by Nicole Snow
I give her a wink. “You’ve got this, Peach. Let’s rock and roll.”
A moment later, we do exactly that.
Her folks have the wide front door with the stained glass already open and waiting.
As we walk up the steps, Gloria Redson-Riddle-Coffey gives new meaning to the term ice queen. Her attitude could send a penguin chasing after a space heater.
She kisses the air beside both of Tory’s cheeks but doesn’t even look my way with more than a passing blink.
“Faulkner,” she says with a terse nod.
“Ma’am.” Screw it, I give it right back, barely dipping my chin.
We might be guests here, walking on the world’s thinnest eggshells, but I’ll be damned if I look like a spineless pushover for the sake of politeness.
A tall man walks out of the door behind Gloria.
“Hello, sweetheart!” He gives Tory a solid bear hug before extending his hand to me. “Quinn, I’m John Coffey. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you.”
Gloria huffs out an offended breath as John and I shake hands. Noting the way his eyes twinkle, much like Granny Coffey’s, I say, “If those good things are all from your mother, you might want to take ’em with a grain of salt. The woman loves to embellish.”
He lets out a laugh and slaps my back. “You know my mother well. Come on in. I have steaks ready to grill and cold beer.”
“Sounds great,” I say, laying a hand on Tory’s back.
Her old man isn’t quite what I expected.
He has a pulse, for one, and a smile that seems genuine.
It’s hard to see the money grubber who spent his whole life burying his small-town roots to keep his woman happy, but first looks can be deceiving.
Tory smiles up at me. I give her another wink, letting her know we’re in this together.
A short time later, John and I are on a huge tiered deck out back. Alone because Gloria insisted she needed to talk to Tory—girl to girl.
John lights the grill, then sits down on one of the cushioned deck chairs.
“You know, this is the day I’ve dreaded for years,” he says with a sigh.
“Why’s that?” I ask, assuming he’s referring to Tory moving out.
“Because I have to come to grips with the fact that I’m trusting another man to take care of my little girl for the rest of her life.”
Shit.
What?
“Come again?” I blink at him in genuine surprise.
He smiles, almost a little sadly, his eyes drifting over to the warming grill.
“I’m not gonna lie. Gloria’s fit to be tied with all this—Tory walking out on her old life, old career, old boyfriend.” He winces when he says the last word and leans toward me, lowering his voice. “I never liked the guy.”
I nod, glad there’s something we can agree on.
“Anyhow, I heard about what happened back in Dallas with you and that bust. Tory told me plenty over the phone, how you came to her rescue. Maybe something you had experience with long before getting mixed up with that Pickett trouble, if I remember what she used to say about those summers in North Dakota.” He winks at me. “That’s why I can’t share my wife’s hesitation. Every version of the story I heard from Mama, Dean, and Tory goes slightly different, but they all agree on one thing—you’d die for my daughter.”
“I would.” I look at him, wondering where this is going.
“Well, any guy who’d put his life on the line for my Tory, who loves her that much, isn’t a man worth second guessing,” he says, meeting my gaze. “You’ve earned my respect, Quinn, and an honest shot at keeping her happy.”
I nod, understanding this must be difficult for him, caught between his wife’s attitude and his own heart. “I’d never do anything to hurt Tory. I’ll protect her with my life.”
“Glad to hear it.” He takes a drink off his beer, then says, “What I want to know, Quinn, is if you’ll live for her, too?”
I’ve just gained massive respect for this man.
He puts things in a perspective that’s often too skewed.
“Live for her to fulfill her dreams, whatever they are, dancing or something else,” he continues. “Live for her to find the destiny she’s always craved, but was always too stifled to search for, to grasp. My Gloria, she made mistakes. That’s the one thing we struggled to give our daughter—free reign—but the past few months have helped me realize it’s the thing she needs.”
What else can I do but answer honestly?
“I’ll do what you’re asking, but I need to tell you...I’m not steering her decisions. It’ll always be up to her, and whatever that choice is, I’ll be right behind her in any capacity she needs.”
He sits thoughtfully for a moment before he nods.
“I believe you will, Quinn, and I can’t ask for more.” He leans across the table, his hand extended. “Whatever the two of you decide, know that you have my blessing.”
I stand to give him the respect he deserves, and wait for him to stand up before taking his hand and shaking it fiercely. “Thank you, Mr. Coffey.”
“Call me, John,” he says, smiling like the sun.
I nod as we both sit back down.
“Tory’s always loved Dallas, you know. I’m guessing she’ll be happy there. Frankly, I expected her to move out there years ago.”
“She was busy here,” I say, taking a long pull off my own beer. “All in the timing.”
“Timing, yes. She waited because you weren’t there.” He takes another long drink off his beer and then holds up the bottle. “There’s a lot to be said about fate. Her moving back, finding you again, finding herself...it’s like everything’s coming full circle.”
I lift my beer bottle and clink it against his.
“I’ll drink to that, John.” He’s so pleasantly different from his wife.
I wonder how the hell they’ve been married for so long.
“Gloria will come around,” he says a minute later, almost reading my mind. “She’s been stuck, reliving her younger years through Tory, being the overprotective mama bear she is at heart. She’s a good woman, even if her instincts are wrong—believe it or not—I wouldn’t love her as much as I do if she wasn’t. She just needs time, like Tory, to figure it all out.”
Once again, I’m impressed with this man and his calm.
I look forward to getting to know him better. We spend the next half hour or so talking about a variety of subjects, until the sliding glass door opens.
“Look who’s here!”
John and I both turn and watch as Gloria, hugging his arm, escorts a short, thin man with spectacles onto the deck. I have to do a double take.
The guy’s wearing a professorial sweater vest that looks like it came from the last century, tight jeans, and has his curly hair tucked up in a frizzy, uneven man bun.
“Jean-Paul couldn’t resist a chance to wish Tory well while she’s in town,” Gloria says. “Say hello.”
John Coffey looks at me with an apologetic frown. The subtle glint in his eye also reminds me so much of Granny Coffey when she’s up to some mischief that I have to bite back a laugh.
“Jean-Paul,” John says with a broad, fake-as-hell grin, motioning at me. “Meet Quinn Faulkner, Tory’s boyfriend.”
For a second, I stop and stare.
Gloria’s mannequin-like smile tells me everything I need to know.
I’m being tested. She wants to see if I’ll go full Neanderthal and turn this little get-together into a shit-fight over a snail.
I ain’t gonna lie—it’s hell plastering on the phoniest smile of my life and walking up to this pissant.
“We’ve met over the phone,” I say cheerfully, then greet Jean-Paul with a handshake that nearly rips his arm off.
Believe me, it doesn’t take much.
My gaze goes to Tory, who steps outside behind her mother with a worried look. I flash her an everything’s okay grin.
The look in her eyes says, yeah
, I can’t believe it, either.
This was the worm she considered marrying at one point.
Now, he’s nothing.
Just a stranger with a plastic, desperate smile and a mumbled, “Pleasure to meet you.”
He’s playing nice for Gloria’s amusement. Probably so he can cling to her money after I’ve made her daughter off-limits till the death of the universe.
“Mother invited Jean-Paul to join us for dinner,” Tory says with a mortified smile.
“Awesome,” I lie, holding my hand out as she instantly arrives at my side for a searing kiss that borders just on obscene before I glance at Jean-Paul again. “Nothing like a good grilled steak, right, buddy?”
“Jean-Paul doesn’t eat meat,” Gloria cuts in. “I have a delicious, seasoned portabella mushroom for John to grill him.”
Pulling Tory closer, I whisper, “Okay, now we have a problem. Eggplant is one thing, and so is your ex being here, but I’m not replacing my steak with a goddamned mushroom.”
“I know,” she says, her eyes glittering as she laughs, squeezing me tight. “And I’m glad.”
That meal is actually one of the highlights of our trip.
By the time it’s over, I’m convinced that her ma and Jean-Paul both know Tory’s made her choice permanently, and nothing will ever change her mind.
The next day, Gloria actually softens up and treats me like a human being for the first time as she serves us a big breakfast. Waffles, Portuguese sausage, duck eggs, and fresh squeezed blood orange juice.
Fancier than I’m used to, but the stuff tastes good and it could grow on a dude.
Just like I’m hoping her mother will someday, far in the future.
We leave Chicago a couple days later with the box of my truck full and towing Tory’s pink convertible Volkswagen bug. She’ll have to stick to the main roads in Dallas with that thing, but at least she’ll have wheels again.
My parting invitation for her parents to visit us whenever they can is sincere.
Tory really shined while we were there, and I want them to know that she’s in full control of her new life.
Before I can even blink, the rest of summer blurs by.
By October, I believe Tory’s happy settling into her new life, and I know I am. I’m also ready to make it forever.
The ring is in my pocket, and the rest is in place.
No thanks to Granny again. The old woman has more tricks up her sleeves than any magician. While Tory was busy helping Grace set up the big harvest festival at the Barnet-Sellers pumpkin farm, Granny’s been a busy bee.
She swore everything would be picture perfect when I bring my girl home tonight—hopefully as my fiancée.
I turned down a new position with the FBI, no surprise, but accepted one with the local sheriff’s department, just part time, which gives me plenty of time to keep helping with the goats.
They’ve just retired for the season and are housed back at Dean’s place for the winter. Tory insists on keeping up with it for something to do while Dean shares more of the workload.
She loves those goats, though, especially Hellboy.
I swear, if I’d let her, that goat would be inside the house with us just like Owl.
Part of the harvest festival includes a petting zoo, and of course, that means the goats, which is where I find her.
“How’s it going out here?” I ask, stepping up behind her near sunset.
“So far? Wonderful!” She sets down a big floppy-eared rabbit on the hay and pats a little girl’s head while walking toward me. “The kids adore the animals.” Stepping closer, she whispers, “Edison is the main attraction, as always, but don’t tell Hellboy. He’s pulling a close second.”
I kiss her. “I won’t say a word, Peach. Can’t let anything go to that boy’s head.”
Giggling, she grasps my arm with both hands. “Isn’t this grand? People have been coming all day, picking pumpkins, buying crafts and homemade goodies, having hayrides and walking through the corn maze...I’ve never seen anything like it. I always thought this town just kinda shut down after summer.”
“Nah, wait for winter when we’re waist-deep in snow dunes. Then you’re snowed in and it’s time to get creative.” My heart thuds at the way her eyes sparkle.
Fuck, I’ll never get tired of looking at her.
Better get over my nerves and cough up what I’m here to do.
“Looks like a big hit. The entire town’s been looking forward to this for weeks,” I say.
“I can see why.” She glances around at the crowd. “Granny’s supposed to be here somewhere, but I haven’t seen her.” Lowering her voice to a giggling whisper, she adds, “Probably with Robert Duncan again. The two of them are acting like a couple of sneaky teenagers.”
I chuckle. Ever since their Alaskan cruise, Granny and Robert have become closer friends, though she still calls him an old goat.
“Yeah, I saw them going in the maze a little while ago,” I tell her, scratching my leg. It’s like the ring in my pocket is burning a hole through the material. “So are you about ready to head home and rest?”
“Very ready. I know I’d better pace myself. The last week was crazy enough with getting this set up, but worth it. Grace says it’ll run for at least the next three weeks through Halloween, unless the first freeze takes out the pumpkins.” She points at the petting zoo. “Uncle Dean will be back in the morning to help with feeding. He’s also sold four horseshoe coat racks today and wants to be here bright and early to peddle more.”
I smile. “Maybe he’s finally found his calling.”
“For this week, you mean.” She laughs.
Then, wagging a finger at Ridge, Grace, and a surprisingly content-looking Cornelius the rooster milling around near the hay wagon, she says, “Let’s go say goodbye and get out of here. I’m beat.”
“Not too tired, I hope.”
She turns, shooting me one of her coy, sexy smiles. “I’m never too tired for you.”
We spend a few minutes congratulating Ridge and Grace on the successful grand opening and then head home.
The sun’s sinking below the horizon by the time I pull the truck into the driveway, leaving the sky a dusty blue streaked with shades of orange, yellow, and brilliant red.
“Any thoughts on food tonight? I could make eggplant parmesan for supper,” she says as I turn off the truck.
I shrug, having something else in place.
“No? I thought you liked it.”
“I do, but I want to show you something first. Come on.”
“Oh. All right.” She opens her door and climbs out.
I take a deep breath, knowing every movement counts now so I don’t ruin the surprise.
Just like the hundred times I’ve done before, I check my pocket, feeling to make sure the ring box is still there securely before I climb out. We meet at the front of the truck.
“So what do you want to show me?” she asks, frowning.
“It’s in the barn.” Taking her hand, we head across to the huge building.
“I haven’t even been in there the past few days with everything going on,” she says, clearly racking her brain for clues. “Wait. You didn’t. You didn’t get me one of those giant human hamster wheels I showed you on YouTube? It was a joke, Quinn, I—”
“Nah. Nothing quite that insane.” I grin, knowing what I’ve got planned might just be crazier.
She gives me a skeptical look.
I just smile and stare at her longer than I mean to.
To say I’m a little nervous is like calling Owl a little puppy.
I never thought I’d be here, planning to put it all on the line, asking Tory Three Names if she’ll have me forever, but...here the hell we go.
I love her, and that ought to be enough. More than I ever imagined. There isn’t a single shred of doubt I want to spend the rest of my life with this woman.
She hears the soft music as we get closer and glances up at me again, a slow smile forming on
her heart-shaped lips.
I don’t say anything yet, just open the door languidly and step aside for her to enter first.
“Quinn Faulkner!” she belts out my name, taking a deep breath. “This is...it’s beautiful. But why?”
I follow her inside and have to agree as I close the door.
The strings of twinkling lights I’d hung along the beams, entwined in her silk ropes, fill the entire space with a mellow glow. In the center of the floor, there’s a table, draped with an ivory-white cloth like a little preview of white, silky things to come.
Flowers everywhere.
An ice bucket with a bottle of champagne chilling in it, and a large platter of finger foods are also on the table, ready to be devoured in celebration.
She looks at me slowly. “When did you have time? You’ve been at the pumpkin farm all day.”
“A little old lady helped me,” I say with a shrug.
She laughs, shakes her head, and looks around.
“This is so lovely.” Glancing at me again, she adds, “And romantic.”
“Good. That’s the vibe I was going for,” I admit.
She stretches up and gives me a quick kiss. “Well, Romeo, you nailed it. I’m all yours.”
“Not yet,” I growl.
She blinks and her smile disappears.
My original plan was to pop the big fat agony question after eating, but hell, I can’t wait a second longer.
It’s now or never.
Taking a breath, I step forward, grasping her hands.
For a second, we just share this bewildered glance.
She has no clue what’s happening. That goes double for me, wondering how I can condense half a life of feelings for this woman into a few words without giving us both whiplash.
“I love you, Tory Redson-Riddle-Coffey.” I just blurt it out. “I’ve loved you for years, ever since I caught you freaking out over Gramps’ honey farm. When you fell down face-first in that peach pie, and I promised you’d find your man, even when you were so sticky and miserable you thought you’d never live it down...I had to prove you right. Here I am, darlin’. The same dude who loved you enough then to lick your face clean. Except now we’re grown up and I’m damn glad I get to taste every inch of you.”
