It’s exactly how I felt when Aria was pregnant with Olive—that raw, urgent protectiveness. But it never goes away. The desire to protect my wife and baby just keeps getting stronger. They’re all I care about. Everything else is just noise.
“I think Olive likes the cake,” Aria says, grinning at me.
We turn to look at our daughter just as she lifts her head. Her face is smeared with a thick layer of lilac frosting.
“I think you’re right.”
Aria laughs, wiping Olive’s face and pressing a kiss on her chubby cheek.
“Happy birthday, sweetie.”
“Cake,” Olive says. She lets out a wet giggle, then returns to tearing into the birthday treat like it did something to offend her.
God, I can’t believe she’s two already.
It feels like only yesterday that we brought her home from the hospital, cradling her tiny body. Now she’s a loud, giggly toddler. Hell, I don’t think she’s stopped smiling ever since she learned how. She has her mom’s big brown eyes and a mop of dark hair, tied up in two short pigtails. My heart aches with love every time I look at her. She’s got me wrapped around her little finger, just like her mom.
I squeeze Aria’s thigh beneath the table, pressing a kiss on her cheek. She’s laughing at something Bonnie just said, and I feel her hand settle over mine.
“I have great grandchildren popping out all over the place,” Bonnie continues, reaching across the table to ruffle Olive’s hair. “It’s wonderful. Keeps me young!”
They start talking about the tavern. Aria has been working there ever since she moved to Cherry Hollow. It’s a pretty big jump from working at her dad’s real estate company for so long,but she loves it. She loves feeling like part of the community, and Bonnie’s Tavern is the best place for that.
She might have been born a city girl, but my wife’s a Cherry Hollow girl at heart.
Won’t stop me calling her princess, though.
The chatter swells. Savannah is saying something animatedly, and Clay is hanging onto every word like his life depends on it. But I don’t hear a word. All my focus is on my wife’s hand as she rubs circles on my skin with her thumb. She presses her thigh against mine, the contact making my heart race.
Fuck.
I’ll never get used to being able to call this woman mine.
“Who wants more pie?” Aria says, drawing her hand away as she stands up from the table.
Everyone says yes.
Even Olive, who isn’t eating pie, says, “More pie!”
Aria collects all the plates, then gets up. I lean across the empty space to kiss my daughter on the cheek, then follow my wife into the kitchen.
Aria stands at the counter, reaching for the box of pie. My eyes rake over her as she opens it, taking in every inch of my beautiful wife. Her body has changed since having Olive. Her curves are fuller, thicker than ever, and it drives me fucking wild. I swear she gets sexier every day.
“Let me do that, princess,” I tell her.
She turns to face me, eyes twinkling. “I got it.”
I’m already grabbing the knife. My sleeve falls back as I slice the pie, revealing the pale scar on my forearm—a stark white line against the dark ink of my tattoos. Every time I look at it, I remember Aria racing out of the cabin in nothing but my sweater. The way she hurled logs at the mountain lion as it clawed my arm.
Pretty sure that was the moment I fell in love with her.
“What’s wrong, caveman?” Aria asks teasingly when I’ve finished cutting the pie. “You think I can’t handle a knife?”
“Oh, I know damn well you can handle anything.” I close the gap between us, running a hand through her hair. “I just like taking care of you.”
“I know.” She beams at me. “And I have to say, you’re pretty amazing at it.”
Happiness swells inside me at her words. “That’s all I care about. Taking care of you and Olive.”
