Jaxon wraps me up in a hug from behind. “That was way more than four pieces of candy.”
“At least I didn’t have to pay the piper.”
At the end of the night, when the candy bowl is empty and my heart is full, I sink onto the porch steps. Lexi waves as she follows her mom to the car, and I watch them go, feeling whole for the first time in my life.
Jaxon joins me like he always does. I rest my head on his shoulder and sigh.
“So, this is what it’s supposed to feel like.”
“What’s that?”
“Family.”
Chapter 39
Love Story
? The Story - Brandi Carlisle
Seven months later
Jaxon
Jaxon: How do I look?
Griff: If the goal is to look like you’re on a quest to destroy a ring of suspicious ancestry, you nailed it.
I scrub my hand down my beard as Callie steps out onto the porch of our rental house in the mountains. She’s wearing a green gown with a floral corset on top, and her long, dark hair cascades over her shoulders in soft waves, with two elf ears peeking out between the strands. A jeweled crown rests on top of her head and drapes down, framing either side of her face. She’s never been more stunning. I’m the lucky bastard who gets to call her mine.
I fidget with the ring box in my pocket as she descends therickety stairs. My nerves are working on overdrive with each second that passes. I hold out my hand as she takes the last step.
“M’lady. Your loyal steed awaits.”
“Don’t tell me you actually saddled up a white horse this time,” she says.
“I’m afraid not. It’s just me, you, and Reba.”
“She works two jobs, Jax. Give her a break.”
I bark out a laugh. “Come on, Princess. Let’s get you to the ren faire.”
Multicolored flags are draped between the buildings and trees, hanging high above the crowd milling about the fairgrounds below. The costumes are incredible, from simple peasant dresses to full knight-in-shining-armor garb. It smells like a combination of roasted chicken and sweet treats as we meander between the booths. There must be hundreds of artisans here, selling everything from period-accurate chain mail to pottery, jewelry, and so much more.
Callie gravitates to a booth selling bound books in authentic leather with embossed covers and ribbon bookmarks. She’s instantly enamored, and we spend half an hour browsing through the many titles. She buys me a copy of The Hobbit with a green leather cover and gold embossing.
After, I lead the way toward the food area with a single-minded focus. Callie has no idea yet, but the Pickle Peddler is here. He’s famous for his dramatic flair when selling pickles at Renaissance fairs around the country. There’s a decent line growing around his booth, so it takes Callie a second to register what’s happening.
When several of the patrons depart with their pickles, Callie gasps. “No way! Did you know?”
I give her a wry grin. “Of course I did. Only the best for my girl.”
She squeals and throws herself at me.
“I’m starting to think you’re just using me to get your pickle fix,” I tease her. “Come on. We should get in line.”
I interlock our fingers and tug her to the back of the line. Each pickle gets a full production, so it takes a while before we make it to the front.
“Welcome!” The Pickle Peddler says. “Are ye here on a special quest?”
