“Yeah?”
She nods against me. “And I don’t want to be an old mom. I want to have them when I still have energy left in me.”
“Well, what do you say we throw away those pills you’ve been taking?”
She’s quiet for a moment. “I want to. Heck, I would have ditched them the moment you took me home from the gas station if you’d asked me.”
“That settles it—they’re gone.”
A content sigh escapes her throat, and she presses a slow, lingering kiss on my collarbone.
I tighten my arms around her, imagining tiny feet running across these floors, laughter echoing off the cabin walls. “We’re going to need to build an addition on the cabin.”
“Let’s make it real soon, Kell.” She enthuses. “Maybe we’ll give Rus a heart attack while we’re at it.”
I chuckle the word, “Tomorrow,” before relaxing and drifting off into a deep sleep full of dreams that feel more like a future than fantasy.
EPILOGUE
GREER
One Year Later
“Just a few more snips, Mr. Doodle,” I tell the Golden Retriever as I clip his backside.
Months ago, when I took him on as a client, he was terrified of the clippers. But with positive reinforcement by way of treats and scratches, he now takes his grooming like a pro.
“See, that wasn’t so bad.”
I put him on a leash and bring him out into the waiting room, where his mom, Lisa, is waiting.
Lisa squats and gives Mr. Doodle some loving scratches. “How’d he do?”
“I wish every pup was as well-mannered as Mr. Doodle.”
“Well, there’s no better groomer than Mrs. Greer Blackwood.” Lisa winks. “Congratulations, by the way. I heard the ceremony was beautiful.”
I take a long breath and allow myself to relive the magical feelings, if only for a moment. “Thank you. It was small and simple, yet it still feels like it was all a fantasy.”
Lisa smiles. “That’s just how true love is.”
After I see her out, I find Kellan leaning against the half-wall that separates the reception desk from the grooming floor, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in that quietly amused way he’s perfected over the past twelve months.
It’s hard not to gawk at his perfect, tense muscles that stretch the sleeves of his shirt, and I know that once I start undressing him with my eyes, my brain will turn to jelly, so I avert my gaze back to my clipboard.
“You’re spoiling that dog worse than his actual mother does,” he says.
“I’m rewarding good behavior. There’s a difference.”
“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” He turns, heading back into the exam room where a cat named Mittens is recovering from surgery.
I head back to the grooming room and start sweeping the loose fur into a pile—gold, cream, a few rogue white hairs from the Bichon that was here earlier.
Kellan comes in, plucks the broom from my hand, and sets it against the counter.
“Hey, I have a husky coming in at noon I need to prepare for.”
Kell smiles, head tilting to the side, and brushes the pad of his thumb across my nose. “You’ve got fur on your nose again.”
