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“What is that?” Trista asks, stopping her swaying instantly.
“I wanted to get Reggie or Millie to help me with this, but I was too afraid they’d eat the ring.”
“So you’re using our baby instead?” she deadpans, her lips parted in shock.
“Hell yes, I am.” Releasing her, I kneel beside her, taking her hand in mine as she uses her other one to hold Stevie. “You made me promise not to talk to you about marriage until after Stevie came. Well, it’s after.”
“Literally two days after,” she says with a garbled laugh.
“I’m feeling lucky.” I wink up at her and try to remember the speech I’ve been building up in my head for the past several weeks. “Trista, I read in one of my parenting books—”
“There is no way this was in one of your parenting books!”
I tilt my head and eye her sternly. “Are you going to let me finish?”
“Yes, sorry.” The teasing glint in her eyes warms me from the inside out.
“I read that one of the most important things a father can do for his child is to love its mother.”
My voice cracks at the end, and her smile falls instantly. Her chin trembles with the same emotion swelling inside my chest. I fight the urge to stand and kiss the fresh tears falling down her cheeks, but I have an important question to get out.
“I love you, Lucky. More than I even thought possible. This mountain was once my escape from the world, my quiet sanctuary to get away from my thoughts. But I love the noise you bring into my life. You turned my house into a home, and I want to continue our life up here forever…whether that be with more babies or more animals or more of both, I’m all in. I love you, past, present, and future, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
She beams through her tears as she clutches our daughter close to her cheek. “What do you think, Mountain Man?”
AnimalsontheMountain:16
FamilyMembersGoingtoMexico:10
Plus-OnesGoingtoMexico:???
“Wyatt, look at me!” I call out while trudging up the snow-worn path toward the wood-chopping station behind his house.
Our house. It’sourhouse.
My soon-to-be husband sets his ax down and turns on his heel, looking delectable with the snowy mountaintop background. Even hotter than usual with that baby monitor strapped around his chest. Stevie is currently down for a nap, and this overbearing, overprotective dad demands to take that big-screen monitor with him everywhere he goes—even though the app sends notifications to our phones.
What can I say? He’s an obsessed father.
I’ve caught him mindlessly petting Millie while watching the monitor in the barn more times than I can count, and our baby is barely two months old. I can’t imagine what he’ll be like when she’s a teenager.
Sweet or psycho? Who can tell?
Wyatt’s eyes turn to liquid pools of heat as he rakes his gaze over my body. “What am I looking at specifically because I like it all.”
My God, this man. I’m still postpartum, softer and squishier than ever, way too fat for a surrogacy agency, and he still wants me all the time.
But here’s a big truth bomb: that six-week postpartum break wasrough on me too. As it turns out, I’ve grown accustomed to regular dickin’…especially when it comes from someone who looks at me likehim.
I prop my hands on my hips and smile. “Do you hear that?”
He frowns as the sound finally hits his ears. “What is that?”
“I’m a cow!” I nearly squeal with excitement.
His face falls. “Baby, aren’t we well past the cow stage?”
I lift my shirt to showcase the breast-pumping contraption that you can barely tell is operating. “It’s completely mobile, no plug. This will be perfect for our wedding in Mexico next month!”
