by Xavier Neal
“Do you have any goddamn idea how early it is?”
“It’s a little after nine.”
“In the morning, Ford.”
I shake my head and adjust the box I have tucked under my arm. “Please don’t call me that.”
“What?”
“You call me Farm Boy.”
She helplessly sweetens her stare.
“I love that you call me that. I love that you gave me a nickname. I love that I meant enough to you that you continued calling me that.” With a deep sigh, I implore, “Can I please come in so we can talk?”
Ollie lets her bottom lip hide between her teeth.
“I don’t want a custody schedule for Princess Pinky…”
My comment tempts a smirk to grace her lips.
“I wanna be proud hog parents together.”
She keeps her vow of silence she’s apparently taken yet widens the door to allow me to come in. However, once I’m inside, she braces her back against it, maintaining her distance.
The box drops onto the kitchen counter at the same time I declare, “This is home, Ollie. You. Princess Pinky. The microwave with the popcorn button that doesn’t work. The shower nozzle with a mind of its own. That God forsaken couch-”
“You wanted to get rid of the couch.”
“We can keep it,” I quickly surrender and step towards her. “We can keep anything you want or get rid of everything as long as the important things remain. You. Me. And Princess Pinky.”
Her eyes fill with what appears to be relief, but it’s short lived. “About Carol Ann-”
“There’s nothing there.”
“Clearly there’s something there, Ford. She was at your house.”
“Maybe there was something there for her, but there damn sure wasn’t shit for me.” Now standing directly in front of her, I firmly state, “Things between Carol Ann and I ended long before she left me for Daryl. I used to think I was just too stubborn to move on, but then I realized it was more than that. I didn’t move on because the perfect woman for me hadn’t entered my life yet. She hadn’t shown me how incredible things could be. Hadn’t reminded me how incredible I could be.”
A faint redness graces her cheeks.
“I was wrong for not getting the key back. I was wrong for not changing those locks. I was wrong at the very least for not telling you I hadn’t before bringing you there.”
“Why didn’t you?” Ollie pushes.
“Truth is…I think I wanted Carol Ann to show up.”
She tenses.
“I wanted her to see how happy I was. How I had moved forward. How…this time my entire life wasn’t on hold for her.”
My confession seems to take her off guard.
“It was dumb, but I honestly think I needed her to see that so she understood how our chapter in life is permanently closed. Hell, to give me some additional closure. My life is with you now, baby. Only you.” Ollie starts to grin and I’m reluctant to take it away. “But you owe me an apology.”
Her eyebrows lift in befuddlement.
“You accused me of cheating on you. And what hurt more, Ollie, was you questioned my love for you. I won’t stand for that.” I lift my frame a little higher. “I’m not gonna stand here and pretend I’m perfect, but I’ve never once gave you reason to doubt I didn’t mean it when I said I loved you. Every day we have spent together I make sure you know that. Hearing you ask, even as hot as you were over the situation, broke my heart Darlin’.”
She slowly removes the gap between us. “I’m sorry, Farm Boy. You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No. You shouldn’t have.”
“But I was just so mad-”
“I don’t give a shit how angry I ever make you, Ollie. Never question my love for you again.” An argument appears in her eyes and I kill it before it can come to fruition. “I am in love with you, Ollie. And I don’t mean some bullshit, childhood relationship gone on way too long, kinda love. This is it for me. You. Us. I want to actually marry you someday. See you in the white dress. Kiss you in the chapel. Have kids. Have grandkids. Watch your fingers shake as you try to survive virtual reality alongside them. I love you more than I love my goddamn self. I wanna take care of you now. I wanna take care of you when you’re sick. I want you to let me do those things because you love and trust me the same way I do you. So I am going to say this one more time, Ollie Steele. Never question my love again.”
Her body shoots to the tips of her toes, her arms throw themselves heedlessly around my neck and her mouth covers mine. The surprise is short and instantly embraced. Our lips roughly part. Our tongues tumble tenderly. Our bodies press together and everything in life seems to line back up in the perfect order.
She pulls away and softly claims, “Never again.”
“Good.” I tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “Now….the brand new keys to our house are in the box along with my western collection.”
Ollie dramatically groans and tosses her head back. “I haven’t had enough sleep for that.”
“Then make up sex first, sleep next, cowboys and burgers afterwards.”
Her grin appears in all its glory tempting my knees to buckle from the weight of my gratitude from seeing it again. “This sounds an awful lot like how all this began…”
“And look how amazing it’s been.”
And how amazing it will continue to be. Sure, neither of us expected this to happen when she opened the door, but we’ve never regretted it. I can’t speak for her, but I know I never will. No matter what life throws at us or where it goes, landing on her door step, fighting over a hog, and giving the unexpected a shot will always be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Epilogue
Three years later…
I groan in discomfort from my spot on the porch swing.
No one should have to be pregnant in the summer time. That should be a law. It should be illegal to make someone suffer like this. How is it even possible for the human body to get this hot? I’m pretty sure I could roast hot dogs between my thighs and still risk burning them.
Ford rushes up the stairs with our toddler, our blue heeler puppy, and our hog on his tail. He crashes into the open space beside me with a heavy thud, completely breathless. Clint excitedly bumps into his leg and falls flat onto his butt. Unlike a normal two-year-old who might fake cry for more attention he bursts into a fit of laughter identical to his father’s.
I’m lucky and not just because I married an incredible man and into an incredible family, but because he gave me the most precious baby boy in the entire world. Much like the two of us, he’s rarely unhappy. Typically, as long as he has his dog on one side and his hog on the other, he is in heaven. Again. Much like his father.
I give the muddy entourage a shake of my head. “Did you all have fun?”
“We did,” Ford says, draping his arm around the back of the seat. “Now we think it would be a great idea for mommy to put on her swimsuit so we can go swimming with our cousins and have an ice cream party at Mimi and Papi’s.”
“Swimming!” Clint squeals seconds before Blue begins licking his cheek.
We chuckle together and afterward I give Ford a suspicious look. “This ice cream party is children only, isn’t it?”
“Yeah!” Our son screams now nuzzling Princess Pinky. “No bown upts amowed!”
His answer grows a familiar gleam in Ford’s beautiful eyes. The same striking green ones he gave to our son and most likely the little girl waiting to join us in a few months. His genetics are impressively dominant. While Clint, named after his favorite cowboy star of course, has a head full of thick curly hair like me, his facial features are all Shaw as are his ceaselessly happy eyes. A little before our one-year anniversary, Ford asked me to marry him and I confessed I was probably pregnant. The entire exchange was unusual, but I’ve come to appreciate how it’s our thing. Nothing about us is conventional. Even now. Between my job downtown and his necessity to be closer to the exp
anding brewery we still managed to mix it up. We moved out of the apartment to have one more accommodating for an active tot and two pets, and more frequent visits from my parents who are thrilled to be grandparents. We still spend many nights there watching old westerns together or taking walks around the busy streets. Clint’s love of playing cowboys is equal to his love of drawing the cartoons he sees on T.V. Somehow our first born became the mesh up of us with a small spin neither of us saw coming. He has an obsession with wanting to build things. Needless to say both the apartment and the house have blocks stashed all around them. Eddie jokes he’s going to follow in his footsteps. I honestly don’t care what he wants to do as long as he ends up happy. Just like us.
“Farm Boy…” I lower my voice.
He gives my shoulder a subtle touch. “Yeah, Darlin’?”
“What are the grownups supposed to do while the kids are getting a sugar high?”
“Sugar high accompanied with more time in the yard, pizza for dinner, and a cowboy movie sleepover.”
“Bang! Bang!” Clint pretends to shoot both of the pets who to no surprise dramatically fall over.
It took many treats for both of them to learn that trick, but it’s absolutely his favorite.
“Uh-huh…”
His expression grows more devious.
“And we’re going to…”
“Well you and I are gonna make sure all computers are shut down. All cell phones are turned off and then…” He lets his gaze drop to my lips. “We’ll think of something…”
We are constantly working. The game I helped design launched spectacularly. Not only did it break their previous company records for console, but for pre-orders on the PC when I encouraged them to add an incentive of exclusive DLC. As much fun as I had, the responsibility was overwhelming and not what I wanted in the long run I realized. I’m content just drawing graphics. While I went against having my fingers in so many pies, I did take my husband and Camilla’s suggestion by trying to bring more diversity to the characters. So far, Bart and Buddy haven’t objected and sales don’t seem to loathe the change. Thankfully, they let me work from home more often than not, which allows for more time with Clint and requires him to spend less at preschool. Ford, on the other hand, struggles more often to balance working in the office and working from home. Runt’s Beer is now in state liquor stores, local bars, big and small, as well as a few chain restaurants around the country, requiring more of his presence at the brewery than it used to. With its convenient location close to the property, we do our best to accommodate him. Sometimes it’s obvious he hates the work load and hates how he can’t play all day with the two of us, but the sense of pride he receives from following his dreams and allowing his young son to see him do it eases the woe I like to believe.
The sound of trucks hitting gravel grabs all of our attention. Seeing his uncle’s vehicles pull onto the property prompts Clint to clap his hands for joy.
My eyes meet Ford’s and I can’t help but give into the predatory look.
He’s going to get his way. It doesn’t matter that I should actually take the time to catch up on work or return the emails I’ve been avoiding all day. He’s going to win because that’s what he does. He wins me over every time. It started with sharing the pig and hasn’t stopped since. Honestly? I hope it never does. Of course there’s compromise. We always make sure we’re both happy with whatever happens or with whatever gets decided, but it typically starts and ends with a Ford Shaw smile. I’ve come to realize…all the moments I love most in life usually do.
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Next book in the series:
“Must Love Jogs”, featuring Blake Shaw!
Thirty.
Single.
And apparently the most boring person on the planet.
Mable "Abby" Atkins does very little outside of rehearsing, but when a handsome, brown eyed stranger insists they get to know each other better she has a hard time resisting. However, she shouldn't be riding mechanical bulls or tagging along on his runs, and he shouldn't be captivated by her cello playing or appreciation for cappuccinos. Most importantly, they shouldn't be falling in love without even realizing it.
Is there space for fun to permanently reside or will she end up exactly where she started?
Thirty.
Single.
And the most boring woman on the planet.
Curious about J.T. Reese and Wilcox Whiskey? Check out Private today!
Private (Private Series #1):
Mogul or Monster?
Billionaire Weston Wilcox hasn't been seen by the outside world in almost a decade. No face to face meetings. No interviews. No social media accounts. Despite his ghost demeanor he continues to financially flourish and make his fellow investors richer with every decision. Throughout the years many have sought to discover the man inside the mogul while others have spread legends painting him as a heartless monster consumed by greed. None of it matters to him. Weston's true identity is secured away in his estate of solitude, which consists of the only people in the entire world he believes he can trust. That is until he's asked to allow a guest access to the property under extreme circumstances. One he knows he shouldn't. It doesn't take long before his world is turned upside down, unexpected threats arise, and Weston's forced to ask himself what really should be kept private?
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