it. The experience of spending Christmas Day surrounded by people I love.

And it's all fun and games until Sloane waves at us from the bottom of the hill and shouts, "You guys, Winter's water just broke!"

______________________________

4

Theo

I thought I was fully prepared for this.

I thought I was ready.

I thought this was my Super Bowl.

I made Winter go to all sorts of birth classes she wasn’t especially enthused about. All because I wanted to play a part in this pregnancy that I didn't get to play in the first.

I thought I was going to extend my streak as Super Dad straight through the birth of our second child.

But I'm standing at the top of the toboggan hill and my wife is laid out on a sled at the bottom and one shouted, “Fuck,” from her is all it takes for every bit of knowledge and preparation to flee my mind instantly.

I turn my blank expression on Jasper, who's standing beside me, just as useless. Then I turn back to Sloane, now holding Vivi and Skylar. My steps start out slowly, but then I'm running down the hill.

When I reach Winter, her hands grip tightly around the edge of the sled and her posture is straight and tense.

“Do you want me to call an ambulance? Should we get you in the truck? Drive you to the hospital?” I kneel beside her. “Do you want me to rub your shoulders? Do you need to squeeze my hand? Should I pull your coat up and giving you a massage on your lower back? Do you need a drink of water?”

Winter cuts me off with a sharp look. “Theo.” This is her doctor's voice, eerily calm. I've heard it before, but usually when there's a bull rider with a bone sticking out of his skin.

Not when she's looking at me.

“Theo,” she says again. “This is not how we planned for this birth, but I can tell you I am not going to make it to the hospital before this baby comes.”

I shake my head, licking my lips. “That can't be true, Tink. We've talked about this. You've been having those fake contractions. We learned about this at the class. We should just get you to the hospital."

She cuts me off with one hand gripped on my forearm, her eyes boring into mine. "Theo, I need you to listen to me,” she pleads. “This baby is coming now, whether you want it to or—” She's about to say “not” but cuts off into a low wail. Her chin drops to her chest as her eyes clamp shut.

I peek up at Sloane who's nibbling at her lower lip nervously, now only holding Vivi as Jasper takes Skylar from her.

“Okay,” I say. “Okay. So clearly those fake contractions weren't so fake.”

Winter glares at me. “Clearly.”

“Are you... is there a head?” I expect Winter to say no immediately, but she closes her eyes and takes a moment like she's really thinking, taking stock of her body.

"No," she says softly. “But the contractions are... I should be pushing."

"Okay, okay," I say over and over again. As though saying the word enough might make it true, might make everything be okay.

Sensing the tension between us, Vivi fusses in Sloane’s arms. Jasper has Skylar held tight against his chest, and they're both looking at me like I should have a plan right now.

Another contraction hits Winter while she sits on her pink sled that I spent hours working on. “Okay,” I say one last time, feeling my focus replace my shock. I risk my life riding angry bulls for a living, I can do this. “Sloane, please call Kip and my mom. If you don't have their contact information, you should be able to get that from Rhett and Summer. I'm going to pull the sled back to the house. Jasper, can you run ahead and tell Harvey and Cordelia we're coming?”

Then I lean forward and put one gloved hand on Winter's cheek, turning her face to mine. “We got this, Tink. You hear me?”

She gives me a dry look. “I know I've got this, Theo. I've done it once before, but you? I'm not so sure.”

A watery chuckle lurches from my throat. It’s such a her thing to say. “Not the words of encouragement I was after, Tink. But coming from you, that might be as close as I'll get.” I rub her cheek gently and she nuzzles into my hand. I know her, know she can be snappy. But under all Winter’s bravado, there’s something fragile about her.

I’d never let her break.

“We got this, okay?”

Usually she'd say something back to mock me, but she nods her head briskly, her eyes slightly watery, her cheeks slightly flushed.

“It's gonna be okay,” I say, and I'm not sure if it's more for her benefit or for mine. Then I grab the rope attached to the front of the sled and drag my laboring wife up to the main house at Wishing Well Ranch.

It seems fitting we met on a snowy day in the exact driveway I’m tugging her through. We faced off here. I proposed here. So why not have a baby here too?

I can't help but peek over my shoulder and grin at her, even as another contraction hits and she doubles over on the spot.

Jasper has beat us here by a country mile. I watched him run through the snow like the athlete he is, holding his daughter in his arms. He looked more like a football player than an NHL goalie, but I suppose on some level, an athlete is an athlete.

Sloane pulls up in my truck. Vivi is in the back. When she hops out, she says, "I made both phone calls,” just as Cordelia and Harvey appear out the front door, waving us through.

Harvey takes some precarious steps down the front stairs and the two of us help Winter into the house.

“How you doing?” Harvey says. “Are we going to name this one Noel? What about Jesus? It’s a fitting time for you to pop out a baby."

"What's fitting is your use of the word 'pop,' Harvey,” Winter volleys. "I feel exactly like I'm about to pop. Now get me the fuck out of these snow clothes." She tears at them the minute she steps through the front door. Coat. Waistband of her pants. She goes to take off more, but I stop her, looking around.

“Nah, nah, nah, not in front of everybody.”

She gives me a look of disbelief. “The chance of everyone seeing has never stopped us before.” She gives me a blunt expression, like I should fill in the blanks.

Harvey's gaze bounces between us. “Oh boy, are we about to get a bunch of information about the procreation prowl? I always knew you two were breeders.”

Jasper laughs, because of course he does. He's always laughing at Harvey's stupid jokes. Egging him on by giving him validation.

Winter just shakes her head at Harvey. We're all used to the wild shit that tumbles from his lips, so it almost doesn't faze us anymore.

Harvey rolls his eyes and slaps me on the shoulder. “Kid, you act like I've never seen a vagina.”

Every person in the room groans, including Winter, but Harvey doesn't take notice. He just keeps talking. “I’ve spent years working calving season. I've got four kids of my own. You think we made it to the hospital for every single one of those? This is nothing new for me, Theo.”

I stare back at Harvey, trying to keep a straight face. “Harvey, this is new for me. I'd like to be alone with my wife. We’ll call you if I need your help calving. Now, do you guys have a private room?” I ask. “A guest room? A bathtub?”

Winter lets out a hitched breath. “Yeah, a bathtub. And fast.”

Harvey hurries us across the main room, past the Christmas tree, and down the hall to exactly what we asked for. “This room has an ensuite bathroom. It’s actually where Summer lived when she first moved into the house.”

Winter crumples against me as another contraction hits. Her arms wrap around my neck, and I carry her full weight as we head into the room.

“Oh, good,” she mutters under her breath. “The room where my little sister was fucking her shaggy-haired boyfriend is where I get to have my baby.”

Harvey chuckles, gives her shoulder a squeeze, and turns to leave, but not before he adds, “Nah, they were always taking that truck out into the field. Thought they were being subtle or something.”

Jasper barks out a laugh from the living room.

“You know,” Harvey says from the doorway, “if you held out for a few hours, this kid wouldn’t have to share their birthday with Christmas.”

The murderous stare Winter shoots him has me shutting the door on Harvey for his own protection.

The minute the door clicks shut, Winter tears her clothes off, but not in the sexy way I'm used to. It’s rushed and frantic and I do everything I can to help her and soothe her all at once.

She leans on me, and we walk to the bathroom where I run her a bath. She gets in almost instantly while gripping at her back.

I can tell her contractions are getting more intense now. They're lasting longer and longer. In fact, I'm not sure they're letting up at all. She's being tough about it, but the noises coming from her mouth are not noises I've heard before.

I decide now isn’t the time to crack a joke about calving. I’ll save that for tomorrow.

The next ten minutes pass in a daze of murmured support, rubbing touches, deep moans, growling wails, and swishes of water.

"Reach down,” she says. “I can feel their head."

And I can too.

Before this point, I was sure I had a broken hand from her squeezing the hell out of it. But I can feel the wet skin and the dusting of fine baby hair on the top of our child's head.

It’s a moment I’ll never forget.

The minutes pass. Winter pushes. Winter squeezes my hand. The head comes out.

Winter pushes, Winter squeezes my hand, a shoulder comes out.

Then, with one final push, we meet our new baby boy.

“We’ve got a boy, mama,” I say in a voice strangled with emotion.

I pull him out of the water to rest him against his mom’s chest.

"Is he okay? Is he okay?" she asks repeatedly while her head rests back against the edge of the tub.

I count ten fingers, ten toes.

I look at him crying, squealing, head pressed against his mom's chest, and then I look at my wife. “He’s more than okay. He’s perfect. And so are you.”

Then I wipe a tear from my eye and sit on the bathroom floor, rubbing my son's back, stroking my wife's head, falling more in love with her than I already was.

The last time we sat on a bathroom floor together, we bonded over our daughter. Now we’re doing the same with our son.

And I’m thanking the stars above that, this time, I got to be here for every single moment.

______________________________

5

Beau

Bailey is tearing around the kitchen like a madwoman, triple-checking every dish. The countertop looks like a bomb went off, exploding kitchen utensils everywhere, and the stovetop has every burner in use.

The oven is full too.

“Beau,” she calls. “Did you add the cheese on top of the brussels sprouts?"

She's the chef. I'm just the sous-chef. Here for the ride and taking every order from her as she busts her ass to cook the perfect Christmas dinner for the entire family.

“Sugar tits. Of course I put cheese on the brussels sprouts. Nobody likes brussels sprouts unless they're smothered in cheese.

“That's not true. Lots of people love brussels sprouts. I love brussels sprouts.”

I give her a quirked brow to show my disbelief. “Is that why you've covered them in mushroom soup, added bacon bits, and put cheese all over the top?”

“Well, that's just this recipe, but I do like them. Roasted, pan-fried, they’re very versatile.”

I cross my arms and stare at her from across the kitchen. “Bailey, you know what the true test of a good vegetable is?”

She sighs and I watch her lips twitch in amusement. She pretends to be annoyed by me, but she isn't. “I don't know, Beau. What is the test of a truly good vegetable? I suspect you’ll tell me whether or not I want you to.”

I smirk. “Okay, now coming from somebody who doesn't especially like vegetables⁠—”

“Wait a second. What? You don't like vegetables?” She looks genuinely flabbergasted.

“No, not really.”

“Seriously? But you eat them all the time.”

“Yeah, I eat them because they're good for me, not because I actually enjoy them.”

She gapes at me like I’ve told her something horrifying. “But you're a grown man.”

“Yeah, exactly. I eat my vegetables, even though I don't like them, because they're healthy and I'm a grown man.”

All she does is shake her head and let out a beleaguered sigh. “Okay, stop stalling. Tell me what makes a vegetable good by your man-child standards.”

I hold my hands out like I’m trying to soothe a wild animal. “Okay, hear me out. You know a vegetable is good when you can have it just steamed. Nothing else.”

Her face scrunches up. “What?”

“Yeah, like if you can just steam a vegetable, maybe top it with a little butter. No, actually, now that I think of it, butter doesn't count because butter makes everything taste better. Maybe you can put some olive oil on it. A little salt? A little pepper? If that's the only thing you put on top of a vegetable, and it tastes good, then you know it's a good vegetable.”

She snorts good naturedly, peeking inside the oven to check on the brussels sprouts, and the potatoes. And the yams. And the rice pilaf.

Yeah, she may have gone overboard.

“Okay, so what's on your list of good vegetables?”

I hum and tap my chin like I'm thinking it over carefully. “Well, carrots.”

She scoffs. “Carrots are practically a piece of candy.”

“No, carrots are good. Carrots are a vegetable. They're good for your eyesight.”

“Is that a fact?”

I stifle a laugh. “Yeah, I read it somewhere once.”

“I’m impressed you can read, considering you won't eat your vegetables or considering you don't even like vegetables.”

“Cute, Bailey. Really cute.” Then I lift a hand and continue listing them out on one hand. “Okay, so we got carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, squash.”

She points at me. “Lettuce.”

“No, not lettuce. I hate lettuce.”

“What?” She sounds truly alarmed now.

“Bailey, you can't tell me there are people out there who actually enjoy eating lettuce.”

She sniffs and tips her chin up as she proceeds to tidy up the cooking utensils that are scattered fucking everywhere. “I enjoy eating lettuce.”

“You're telling me you really enjoy eating salad?”

“Yes, Beau. I really enjoy eating salad.”

“What kind? Iceberg lettuce, spinach, arugula?”

“I don't know. I like all kinds of lettuce. Lettuce is good for me. I love a salad on a hot day.”

I harrumph and lean my hip against the kitchen counter. “Bailey, you know who likes lettuce?”

She shakes her head when she grumbles, “Who?”

“Rabbits. Rabbits like lettuce.”

She rolls her eyes at me, and bites the head off a gingerbread man cookie. “Well, you just poked a hole in your own argument because rabbits also love carrots.”

Luckily, I'm saved by the ringing of my cellphone on the counter so I don't have to continue debating the merits of vegetables with my fiancée.

I can tell our dumb back and forth has taken the edge off though. She’s always wanted to host a Christmas dinner, with lots and lots of people, so I made sure that would happen for her this year. Every single person is meeting us here at our house on the ranch. They planned to meet us in the city for Christmas dinner, but once we counted all the kids, all the extended family—Kip, Cordelia, Gary, Theo's mom, Theo's sister—we decided there wasn’t enough room to host everyone at our house in the city.

So here we are, spending Christmas at our house on the ranch, getting ready to host everyone. I don't know what it is about family get-togethers that puts Bailey so on edge. Maybe it's because she never had them growing up. Or maybe it's because she still thinks people perceive her as the girl from the wrong side of the tracks.

All I know is, she loves my family like they're her own and they've all taken her in like she's one of their own too.

She thinks the dinner she makes is a big deal to them, but I'm pretty sure she could serve hotdogs on plain-ass buns and they'd all be happy to be here with her.

So when my phone rings and Willa's name flashes across it, I assume it's something about her parents joining us, even though they're spending the winter in Portugal. Or maybe she’s calling to say her brother has decided to come out this way. Either way, I figure this is a heads-up that we need a few more chairs.

I flick the answer button and say, "Merry Christmas, Willa. What did Santa bring you?"

“Dude, I got these amazing sparkles to put in my mimosas. Knowing Bailey, you guys probably have a ten-course perfectly paired meal for us, but, honest to God, I'm putting sparkles in my champagne tonight and nobody can stop me.”

“Willa, I would never stop you from putting sparkles in your champagne. You go girl.”

“Yeah, it's weird when you say that.”

I snort. “Thanks, Wils. What did Cade get from Santa?”

She bursts out laughing. “Oh, man, just wait. Ask him when you get here. I can't even tell you. You just gotta ask him.”

I freeze. “Wait, why did you say get here?”

“Oh, right. Sorry, that's why I was calling. Got distracted by the sparkles. Winter had her baby in Harvey's spare room. Or the bath. Or something.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, she had a boy. She's here. Theo's here. Actually, everybody's here. But there's also a brand spankin’ new bathtub baby. So we're moving Christmas here because Winter's resting on the couch. I don’t think we should make her move after giving birth, ya know?”

“Is she okay?” I ask.

“Of course she's okay. Her vag is probably pretty sore, but these are the breaks.”

I squeeze the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “I just... things can go wrong. I was checking on her.”

“Yeah, she's good. She's a tough fuckin’ cookie. I am also in awe of her snark. She’s taken trolling Harv to a new level. All those crazy names he’s been suggesting? Jokes on him, they legit named that baby Harvey.”

I bark out a loud laugh. “They didn’t.”

Willa sounds thoroughly amused. “They really did.”

“Epic. How’s Theo?”

“I think Theo's the one who's not okay. He's all emotional and shit. I told him the baby looked like Winter, and he started crying.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. He said something about how Winter always wanted Vivi to look like her and was annoyed by the fact she looked like him. So he’s just happy she finally got that experience. The guy is beyond pussy whipped.”

“So is Cade,” I volley.

But Willa doesn’t miss a beat. “So are you.”

“I’m not in a position to argue that.”

Bailey watches me from across the room with furrowed brows. "Is everything okay?" she whispers.

I nod at her and wrap things up with Willa. "Okay, that's fine. We, um, we'll head over."

It's Bailey's turn to freeze. “What?”

Willa hangs up without saying goodbye in typical Willa fashion, and I turn to Bailey.

“What did you just say? What do you mean by head over there?”

I hold my hands up because Bailey looks like she’s about to murder me. “Hear me out. Winter had her baby.”

Her body language instantly changes from murderous to merry. “Oh, my gosh. She had her baby? Is it a boy or girl?”

“It’s a boy.”

“That’s amazing.”

“She had him at my dad’s house. Like... today.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, in the bathtub.”

“Oh, okay.” She glances around the kitchen. “We better pack this up and get over there. Winter and Theo need to relax and have some food.”

“Yeah?” The way she’s pivoting to make this work makes my chest feel all warm. I’ve always known Bailey was a good human. But every day she shows it. Selfless. Caring. Doting. “Yeah, of course. What are we going to do? Make a new mom travel to our house to have Christmas dinner? I bet her vag is really sore.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

She ignores me and keeps monologuing. “This is that baby’s first Christmas. It needs to be as special as possible.”

With that decree, Bailey and I pack everything up. It takes us several trips over to the main farmhouse, but we do it. We take all the Christmas crackers, all the settings, all the napkins, all the centerpieces. Everything that Bailey planned for the perfect Christmas dinner.

And seeing our entire family together under one roof for Christmas with the addition of a new baby gives me a kind of peace I’m not sure I’ve ever felt.

Watching Bailey hold a newborn baby stirs something inside of me I wasn’t sure existed. Sure, I love being an uncle, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever be cut out for fatherhood.

Then again, I wasn’t truly sure I’d be able to let my guard down enough—trust somebody enough—to want that with them.

But watching Bailey hold that little boy? Something in me shifts, and I know that she’ll be holding one of our own someday.

Cade and Rhett approach me. Cade settles on one side of me with crossed arms and a very festive frown.

Rhett, on the other side, elbows me. “You got baby rabies, brother?”

I elbow him back with a chuckle. “Yeah, man, don’t you?”

Rhett nods. “Yeah. I got ‘em bad. It’s time. How about you two?”

I stare at Bailey and consider our life right now. It feels like we’re just starting out. She’s not done school yet. I’m still new with the fire department.

“Not yet,” I say, surely. “One day, but not yet. We’ve got too much life to live before we do that.”

Cade nods sternly. “Smart.”

I lift my brows in surprise. Cade has got to be one of the best dads to ever dad. “Yeah? Not a very good Christmas?” I know exactly where I’m going with this.

“Christmas was good. Watching the kids is pretty much the highlight at this point.”

I nod thoughtfully before I ask, “Get anything good from Santa?”

Rhett goes stiff beside me. He turns, trying to seem interested in the chaos in front of us.

I follow his gaze to see Jasper and Sloane talking with Harvey and Cordelia. They look epically happy.

Cade leans forward and glances across me at Rhett. “I don’t know, Rhett. What did I get for Christmas?”

Rhett shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. I can’t tell you guys what Santa brought me. It’s not rated PG. But Cade, you go ahead.”

Cade glares, and I’m intrigued. There seems to be something going on between the two of them.

“Did Santa not come to your house?” Rhett teases, and my head flips back and forth between my two brothers.

“Of course Santa came to my house. Santa came to my house better than he’s ever come before.” He spits the words out at our younger brother.

And I can’t figure out why Santa showing up at his house and making his kids happy would have him in such a mood.

“Okay and... Santa dropped off a bag of toys?” I ask.

Cade dips his chin solemnly. “He sure fucking did. He brought Willa sparkles for her champagne.”

I chuckle now. “Yeah, she’s real excited about those. Told me about them before she even got to the part about Winter having her baby.”

Cade forges ahead, eyes still sliced across me. “And what did Santa bring me, Rhett?”

Rhett shrugs, but I can see the shit-eating grin on his face. “I’m not sure, Cade. What did Santa bring you?”

The back and forth bickering with these two has always been the death of me. “You guys are killing me. Out with it!”

“Coal,” Cade bites out. “Coal. He brought me a lump of coal.”

My shoulders shake as I laugh. “Harsh. I don’t know who the fuck Santa thinks he is, Cade.”

“Santa is an immature little dick. That’s who he is. And Luke’s been teasing me all day about how I got coal for Christmas.” Cade’s grump I is wavering. We all know he thinks it’s funny, but he still feels the need to be all growly about it.

Rhett looks like he’s biting his cheek so hard he might be tasting blood.

“Well, Cade, you know you can’t question Santa’s choices. His judgment is final. I mean, if you’ve been a grumpy bitch all year, then coal is what you get.”

I look at my younger brother. “Wait, did you really pull that off without me?”

He grins at me. “Sorry, brother. I think next year you’ll be the one having to play Santa. Because I’ll be the one at home barking into the night because he heard someone having fun and that breaks every one of Cade Eaton’s Grinch-inspired laws.”

“Okay, that’s it.” Cade goes to grab Rhett, but in a flash, we’re transported back to our boyhood. Rhett spins out of reach and darts across the room and down the hallway to the front foyer. He looks exactly how he did as a little boy when he’d needle Cade to a breaking point. They both barrel out the front door and I turn to follow.

Because there’s no way I’m sitting this one out.

One look over my shoulder lets me see Jasper has perked up at the sound of heavy feet thumping down the hallway.

Cade's already gone outside in hot pursuit of Rhett, leaving the door wide open.

Those assholes didn't even bother putting shoes on, but they're out in the driveway. Having a full-on snowball fight.

Rhett hides behind a car, pops up, and chucks a huge one that hits Cade square in the face.

Standing in the doorway, I burst out laughing. And so does Jasper from behind me.

I give him a look, my cheeks aching with the width of my grin. "You in?"

He nods. "Fuck yeah. I'm in."

He and I are smart enough to put our boots on before stepping outside, but then we roll up with huge handfuls of snow. I shove mine down the back of Cade's T-shirt.

"Are you little pricks for real right now?"

Jasper laughs, and I think he's about to pile on to Cade, but he turns and smokes me in the face with his massive snowball. It explodes into a cloud of powder and the next ten minutes turn into an all-out war between men who grew up pulling the same shit as boys.

Cade's barking at us.

Jasper has the giggles.

Rhett's hitting everybody and has no strategy or rhyme or reason to what he's doing.

And I find myself taken back to some of the best days of my life.

Except I think I might be even happier now.

One glance up at the front door and I see the reason why.

Bailey.

She smiles and shakes her head, eyes brimming with more love than I’ve ever known. "I told you that you were a man-child!” she shouts.

I’m so busy laughing and staring at her that I take another snowball to the face. But even that doesn’t stop me from thinking this Christmas in Chestnut Springs just might be the best one yet.