Her mouth dropped open. “Really?”
“Really. Go ask my mom if you don’t believe me.”
Lilia sprang from the couch and took three steps across the room before turning back. She hurried to Dawson and enveloped him in a sisterly hug, mindful of the baby between them. “Thank you.”
His throat tightened, making it hard to talk. “It’s nothing.”
Lilia practically skipped from the room, and the sound of excited voices spilled from the kitchen. Dawson smiled, envisioning his mom in tears. She’d been heartbroken at the idea of Grace and Lilia moving away. His entire family had grown quite attached to them.
Peyton stared at Dawson incredulously from her place on the couch. Then she laughed lightly and shook her head. “I shouldn’t be surprised, and yet, somehow, you always outdo yourself. Just when I think I can't love you more, you prove me wrong.”
She leaned forward and captured his mouth with hers. Dawson took her face in his hands, losing himself in the world only they knew. It was sweet and passionate. Tender and reverent. He tasted forever on her lips. His heart thundered, and when they parted, he was breathless. “I have to admit, inviting Lilia to stay was selfish on my part.”
Peyton nestled herself into the curve of his arm. “How so?”
“Well, for starters, I didn’t want to listen to my mom complain and carry on about missing Grace. This way, she can babysit while Lilia is taking her GED classes. Win-win in my book.”
“Right. Makes sense.” Peyton chuckled against his chest.
“I was also hoping that having Lilia here on the ranch would tempt you into visiting more often.” Dawson felt her still. He rubbed a hand down her back. “I know you have to go back to Dallas soon, but the cottage is yours whenever you want it. And the drive isn't so bad on weekends. I’ll come see you too.”
Peyton pulled back to look at him. That smile again, the one he knew well. It meant she was five steps ahead of him. “What if I told you I don't need a weekend cottage?”
His brow crinkled. “What do you mean?”
“I put in for a transfer to the Austin division, and it was accepted today. I was going to tell you about it after the party.” Her smile widened as a touch of mischievousness glinted in her gorgeous hazel eyes. “That is…if you’re okay with it? I mean, I could go back to Dallas and?—”
“No!” He put a finger to her lips to stop her from finishing her sentence. “I am more than okay with it. The cottage is yours.”
Her expression softened. “A second chance. For all of us.”
“Yes.” He trailed a finger across her chin and over her jaw, feeling like the luckiest man in the world. “I love you, Peyton.”
“I love you too.”
From the kitchen, laughter erupted—Ellen's bright and warm, Lilia's lighter, Garcia's deep rumble underneath. Grace fussed somewhere in the middle of it all. The sound of family. Messy, imperfect, and exactly right. Peyton kissed Dawson’s cheek and then got up from the couch before extending her hand to him. “Come on. Let’s get some peach cobbler for ourselves before everyone else eats it all.”
He slipped his hand into hers and stood. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” The sound of car doors slamming outside caught his attention. His eyes widened when he spotted his brother. “Quick! Marcus and the minions are here. We have to hurry.”
Peyton's laughter echoed through the house as he pulled her toward the kitchen, and it was, Dawson decided, the most beautiful sound in the world.
TWENTY-SIX
The Graham family had gone all out. Strings of lights crisscrossed the back porch and extended to the barn, casting a warm glow over the long tables laden with food and the clusters of people scattered across the yard. Country music drifted from a speaker someone had propped on the porch railing. Kids chased each other between the legs of adults, their shrieks punctuating the laughter and conversation. In the distance, the sun was slowly setting.
Detective Liam Miller wove through the party, saying his goodbyes. Dawson stopped him by the dessert table. “No, man, you can’t go yet. We’ve got games planned, and we need smart people on our trivia team.”
Peyton shifted Dawson’s nephew, Oliver, on her hip and laughed. “At least three other people have told us they want you on their team, and Dawson lied and said you’d already agreed to be on ours.”
“I did not lie.” Dawson scowled. “I merely created my team in my head and now I’m sharing it with everyone.”
Liam chuckled. “Sorry, guys, I gotta bail. Next time. But thanks for the party. It was great. Y’all went all out.”
“It’s the least we could do.” Dawson took the wriggly Oliver from Peyton and then wrapped an arm around her waist. She leaned into the touch. “It’s not every day we can say we took down a criminal organization and put killers behind bars. The good guys won this time. We should celebrate that.”
He agreed. Liam knew firsthand what it was like to be haunted by a case. To never get closure, never capture the killer.
That thought weighed heavily on his mind when he reached Chief Garcia. His boss was elbow-deep in barbecue ribs, looking more relaxed than Liam had seen him in weeks. He hated to ruin it, but there was something that needed to be addressed. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but I’m heading out. Before I go, I wanted to discuss the email you sent me. About the true-crime podcaster who wants to do a feature on the Sarah Vance murder.”
