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I slip my hand in his. “Being with you, I’m already there.”
Epilogue
Tempest
* * *
A little over a year has passed and every day that I spend with Maverick, I fall deeper in love with him.
It’s not because of the sweet, romantic things he does though he does plenty of those. It’s because like he promised, he’s a man who can be counted on.
I’m humming as I put the lettuce back into the refrigerator. I came home to make myself lunch to take back with me to the pool hall where I’m working until I figure out what I want to do with my life.
I thought I had to have all the answers but now I know that I don’t. I can just be me. And that’s a gift that Maverick gave me.
When I reach for the insulated lunch bag, something crinkles. I peer into it to find a note. That’s something else my cowboy does. He leaves me notes all the time. He mails love letters to me.
I unfold the note.
Dear Tempest/Sunflower/Most Beautiful Wife in the World,
Your aunt says to take the day off and spend it with me. I’m waiting in my truck. I’ve got the picnic. You bring your sexy ass.
Yours Truly, Cowboy. Husband. Man Who’s Crazy About You.
I tuck the note in my pocket and step outside onto the porch. He’s waiting in the truck wearing a come-and-get-me smile.
Shaking my head, I grab my shoes and shut the front door behind me. After I reach the truck, he gets out and comes around to my side.
I tap the back panel. “This truck bed seems vaguely familiar.”
“That’s because it’s where you screamed your throat raw to the sky when my beard and I had you.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Maverick,” I scold.
“No one is listening to me remind my wife of how well I do her.”
“You’re a bad boy,” I say.
“I can’t be bad if I’m this good,” he teases.
I can’t win in a conversation like this because he’s telling the truth and my body likes…a wave of dizziness hits me. The ground tilts and my vision tunnels. I catch a glimpse of Maverick’s fearful expression before it’s lights out.
When I come to, I’m in the front seat of the truck and Maverick is driving like a bat out of hell into town. He’s not looking at me, but I hear him saying, “Please, please. Don’t let this be anything serious. Please, I’ll do anything.”
I touch his arm and he looks at me, his face pale. “It’s okay, honey. We’re almost at the doctor.”
“I’m fine,” I say but my voice sounds weak. The world is still spinning. “I skipped breakfast and only ate a light supper last night. I’m probably just hungry.”
He has one hand on mine and the other griping the steering wheel.
“Honey, just stop and get me something to eat.”
“After you get checked,” he insists and parks crooked in a space at the doctor’s office.
I’m still protesting as he ushers me from the truck and inside.
As soon as we enter the waiting room, we’re taken straight back to a room. A nurse checks my glucose level then directs me to the bathroom where Maverick paces outside the door.
