The oven timer beeped again. “I quit my job,” she said.
Confusion skittered over his features. “Kaci said you got—” He stopped. His jaw went slack. “Son of a biscuit. She got me good.”
Her breath hitched. If he couldn’t play hero, did he still want her?
A familiar old grin flashed. “We’ll find you a new one. A better one. Whatever you want to do, we’ll make it work for you. Just don’t go.” He engulfed her in a full body hug, stroking her arms, her back, rubbing his jaw in her hair. “Don’t leave me, Anna Grace. You and me, we’re just getting started. Thirty years from now, I want to be rocking on our front porch with you, watching our grandbabies, smelling that fancy shampoo you like to use, laughing and talking and loving you.”
“Grandbabies?”
“Babies and grandbabies and great grandbabies. And I’ll buy you enough label makers that you can stamp labels on every single one of them.”
Oh.
Oh, yes.
He was worth every painful moment of this year. Every moment of her first time as an Air Force wife.
Every moment of her life.
“You need to stop talking,” she said, “before you make me burn your biscuits.”
His eyebrows knit together. He sniffed the air. “Biscuits?”
She smoothed a hand over his blouse, then flicked open the top button. “I wouldn’t have left without offering you my biscuits.”
His delicious chuckle sent a shiver through her bones. “Thought you figured out I’m a pie man.”
His fingers went to work doing wicked things to the back of her neck. He was solid and safe and more dependable than she’d known she could possibly want. She didn’t care that the biscuits were burning, because he had five more buttons that needed undoing, plus the rest of his uniform to get through.
She pulled back to look into those wonderful, crinkled cobalt eyes while still working at his buttons. “I love you.”
“I love you. Pies and burnt biscuits and label maker and all.”
“You love my label maker?” Her voice cracked.
“You bet your biscuits.”
She grabbedhisbiscuits and gave them a squeeze.
Still solid and perfect as ever.
So was his mouth when he kissed her.
Slow and thorough and perfect.
The man didn’t just love her. He loved her good. She wrapped herself around him and kissed him and loved him back until they fell against the wall for support.
“Been thinking,” he said into her neck, “we could find you a job with that label maker.”
She knew. She’d been researching professional organizing while she baked, and already had a color-coded binder started. Best part was, it was a mobile career. It’d take a while to build up her reputation, to draw a regular, decent salary, but she didn’t plan on doing it alone. “Have I mentioned I love you?”
His eyes went soft and smoky. “I love your independence.”
“I love how you take care of me.”
His arms tightened. “I mean it, Anna Grace. If anything ever happened to me, I know you’re gonna be able to take care of things.”
The oven timer beeped again. “I need to take care of your biscuits.”
