by Jenna Sutton
Something flickered in her eyes, but it was gone before he could identify it. “Will you marry me, Jonah?”
He shook his head, sure he was hearing things. “What did you just say?”
“Will you marry me?” she repeated, her voice shaking.
“You’re asking me to marry you?” he asked, unable to hide his surprise.
“Yes.”
He lurched to his feet, accidentally knocking over the chair. She looked up at him, her lower lip caught in her teeth.
She sighed softly. “I’m always a few steps ahead of you, handsome.”
“Most of the time,” he agreed, reaching into his pocket and palming the small leather box there. “But not always.”
“I know you don’t want to make the same mistake your dad made—”
Her words died in her throat when he got down on one knee in front of her. His hands were trembling, but he had enough coordination to pull the box from his pocket. She gasped, her eyes wide with shock, before covering her mouth with both hands.
He opened the box so she could see the engagement ring inside. He’d bought it the day after Amelia stopped by his loft. He hadn’t been sure how things would play out with Ava Grace when he came to Nashville, but he’d wanted to be prepared. He’d been a Boy Scout, after all.
He tossed aside the box and tugged her hands away from her mouth. “As long as I marry you, I won’t make the same mistake my dad made.” He slid the ring onto her finger. “I’ll have a wife who will love me and our kids. I’ll have a wife who will stick around and have my back.” He kissed her knuckle just above the four-carat cushion-cut diamond. “I’ll have everything he didn’t have.”
She looked down at her hand, rubbing her finger over the round diamonds on the platinum band. “Sparkly,” she whispered.
He chuckled, and her eyes snapped to his. “Is this an engagement ring?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “I accept your proposal of marriage, Miz Landy.”
Her lips lifted in a breathtaking, imperfect smile. “My future husband. Jonah Trueheart Beck.” Her smile widened. “I really like your middle name. It suits you.”
“You think Trueheart suits me?”
“Yes. You have a true heart.”
He placed his palm on her chest, right over her heart. “So do you.”
EPILOGUE
Seven years later
As Beck searched the backpack for his three-year-old son’s favorite dinosaur pajamas, Ava Grace’s voice floated into the tent.
“I can tell you ate s’mores because your face is sticky, sticky, sticky,” she teased in a sing-song voice. “Give Mommy some sticky kisses.”
Loud, smacking kisses mixed with high-pitched giggles, and warmth filled Beck’s chest. There was no better sound in the world than his son’s childish laughter … except maybe his wife’s throaty moans.
He hoped to hear a few moans tonight. But first he had to find those damn pajamas. Even thought it was early summer, it was too cold in Big Basin Redwoods State Park to sleep unclothed.
“Pajamas, pajamas, where are you?” he muttered, digging through the backpack. “I know I put you in here.”
He’d just found the sleepwear when Ava Grace stepped into the tent. Their son hung on her like a monkey, his chubby arms clamped around her neck and his short legs wrapped around her waist. Chicken stood next to her, his tail wagging to a slow beat.
“Daddy,” she said with a wide smile, “True wants you to help him brush his teeth.”
He and Ava Grace had broken with tradition when they named their son. Instead of giving him a different middle name, he was a junior: Jonah Trueheart Beck Jr. They called him True.
Physically, True was a carbon copy of Beck. But he had Ava Grace’s personality. He stuck his little nose into everything, and he was crabby in the morning. And like his mommy, he also was smart, generous, and loving.
As Beck plucked True from Ava Grace’s arms, he dropped a kiss on her luscious mouth. It was warm and sweet from the s’more she’d eaten earlier.
“True’s mouth isn’t the only one that’s sticky,” he murmured, looking forward to getting more sticky kisses from her once True was asleep.
“I give you sticky kisses too,” True offered before laying one on him.
Chuckling, Beck hugged his boy tighter. “Thank you. I can never have too many of those.”
“We need to clean that sticky face and those sticky teeth and get you in bed,” Ava Grace told True, flipping her long blond braid over her shoulder and exiting the tent with purposeful strides.
He followed behind her, True’s dark head tucked against his shoulder. The little guy was worn out from a busy day of hiking and playing in the river.
Knowing a meltdown was imminent, Beck and Ava Grace worked fast to get True ready for bed. It was something they did together nearly every night, and they were an efficient team.
Minutes later, True was back in the tent, snuggled in a fluffy sleeping bag with Chicken cuddled up next to him. Beck kneeled in front of them, while Ava Grace sat on the side of the inflatable mattress, gently running her fingers through their son’s curly hair.
Beck took a moment to send up a silent prayer of thanks for his wife. Unlike Sibley Beck, Ava Grace had a nurturing streak in her a mile wide. She was a wonderful mother—attentive, loving, protective, and surprisingly patient.
“Mommy,” True said in his sweet little voice, “will you sing my song?”
When their son had been a newborn, Ava Grace wrote a lullaby called “True Love.” It was their special song.
A couple of years ago, the head of River Pearl Records heard her singing it when he’d unexpectedly dropped by her dressing room before a charity concert. He asked her to record the lullaby, and for the first time since she’d signed with the label, she said no. She hadn’t wanted to share “True Love” with the whole world.
Her resistance had escalated into a showdown between her and River Pearl Records. Although the label eventually caved, the experience had soured the relationship, at least from Ava Grace’s perspective.
Surprisingly, the dustup had been the best thing to happen to her career. With Beck’s full support, she’d struck out on her own and launched her own label. Now that she called all the shots, she no longer had to produce albums as frequently, and she’d toured only once since giving birth to True.
She spent most of her time cultivating up-and-coming musicians, and she liked that just as much as performing. Over the past three years, her artists had won more ACEs than any other label, which elevated Ava Grace’s position in the country music world.
Earlier this year, she was invited to join the Grand Ole Opry. The induction ceremony was scheduled for next month in Nashville.
Ava Grace began to croon the lullaby to True, and Beck hummed along with her. It didn’t take long for their son to fall asleep, his arms tight around the stuffed blue giraffe Gabe had presented only a few hours after baby boy Beck made his appearance into the world.
Beck and Ava Grace had needed medical intervention to get pregnant with True. They’d started trying for a baby two years after they married, and despite their diligent and pleasurable efforts, more than a year passed without a positive pregnancy test.
The fertility specialist had given Ava Grace pills that made her crabby morning, noon, and night. Fortunately, they got pregnant after two months of medication.
After True’s birth, they hadn’t bothered with birth control. Beck figured they’d need to seek medical help again when they decided to expand their family.
True made a little snuffling sound, and Beck took a mental picture of his son’s face—the long eyelashes, the rosy baby skin, the pink lips that were open just a little. He felt a pang of sadness his father wasn’t alive to see his grandson, but it didn’t last long. He was too blessed to get hung up on what he didn’t have.
He stood and then pulled Ava Grace to her feet. She led the way out of the tent, and he stopped to dim the camp lantern befo
re following her. As she bent to zip the flap closed to keep out the cold air, he took a moment to appreciate the glorious sight of his wife’s ass outlined in tan hiking pants.
Motherhood looked good on Ava Grace. Her breasts, hips, and ass were rounder than they’d been before True, but she was still slender.
She liked her curves just fine, and he loved them. He loved them so much he couldn’t help reaching out and giving her ass a little squeeze. Yelping, she straightened clumsily and spun to face him, a chastising expression on her beautiful face.
He arched his eyebrows. “Don’t give me that look, sugar. You did the same thing to me when I was making dinner.”
A lascivious smile replaced her reproving expression. “I couldn’t help myself.”
With a laugh, he cupped her hips and pulled her to him. “Exactly.” He slid his hand under the hem of her long-sleeved T-shirt and rubbed the silky skin of her back. “Want to make out in front of the fire?”
She nodded eagerly. It only took a moment for them to remove their hiking boots and get comfortable on the inflatable mattress and puffy sleeping bags. He settled on his back, and she pulled the covers over them.
She nestled against him, her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. Nuzzling his face in her hair, he took a deep breath. He didn’t know how she could smell so good after an active day in the forest, but she did.
She sighed softly. “I’m really glad we were able to do this … to spend some time alone as a family. The summer is going to be so busy.” She sighed again. “I hope True will be okay with all the travel.”
“He’ll be fine,” he assured her.
More often than not, Ava Grace took True with her when she traveled, and Beck usually tagged along. He didn’t like to be away from his wife and son.
Although Ava Grace still owned the farmhouse outside Nashville, the Beck family lived in San Francisco. Shortly after he and Ava Grace had gotten engaged, she stomped into the home office they’d set up for him in Amelia’s old workshop and announced it was “stupid to live in Nashville.”
He’d liked living in Tennessee. It reminded him of where he’d grown up. And he hadn’t lied when he’d told Ava Grace he’d be happy anywhere as long as he could sleep beside her at night and wake up with her in the morning.
Assuming she was annoyed about something work-related, he’d asked his bride-to-be why it was stupid to live in Nashville. “Amelia’s pregnant, and I’m far away,” she’d said, her voice almost a wail. “What if she goes into labor, and I can’t get there before the baby’s born?” Barely pausing for a breath, she’d asked, “Don’t you miss Gabe and Ren and Gatsby? I miss them a lot. I miss our family.”
So they’d decided to make their home in San Francisco. They’d bought a big house in the same neighborhood where Quinn’s parents lived and turned the attic into a recording studio for Ava Grace.
Figuring out what to do about Ava Grace’s father had been tough. After consulting with Chuck’s physicians, she brought him to the Bay Area and placed him in one of the nation’s best memory care facilities.
She visited him regularly with True and her guitar, but Chuck wasn’t in good health. Beck doubted her father would be alive this time next year, and he knew she’d take Chuck’s death hard because she’d mourn the relationship they never had.
“I think we made a good decision to let True stay with Amelia and Quinn and the boys when we go to Boston for the International Wine and Spirits Show in a couple of weeks. It’s a long plane ride, and we’re only going to be there for three days.” Slipping her hand under the bottom of his T-shirt, she stroked his stomach with her smooth fingers. “I think Double-Barreled is going to bring home the gold medal this year.”
Double-Barreled was Trinity’s newest bourbon, a spirit aged in two different kinds of oak barrels. The extra aging gave the bourbon a richer, deeper flavor. They’d decanted the first Trinity Double-Barreled just last month, and Ellis swore it was the best he’d ever distilled.
Demand for Trinity was so strong they couldn’t make it fast enough. For the business to continue to grow, they needed to produce more bourbon. But the fermenting tanks, stills, and rickhouse were at capacity.
They were currently evaluating ways to expand, but the distillery’s urban location made it difficult. The best solution they’d come up with was to build a bigger rickhouse outside the city.
Because of the supply-demand imbalance, Trinity was now the most expensive bourbon on the market. It wasn’t super premium; it was über-premium.
Right after True celebrated his first birthday, they’d increased the price of a bottle by thirty percent. Beck expected demand to level off, but the price increase only made people want Trinity more. So they upped the price another thirty percent, and revenue and profit skyrocketed.
“I hope Double-Barreled sells as well as traditional Trinity,” he said.
She patted his stomach. “It will. Don’t worry.”
Her absolute confidence in him—her unwavering faith—sent sparks of delight and gratitude through him. He’d wanted a wife who’d stand beside him and have his back, and Ava Grace did exactly that. No one was more loyal than his wife, not even Gabe or Ren.
“I got word from my publisher that two boxes of my new cookbook were shipped to the convention center,” she said. “We can do a drawing and give away signed copies, or you guys can give them away as special gifts.”
Ava Grace’s newest cookbook had come out two weeks ago, debuting on the non-fiction bestsellers’ list. Unlike the first two, which had included bourbon recipes for all types of food, this cookbook was exclusively for desserts and sweets.
He’d gained ten pounds from Ava Grace’s “research.” He probably would’ve packed on more if not for the fact that True had just learned to walk, and Beck had burned calories chasing after his newly mobile son.
“You’re still okay going with me to New York for three weeks after the Wine and Spirits Show?” she asked.
“Of course. It’ll be fun.” He grimaced slightly. “Well, it’ll be fun for me and True. You have to work.”
Ava Grace was scheduled to tape segments on several popular cooking shows to promote her cookbook. She also was booked on all the big morning shows. She planned to whip up a couple of easy, sweet recipes on air. Beck loved to watch those live appearances because her banter while she measured and stirred was hilarious.
She lightly scraped her nails through the hair on his stomach, and his blood heated to a low simmer. His cock thickened against the fly of his cargo pants, and he waited, eager for her hand to move lower. Instead, she spoke again.
“Wally got a call from the NFL yesterday. They want me to do the half-time show for next year’s Super Bowl.”
“Holy shit!” He wiggled out from under her and rolled to face her. “That’s incredible, sugar! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, he pulled her to him and gave her a loud, smacking kiss. “I’m so proud of you. We need to celebrate!”
“I turned them down.”
Shock made his head jerk back. “What?”
“I turned them down,” she repeated.
He wished he could see the nuances of her expression. Unfortunately, the fire didn’t offer much illumination, and the moon was only a sliver in the starry sky.
“But why?” he asked, both baffled and disappointed. “You would’ve given them the best show they’d ever seen.”
He couldn’t imagine a single reason she’d turn down such an amazing opportunity. She’d performed in front of huge audiences before.
“Because I’ll be nine months pregnant, and I don’t think I could give them a good show, let alone the best show they’d ever seen.”
It took him a moment to comprehend her words. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes.”
His hand slipped off her neck and fell to her shoulder. “But … but … how?” he stuttered.
She laughed softly, a warm puff of air. “T
he usual way, handsome.”
“Are you sure?” he rasped.
“Yes. I’m about five weeks along.” She touched his cheek. “I know we haven’t talked about another baby, but I’m really happy. Are you?”
Emotion made his throat ache. “You could say that.”
Happy was a ham sandwich. This was a five-course gourmet meal.
He had a loving wife. A healthy son. A thriving business. A great group of friends. And now he had another baby on the way.
He gently maneuvered her onto her back and placed his palm on her flat stomach, where their child grew. “You’ve given me everything I ever wanted. And you’ve given me things I didn’t even know I needed. Thank you.”
She put her hands over his. “I love you, Jonah.”
“I love you too.”
He lifted her T-shirt and unbuttoned her pants before releasing the zipper and revealing her lavender panties. Scooting down, he dusted kisses around her belly button and over her stomach.
“I can’t wait ‘til your belly gets all big and round,” he murmured against her smooth, fragrant skin.
She giggled huskily, her stomach rippling under his mouth. “Why?”
“Don’t you remember, sugar?” he teased. “It’s perfect for body shots.”
* * *
Thank you for reading Barreled Over! I hope you enjoyed getting to know Ava Grace and Beck as much I enjoyed writing their story!
Please help other readers find this book by reviewing it on Amazon, B&N, or Goodreads. If you leave a review, make sure to let me know by emailing me at [email protected], and I’ll send you a special gift (a mini keychain flask, a set of wooden coasters, a stainless-steel shot glass, or a bourbon T-shirt like the ones Beck wears).
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