Then I hear it.That ominous gobble-gobble.
I slowly turn, and there on the brick pathway, about twenty feet away, stands Reggie.Ollie must have heard him too because he steps in front of me to block me from Reggie’s beady-eyed glare.Reggie steps to the side to regain his view of me.The crowd has gone silent—even the visitors to the Village who have nothing to do with our wedding.Everyone’s stopped to watch.Some have cell phones out and are recording.Great.This is going to be on all the sites and probably end up being a meme.
Reggie fans his tail and starts bobbing and weaving in what I now know is a mating dance.Directed at me.When Reggie tries to sidestep and make a run toward me, I’m suddenly surrounded by a burly bunch of hockey players holding hockey sticks as my husband stalks toward the turkey.Reggie stops mid-strut and gives a low growl.I didn’t know turkeys could growl, but I don’t know how else to describe it.Ollie stands his ground, and in a low, grumbly tone that I recognize as his voice when he’s shifted into Bigfoot form, says, “Phoebe is my wife.Touch her and die.Go find your own mate.She’s mine.”
All the women within earshot, especially me, swoon.
Stone randomly says, “Damn.He got the romance trifecta—my wife, touch her and die, and mate.Well done, sir.”
Somehow, I’m not surprised Stone Waller reads romance.
Reggie lowers his tail, and his chest seems to deflate.If turkeys have shoulders, his are drooping in defeat.With a mournful “gobble,” he turns and waddles away.When he gives one last hopeful glance back, maybe hoping I’ve decided to leave the man of my dreams to become part of a turkey harem, Ollie gives a low rumble that has Reggie two-stepping down the path away from us.
“My hero,” I say, stretching to kiss Ollie.
He does me one better and wraps his arms around me and leans me back, fulfilling one of my romance novel fantasies I thought I’d never get because of my size.
“My wife,” he says before dropping his head to kiss me ardently while our friends and family—and even strangers—cheer.
Swoon.
EPILOGUE
Three weeks later– Ollie
Hockey season is over.While I miss being on the ice with my teammates, I don’t miss the travel.I love being at home with Phoebe and being able to do things like meet my new nephew at the hospital.
“Meet Kirby David King,” Finn says, beaming with pride as he smiles down at the blanket-wrapped bundle in his arms.
“David?”Phoebe asks.“After Daddy?”
Shelby nods and wipes a tear.Phoebe does the same, and I wrap my arm around her.Phoebe doesn’t have memories of her parents, since she was barely a year old when they died.I know that’s one of the biggest regrets in her life.Shelby is generous in sharing her memories and pictures, but she was only six, so there isn’t a lot.
“We were considering Oliver as a middle name,” Finn says, which has me swallowing back tears.“But then we realized his initials would be KOK and we weren’t saddling him with something that would be getting him called cock.”
Our laughter chases the tears away.
“Want to hold him?”Finn asks.
Phoebe nods but says, “Give him to Ollie, he knows more about babies than I do.”
I accept my nephew from Finn and sit on the sofa they have in the hospital room.Phoebe sits next to me and leans in to peer at his adorable face.Kirby has an unexpected shock of coppery red hair.Shelby says he gets it from their Irish mother.Kirby’s dark eyes and long eyelashes are from the Kings.So are the big feet.It’s possible he may not be a Bigfoot shifter when he matures, but he’s sure going to be built like one.
“Do you want to hold him?”I ask Phoebe.
She nods.“I’m scared.”
I place him in her arms and help position him so he’s properly supported.
“He’s so beautiful,” she whispers as she places a gentle kiss on his forehead.
What’s beautiful is seeing Phoebe with a baby in her arms.I can’t wait for that to be us.We’ve agreed to wait until my two-year contract with the Devil Birds is done before trying because I don’t want to travel once we have a family.It was hard enough going to Vegas for the Dickinson Cup Finals and leaving her behind.No way could I leave my kids too.Once I’m done with professional hockey, then we’ll focus on starting a family.
“Have you been by to see Daphne?”Shelby asks us.
Somehow, they managed to give birth the same day.I hope the maternity ward of Shifting Pines General is ready to be overrun by hulking hockey players bearing teddy bears.
“Not yet,” Phoebe says.“Meeting our nephew takes priority.”
