“So, what were you trying to say about selling your house?” I say, prompting him.

  He laughs. “I was saying that once this place is finished, and once we’ve had some time to get the girls used to us being together, that if you’re open to the idea, we could…be here. With you. Together.”

  “What about your pole barn?” I ask. “All your tools and workout equipment and all that.” I gesture at my backyard—which, while sizable, is in no way going to accommodate all that. “It’s not happening out there—sorry, babe, but that pole barn of yours is bigger than my whole yard.”

  He shrugs. “I dunno. I’ve been running the company out of my garage up till now. But I was thinking of expanding, taking on a few more guys so Jess, Ryder, and Franco have time to pursue their own projects here and there. And to expand I’d need a separate facility for a fleet of trucks, a warehouse for tools and building materials. I kind of want to focus more on new builds, which would mean a couple different crews. I’ve taken a look at a few possible industrial properties that may work. Point is, all that shit would go there.”

  I plant my palms on his shoulders. “I like this plan.” I frown. “I wonder if you may need to do that addition Franco mentioned. Another bedroom or two, another bathroom, bigger garage…a pool.”

  “You do, huh?” His eyes follow the pendulous swaying of my breasts, and I know the conversation is close to over. “You wouldn’t mind me and the girls moving in with you?”

  I shake my head, nuzzle my nose against his. “No, James. Not only would I not mind it, I can’t think of anything that would make me happier.” I sigh, and feather my lips against his.

  James cups a breast, palms my buttock. “No? Nothing?”

  I reach down between my thighs, and find him waiting for me, hard and thick and hot and incredible—and incredibly mine. I stroke him slowly—more of a sweet caress than a greedy clutch.

  “Actually…” I writhe against him, sliding his thickness between the damp lips of my core. “I can think of one thing.”

  He reaches out, rips open a condom—I take it from him and take my time rolling it on, making a pleasurable game of it, making it take as long as I possibly can. Once it’s on, rolled to the root, I nestle the very tip of him inside me and writhe my hips in a slow, teasing undulation.

  He groans, moves, and tries to thrust. I take his hands and tangle our fingers, pressing his palms to the pillow over his head.

  I continue teasing him with quick, shallow movements. “Want it?” I whisper.

  “Fuck, Nova—yes! I want it. I need it.”

  I crash my mouth against his and kiss him with all the need inside me, while continuing the teasing roll of my hips.

  He snarls like the grizzly bear he resembles, and breaks my grip, sits upright, and slams up into me. I laugh even as I cry out, snaking my arms around his neck and clinging to him, thrashing up and down on him—taking all of him, hard and fast. He’s feral, then—primal. All mad passion, taking me with everything he is, everything he has.

  He wraps my long red hair around a fist and pulls me closer, kissing me while his other arm curls around my waist to clutch my opposite hip. He bites my lower lip and moans; I cling to his neck and shoulders and let my voice ring out. He grips my ass and parts me to drive deeper, and deeper, and I feel myself clenching, spasming around him as he thrusts into me, kissing me and tugging me wider.

  I bury my face in his neck, whimpering through my climax, and the moment I begin to orgasm, he cries out pushing deep, groaning, snarling.

  And every sound I make, then, is his name…every sigh, every grunt, every snarl from his lips is mine.

  He presses our foreheads together. “Look at me,” he murmurs; my eyes snap open. “I love you, Nova. I love you—I love you, I love you...” This, to the rhythm of our joining.

  I find the rhythm, match it, echoing him, responding: “Love you—I love you—god, James, James—I love you!”

  When neither of us has anything left, no breath in our lungs, no climax left in our bodies, we flop back on the bed, me on top of him again, and this time I’m cradled in his arms, heedless of the mess going cold and sticky against my thigh, content to breathe him, hold him, be held by him, to feel his breath on my hair and his arms around me and his hands roaming my skin as if he just can’t get enough of touching all of me.

  “Can we just do this forever?” I whisper.

  He rumbles a laugh. “We may have to leave the house eventually.”

  “Nah. There’s delivery. All we need is food and condoms, and the occasional nap.”

  James sighs happily, contentedly. “I guess you’re right.”

  I nuzzle against his beard. “At the very least, we can stay up all night fucking like we’re sixteen again.”

  He rumbles, somewhere between aroused and amused. “Keeping up with you is gonna be fun, isn’t it?”

  I pat his chest. “You can try. You’ve awakened a very needy creature inside me, James. I hope you’ve got your A game ready.”

  “More than ready. Bring it, babe.” He slaps my butt. “Got anything to eat? Or should I call the aforementioned delivery?”

  I wriggle. “I’ve got something for you to eat, all right.”

  He grumbles a laugh. “You really are insatiable, aren’t you?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m sure as hell looking forward to finding out.”

  “So am I,” I whisper, as he begins to do dirty and thrilling things to me. “So am I.”

  * * *

  THE END

  Epilogue

  Three years later

  I’m sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch of Ryder and Laurel’s farmhouse. On my lap is little Renée Audra—she’s three years old, sassy, too smart for her own good, rambunctious, a brown-haired, brown-eyed beauty with the most infectious laugh in the world. Right now, however, she’s sleepy. Not quite asleep, but close. It’s almost six in the evening, and it’s been a full day; she usually takes a nap around eleven or noon, but today she didn’t get one, being too busy helping me, her auntie Nova, get ready.

  I married James today. Here, in Ryder and Laurel’s front yard. Nina, thirteen, and Ella, ten and a half, were bridesmaids, along with Laurel and Audra, of course. Imogen was my maid of honor, and Renée was the flower girl—a duty she took with such seriousness it became comical.

  Renée has a younger brother: JJ—for Jesse James, but no one has ever called him that since the day he was born, two years ago. JJ was another surprise for Jesse and Imogen, and arrived after an all-too-easy pregnancy and complication-free birth. At two, he’s a hellion of the highest order, a troublemaking, back-talking, mischievous, manically energetic little boy with a curiosity and compulsion to tinker that’s bound to get him in as much trouble as it does bring him success—he’s a spitting image of Jesse, with shaggy, curly brown hair and expressive brown eyes that he can use at will to charm just about anyone out of just about anything. Currently, he’s trying to ride Ryder and Laurel’s Great Pyrenees, Goblin, who is patiently allowing JJ to climb all over her without so much as an irritated look.

  Helping JJ in his quest to ride the dog is Colin, Audra and Franco’s son—also two years old. Adopted by Audra and Franco at birth, Colin is black, with an untamable explosion of thick, tightly curled hair that Audra refuses to cut; he’s the quietest of the bunch, but just as much of a troublemaker—he’s actually the ringleader, he just isn’t loud about it. Audra was unable to conceive, and after almost a year of trying, she and Franco decided to adopt rather than pursue fertility treatments or in vitro; it took a few months of searching and a few months more of background checks and home studies, but exactly two years ago today, as a matter of fact, a young woman gave birth in a downtown Chicago hospital, kissed her baby once on the cheek, and then, tearfully, handed him to Audra. The young woman, Maeve, was seventeen at the time, and struggling to finish high school; now, she’s about to graduate from a community college with an associate’s degree in liberal arts, and plans to transfer to Northwestern to pursue journalism; Colin’s adoption was open, and she makes the trip to the suburbs once a month to play at the park with Colin and visit with Audra and Franco, who have, unofficially, somewhat adopted her as well. They’ve helped her with college tuition, helped her find scholarships and grants, and often make surprise visits to Chicago to bring her food and clean laundry.

  Laurel and Ryder are in rocking chairs beside me; Laurel is breastfeeding her six-month-old girl, Natalie, who was yet another unexpected but welcome surprise—apparently James and I are the only ones in the group who know how birth control works. James actually got a vasectomy last year, as we, after months of discussion, decided more children weren’t in our future. My maternal instincts are totally fulfilled by being a stepmother to Nina and Ella. They both called me Nova up until last year, and then, abruptly, Ella started calling me Mom, which made me cry tears of happiness and sent James out to the garage to hide his own emotional reaction—we all followed him, though, and surrounded him with girly hugs and refused to let him get away with his macho “I’m not crying, I just have dust in my eye” routine. Once Ella started, Nina wasn’t far behind; she resisted for about two weeks, and then “slipped,” as she put it. She remembered her mother more than Ella, and it was much harder for her to make the transition to seeing me as Mom, and not just Dad’s girlfriend, but once Ella started calling me Mom, it was easier for Nina to get on board.

  “Auntie Nova?” Renée murmurs, her head against my chest.

  “Yeah, pumpkin?”

  “I’m not sleepy.”

  I laugh. “Okay, sure—whatever you say, honey.”

  “I’m not!” She’s fading, even as she protests. “I’m just watching a movie in my head.”

  I laugh again. “Not sure what that means, but okay.”

  “Can I have more cake?”

  “Maybe later. You’ll have to ask your mom and dad. I think, for now, you should just let me cuddle you. Keep watching that movie in your head.”

  “Are you and Unc’a Jamie gonna have a baby now that you’re married?”

  I shake my head. “No, pumpkin. We’re not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Just…because.”

  “Because it’s too complicated to explain to little kids?”

  I laugh at that. “Pretty much, honey.” I scratch her back with my fingernails. “Just rest, Renée.”

  “Fine. But I’m not sleepy.”

  “I believe you,” I murmur.

  And then, just like that, she’s out.

  James clomps loudly up the steps at that moment. “Where’s my little bugaboo?” he growls playfully.

  I shush him, widening my eyes and glancing significantly down at the sleeping bundle on my lap.

  James makes an “oops” face, and kneels quietly at my side. “Oh, sorry.”

  Renée doesn’t stir, but she mumbles sleepily, “Hush, Unc’a Jamie. I’m resting.”

  James laughs, kissing her on the temple. “Sorry, pumpkin. Keep resting.”

  I shake my head at him and he winces, before settling on his butt on the porch. Together, we watch JJ and Colin in their tireless quest to get Goblin to let them ride her; Nate is on the tire swing not far away, watching them with amusement.

  Nina comes out of the house at that moment, letting the screen door slam with a loud bang that startles Natalie, who snuffles at Laurel’s breast, whimpers, and then goes back to nursing.

  “Mom?” She gestures with her cell phone. “Josh is being a jerk.”

  I eye her over Renée’s head. “Ignore him.”

  “He wants me to come over, but I said I couldn’t because I have a family thing going on today. I was gonna tell him you and Dad were getting married, but then I’d have to explain things and that’s just annoying, so I didn’t. He keeps texting me about coming over to do homework with him, even though I know all he’s doing is playing that dumb video game of his. He just wants me to do his math for him.”

  Josh is her best friend—or, as we call him, her “friend-boy” because they’ve “liked” each other since fifth grade and are already making plans for announcing that they’re officially dating—which James has decreed won’t be allowed until they’re at least fifteen. Until then, they can like each other all they want, have all the feelings they want, but they’re not allowed to date, to say they’re dating, to refer to each other as boyfriend/girlfriend, or anything of the sort, because, as James says—there’s no such thing as being in love in middle school.

  It is cute, though, how they are with each other. They text and talk all the time, and when they can’t hang out at our house or Josh’s, they’re FaceTiming and helping each other with homework…which usually means Nina doing most of Josh’s for him, because while he’s plenty smart, he’s a little lazy with the schoolwork, and Nina is an overachiever with a little mama instinct a mile wide and a mile deep, and will do it for him if he procrastinates long enough. In turn, though, he carries her backpack for her in the hallways, helps her with her chores around the house, and helps her study in the one subject she’s hopeless in—social studies.

  Ella finds the whole thing amusing and gross at the same time, and gets a ridiculous amount of amusement out of tagging along with them just to annoy Nina, even though Josh thinks of Ella as his own little sister and doesn’t mind when she tags along on their teenage adventures.

  Dad Bod Construction became Dad Bod Homes a year and a half ago—Franco, Ryder, and Jesse each bought a full quarter share of a new company the four of them now own, building custom homes together. James is the architect and project manager, Jesse is in charge of framing, Ryder handles the electrical installation and oversees the plumbing as well, Franco does the interior finishes, and each of them has their own crew under them. The business is a booming success—James’s designs are cozy, open, and attractive, and with Jesse handling the interior design—along with Imogen and Laurel, who now both work for the company in various capacities—the waitlist for a Dad Bod house is over eighteen months. They are able to construct the homes in short order as well, since James and Jesse work together to break ground and start construction on a new home while Franco and Ryder work on finishing the previous one, and then Jesse circles back to put on the finishing touches while Ryder and Franco start on the next one.

  I went back to school during these past three years, got my MD, and I’m now in the process of completing my residency at the hospital here in town. I plan on continuing my education, specializing in neuroscience—my time as head assistant to the lead neurologist piqued my interest in the subject and, in a couple more years, I’ll be a licensed neurologist myself.

  James takes my hand and squeezes it; I don’t have to even look at him to know what he’s thinking: the girls love nothing more than to be allowed to stay over here and help Laurel with the baby—and by help, I mean spoil rotten. Laurel loves having them over, because Nate, as loving as he is as an older brother, is a clueless teenager when it comes to caring for a baby, so having girls around who want to change diapers and make bottles and rock and play means she gets to have a little breather and enjoy some semi-free baby downtime.

  Which means, with the girls staying here tonight, we’ll have the house to ourselves; we all live in my house, and have for a couple of years now, since the remodel was completed. That took a bit longer than expected, because we expanded pretty significantly, adding two bedrooms and another full Jack-and-Jill bathroom, enlarging the garage by more than double, with a den/home office for James above it, and an in-ground pool out back. My house is in the same school district as they’d been in, so it was an easy transition for them, and we all started feeling like a family right away.

  Although, James and I had to learn to be sneaky about our sexual escapades.

  “I was thinking we could watch that movie about the cowgirl,” James says, emphasizing the word.

  I chuckle. “Isn’t that the one where the roles get reversed?” I say.

  This is a little game we play; we plan out which positions we want to have sex in later, but doing so in conversation around other people. Our little exchange just now means he wants cowgirl, and I added to make it reverse cowgirl.

  James doesn’t answer, but the way he shifts tells me he’s already imagining it.

  Ryder snorts. “You two are not subtle, you know that?”

  James glances at him. “What do you mean?”

  Ryder gestures at us. “You two, and your cute little coded conversations. Do you really think none of us have ever cottoned on to what you’re doing?”

  “I don’t have a single clue what you mean, Ryder,” James says.

  Ryder cackles. “Right. And I’m the Queen of England.”

  James eyes him. “You’re too ugly to be the queen.”

  “Drag queen, maybe,” Jesse adds, coming up to the porch with four beer bottles in his hands.

  Franco is behind him, carrying Colin over his shoulder like a potato sack. “Nah, he’s too ugly even to be a drag queen. Although, his man-boobs are big enough that he wouldn’t need to stuff his bra.”

  Ryder glances down at his chest. “I do not have man-boobs, you dumb twink.” He flexes his pecs, alternating them. “These are a hundred percent solid muscle, sonny. Something you and your sissy little CrossFit-nancy friends would know nothing about.”

  Oh god, here we go. Not this conversation again. “Can you guys not argue CrossFit versus powerlifting again?” I groan. “It’s getting old.”

  “What’s getting old is Franco,” Ryder says. “All that high impact cardio is making his joints creak like a geriatric with arthritic knees.”

  “At least I can see my knees past my belly,” Franco says, putting Colin down and poking Ryder in the stomach.

  “Hey, asshat, that’s solid muscle too.” He pokes his own belly. “Just…it’s hidden beneath a layer of softness. Makes me approachable to women and children. You just scare them with your veiny, six percent body fat scarecrow look.”