316 Rose Rd. (A Cherry Falls Romance Book 11)
Page 7
“I wonder what they made.” Harper peels back the aluminum foil on a baking pan. “Oh, lasagna. Should we have that tonight when Goldie and Grant come over?”
“Sounds good, oh, and Grant just texted,” I say, checking my phone with my free hand. My other hand is firmly planted on Rose’s back. “Do you mind if Holt Stone comes for dinner too?”
“I don’t mind. Goldie says he is a really great guy. She says he needs a wife though,” Harper says with a smile.
I shrug. “I only met him a few times. He went to school in Cherry Falls with Grant, I think. Guess he lives out in the Rosewood Ranchlands.”
“Well, Goldie says he is a bit of a wild one. Loves to go dancing at the Tipsy Cow most nights, apparently.”
I run my hand over Harper’s back, kissing her neck. “Are you jealous, do you wanna go out dancing?”
“Not at all.” She turns, her hands on my cheeks, kissing he hard. “I much prefer spending my nights with my mountain man and baby in the woods.”
“God, I love you,” I say.
Harper smiles, then reaches for our little girl, who has begun squawking. She takes Rose from my arm and walks to the couch to nurse her before the full-fledged wailing can begin.
“Hope he doesn’t mind babies,” Harper says with a laugh as she soothes our daughter.
I frown. “How could he not like babies?”
Harper laughs. “Sometimes I forget what a burly mountain man you used to be. Now you’re a daddy through and through.”
I chuckle. “It’s hard to believe I ever wanted to live alone.” Leaning down to Harper, where she sits in a recliner with Rose in her arms, I give my wife a kiss. Unable to resist her lips. “Why don’t you go to bed for a nap? And I’ll get the cabin cleaned up and the lasagna in the oven.”
“Thanks Cliff, I could use a little rest.”
I lift our baby from her arms and Harper heads to our bedroom. I burp Rose gently before swaddling her and laying her down in her crib.
I clean the house, make sure it’s ready for company, then I check on the baby. She is still sleeping. I check my watch, a half hour before our friends get here.
Taking advantage of the free time, I slip off my boots, and lie down in bed next to my wife. Still sleeping, she reaches for my arm, draping it over herself. I inch closer, spooning my wife, knowing that holding her in my arms is all I ever want.
She is my wild rose, and I am her mountain man, forever.
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About the Author
Frankie Love writes filthy-sweet stories about bad boys and mountain men.
As a thirty-something mom who is ridiculously in love with her own bearded hottie, she believes in love-at-first-sight and happily-ever-afters.
She also believes in the power of a quickie.
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