“Good God, you’re a chauvinist,” she said, but she said it smiling. “But I guess I’m stuck with you forever. Come on, Rufus.” She grabbed his hand and led him down the driveway. Now that that was settled she could really go for some ice cream.
“Damn right. Even after I die I’ll haunt this place just so no other bloke will come sniffing around you.”
“That’s creepy. I think you should get my name tattooed on your chest.”
“That’s negotiable. I’ll do it if you get my name on your behind.”
“I’m giving birth to your child! That should be enough.”
He pulled her to a stop and gathered her in his arms. “It is.” He set his lips on hers and didn’t let them up for a long long time. “How about I get our son’s name instead? In fact, I’ll get all of our kids.”
“All?” She looked up at him.
“Didn’t I tell you? I want ten kids.”
“Oh fat frickin’ chance!”
“Lass, why do you think I married such a young girl?”
“Because you love me?”
“Aye. Because I do.”
EPILOGUE
8 years later
Colin held his baby close to his chest as he made his way upstairs. Cherri was home now. He had been so busy tending to the little one that he hadn’t heard her come in from the doctor’s office. He worried about her. Normally Charlotte was healthy as a horse, but she hadn’t been feeling well for the past two weeks. He needed to see what was wrong.
“Daddy!” Cassidy, their four-year-old, came tearing down the hallway as soon as his foot hit the top stair. “Mommy’s in there. She says we need to be quiet so she can get some rest.”
“I’m sure she did,” he said to his yelling child. “Why don’t you find Joseph and go play with him? We don’t want to bother your mum.”
Cass shook her head. “He’s painting. He don’t want me to bother him when he paints. Can I help Grandpop in the shop? I like the shop. I wish you would let me use the saw.”
“I know you do, baby girl, but that ain’t going to happen anytime soon.” He grinned down at his daughter. She looked exactly like him and had more energy than five boys combined. She loved the shop. She loved to watch him put things back together. Every time he saw her trying to figure out how something worked he swelled with pride.
Joseph Michael, named after her grandfather and his, took more after his mother. He was a quiet boy who loved to draw and paint. He was kind to his little sisters and while most men might have wished for a son who was sports-mad, he was glad Joey was who he was. He couldn’t have asked for a nicer boy.
“Is Yuli still fussing?” Cassidy stood on her tiptoes trying to peek at the baby. “Mommy said she was gassy this morning. If she toots she’ll feel better.”
“I bet she will. Come here and give your father a kiss.” He bent down, giving her a loud smacking kiss on the forehead. “Now go find your grandpop. I think I saw him on the deck. I’m going to put your sister down for a nap and check on your mum.”
“I want to go check on Mommy, too.”
“Later. Go do as I say and I might let you help me sand the rowboat we just got in.”
She was off to find her grandfather before he could say another word.
“Ah, silence,” he sighed. “Now let’s put you down, little one.” Yuliana O’Connell was going to be a heartbreaker. At nine months old she was beautiful with big round green eyes and dark brown hair. He was already dreading her teenage years.
Three kids and eight years of marriage later and Colin had never dreamed he could have a life like this. Stone Barley Restorations was busier than ever. So much so that they’d had to hire two other workers just to keep up with demand. Colin’s little shop wasn’t big enough to do the scale of work they needed to, so they had recently started construction on a bigger building that would be located in the formerly wooded area behind the house.
He and his pop were getting along better than ever. He was amazing with his grandchildren and produced some of the best work that had ever come out of the shop. His pop had seemed to mellow in the past few years. There were no more strings of women. No more broken hearts or tales of woe. He had been seeing a nice lady for the past six months and he had lived with them for over seven years now. It was the longest his father had stayed in one place.
After making sure his daughter was safely in her crib he finally made his way to his wife. She was lying on her side, her arm draped over her forehead, one hand resting on her belly.
“Charlotte, my love.” He climbed into bed beside her. “How are you feeling?”
She didn’t bother opening her eyes; instead she looped her arms around him and pulled him close. “I’m feeling slightly murderous.”
“What?”
He stared at her. She might not be feeling well, but she had only grown more beautiful in the past eight years. She was no longer a girl, but she was still his lass and a successful artist, pulling in more money for one of her hand-painted pieces of furniture than he sometimes made in six months. He was so damn proud of her. Her work had recently been featured on a design show and she now had a three-year waiting list for one of her pieces. She was a wonderful mother, too, giving more to their children than he even thought was possible. He remembered how they had started out, their marriage so shaky in the early days that he’d wondered if they were going to make it. She had been afraid that she would never get to live a life of her own. He sometimes wondered: If she had to do it all over again, would she have chosen this path? But then she would smile at him or kiss one of their kids and those thoughts would vanish.
“Who do you want to kill, love?”
“You. You knocked me up again.”
“Again?” His eyes widened. “Already?” He was a little surprised but not shocked. He couldn’t keep his hands off her, and after seeing her go through this three times before he should have seen the signs.
“Actually, you knocked me up two months ago. I married a very virile man.” She smiled at him and then pulled him into a kiss. “This is the last time I’m going to be pregnant. I get fat as a house every time you knock me up.”
“I kind of like it.” He ran his hand over her hip and down her backside. “Why do you think I keep getting you pregnant?”
She opened her eyes and finally looked at him. “I have no regrets, you know. Even though our life is sometimes nutty and we can never seem to plan things out, I love this life. I love the way we are. I’m happy. I want you to know that. I wouldn’t change a single thing.”
“I know, love. You don’t have to tell me.”
“I do, because we aren’t just going to have one baby this time. The doctor thinks there might be more than one. I think we’re going to be the parents of twins.”
He sat up. “I’ve got to call the contractor.”
“What?” She sat up, reaching for him. “Where are you going?”
“We’re going to need a bigger house. Where are we going to put two more babies? Do you think they can manage to put an addition on to the house in seven months?”
“Hey, Irish.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him back down on the bed. “Calm down. We have time to figure this out. Can’t we just enjoy the peace and quiet for a few minutes before the kids come barging in?”
“Good point.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Think we could talk Pop into babysitting for a couple of days so I can take you away? With two more kids, we might never be alone again.”
“We shouldn’t even ask. Let’s just leave and call him from the road.”
“Good idea, lass.” He grinned down at her for a moment just before he pressed his lips to hers.
“Colin?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you happy about this? We’re going to have five kids.”
“Of course I’m not happy about this. I won’t be happy until we have ten.”
She giggled. “Over my dead body, O’Connell.”
“I
love you, Cherri,” he said seriously. “Five kids. No kids. I’m just happy you’re my wife.”
“That’s the reason why I keep getting pregnant.” She gave him a mischievous smile. “Lock the door.”
“Really?”
He was on his feet and back before she could answer. But instead of climbing into the bed with her he stopped and gazed at her. She had a tiny smile on her face, her hair was loose around her shoulders, and even though they had been together numerous times over the past years he still felt like every time was as good as their first.
“What?” She looked up at him, her eyes going wide.
“Nothing. You’re just beautiful.”
Her smiled widened. “Okay, Irish. We can have ten kids. You just better make sure you keep the compliments coming when I can no longer fit through the door.”
“Deal.”
He slid into bed beside his wife wrapping her in his arms, savoring the way her body automatically molded to his. It was times like these, when he was so happy, so at peace with his life, that he felt like kicking himself. Eight years ago he had come up with so many reasons why he couldn’t be with her—she was too young, he was too damaged—that he’d almost missed the reason why they should be together. They were just right for each other. They were a perfect fit.
DON’T MISS THE FIRST NOVEL IN SUGAR JAMISON’S PERFECT FIT SERIES
Dangerous Curves Ahead
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PRAISE FOR SUGAR JAMISON’S
DANGEROUS CURVES AHEAD
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sugar Jamison is a Southern belle trapped in a New Yorker’s body. With a love of big hair and high-heeled shoes, she spends her days at her very normal day job and her nights dreaming up sweet and sassy romances. Visit her on the Web at www.sugarjamison.com.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THROWN FOR A CURVE
Copyright © 2014 by Sugar Jamison.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
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eISBN: 9781466826298
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / March 2014
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
Thrown for a Curve Page 30
