He didn’t say anything at first. She studied his beautiful, broken face for clues.

  Was she too late? What if he’d realised she wasn’t worth it after all?

  ‘Took you long enough,’ his deep voice teased. ‘Get in this bed, right now. I need you close.’

  She scrambled in carefully, feeling the warmth of him against her. She kissed his cheek over and over when he tried to smile and whimpered at the pain it produced.

  She held his face close to hers and said over and over, ‘I love you...for ever.’

  ‘Wow,’ he mumbled from under her. ‘I should get stabbed more often.’

  ‘Not funny.’ She scowled.

  ‘I love you too, Luce,’ he said in her ear as she held him tight. ‘I always have.’ His grin lit him up from the inside. ‘We’re getting married, Trig.’

  ‘You bet your lanky behind we are, Sasquatch.’

  EPILOGUE

  Two and a half years later

  ‘HEY!’ JACKSON MET them at the front door, taking her shopping bags out of her hands as he always did. They walked down the hall to the kitchen and he leaned down for a kiss on the way, as if he couldn’t wait any longer. ‘Missed you,’ he mumbled into her ear. Even after all this time, she still shivered when he did that. She still found him as hot as the day they’d met. The late August weather was fine, the sun blazing high in the sky.

  ‘Did you get everything you needed?’

  Lucy puffed her fringe out of her eyes, heading straight to the fridge to get them both a cold drink.

  ‘We sure did, eh, doodlebug?’

  Zoe was trying to get up on one of the stools on the island, her face like thunder.

  ‘Mummy made me go to loads of shops. It was so boring.’ Jackson lifted her up, making her laugh as he blew raspberries on her cheek.

  ‘Oh, no, not shopping!’ he teased. ‘Did you get your school uniform?’

  ‘Yes.’ She grinned, brushing her blonde hair back with a little hand and reaching for the juice Lucy had put on the counter. She slurped when she drank, her eyes on the back door. ‘Can I play outside now?’

  Lucy was busy unpacking groceries from one of the bags. ‘Till lunch, of course.’

  ‘Yes!’ Zoe punched the air, and it immediately reminded Lucy of Jackson. She was a Mini Me of him, all guns blazing, just like him. She wasn’t one for shying away from things, and it thrilled Lucy to see it.

  Jackson caught her mid-air as she shuffled off the stool, brandishing sun spray.

  ‘Aww, Daddy!’

  He laughed, putting her on her feet and getting down to her level to spray the sunscreen onto her skin.

  ‘Aww, Daddy, nothing. It’s hotter than Hades out there, and you’re built like a child of the corn.’

  ‘A what?’ she asked, her little nose scrunching up in confusion as he lathered her up.

  ‘Nothing. Have fun.’ He dropped a kiss on her forehead and Zoe took off for the garden.

  Just before she barrelled out to the swings she loved, she turned back to them. ‘Don’t forget to show Daddy your surprise!’ She beamed, and then they were alone.

  ‘Surprise, eh?’ he fished, coming up behind her as she put the last of the food away. He tried to peek into one of the other bags but she swatted his hand away.

  ‘Hey!’ Lucy admonished. ‘I wasn’t going to show you till later. She snitched a tad early.’

  He came round behind her, wrapping her in his arms, nuzzling at her neck. He knew that drove her crazy. Hell, one more rub of his stubble and she’d give away all her secrets.

  ‘That’s my girl. What is it? Come on, spill.’

  She pretended to be annoyed with him, but she was too excited. She didn’t keep a thing from him any more, not since that day when she’d thought she’d lost him.

  The last couple of years had been amazing. It had been hard work, sure, and exhausting. Somewhere along the way, they’d gone from Jack-Jack and Luby to Mummy and Daddy. Zoe knew all about her parents. Their pictures still hung in pride of place in their home. She’d heard the stories and, when she’d started calling Jackson and Lucy ‘Mummy’ and ‘Daddy’, they knew that she’d decided that for herself.

  Zoe was a mix of all four of them. She had her mother’s looks and soft blonde hair and Ronnie’s calmness. Jackson always ribbed Lucy that Zoe had inherited her stubborn streak, and Lucy saw his loyalty and open-hearted love shine out from their little girl. It had been a journey, but she loved where they were going. Living for today, it turned out, was a hell of a lot of fun.

  ‘Come on, wifey, show me!’ Jackson had started to tickle her sides and she yelped as she jumped away from him, grabbing one of the plain bags.

  ‘Fine!’ She pretended to huff. ‘Before I show you, though, promise not to freak out.’

  Jackson scoffed loudly. ‘Pot...kettle...?’

  ‘Shut up!’ She giggled. ‘Fine.’ She came to stand in front of him, holding out the bag to him. He grabbed at it, a daft look on his face, like a little boy on Christmas morning. She pressed her lips together to keep the smile off her face as she observed his confused frown.

  ‘What...?’ His voice trailed off as he unfolded the small, white cotton garment. ‘“My big sister is...”’

  ‘“Awesome”,’ she finished. ‘Zoe picked it out.’

  He held it up, the bag falling out of his grasp to the kitchen floor.

  ‘This is a onesie,’ he said.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘For a baby.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘You—you let Zoe buy this?’ he stammered, his gorgeous face a maelstrom of emotions.

  ‘Yep.’ She smirked. ‘Well, I reckoned we’d need it.’ She came round the island to stand in front of him. ‘You know, in a few months.’ His eyes bugged as his jaw dropped. ‘Freaking out?’ she teased.

  ‘We’re having a baby?’ His voice cracked. ‘For real?’

  ‘For real.’ She laughed. ‘Just our timing, too. One kid goes to school full time, and we start all over again. Are you happy?’ she asked, watching him look at the little outfit in his hand as if it might vanish.

  ‘I’m not happy,’ he said, lunging forward and picking her up in his huge, muscular arms. ‘I’m freaking ecstatic! Zoe!’ he shouted, and she appeared at the back door. ‘We’re having a baby!’ He yelled, twirling Lucy round on the spot.

  Zoe rolled her eyes, a classic Lucy move.

  ‘I know, silly! I’m the big sister!’ She put her hands on her hips, nodding to the clothing in his arms.

  Jackson and Lucy laughed out loud. ‘Good point. Get over here, smarty-pants!’

  Zoe ran over with a giggle, and Jackson reached down and scooped her up.

  ‘My girls.’ He grinned, showering them both with kisses. ‘I love you,’ he told them both. ‘So much.’

  ‘We love you more,’ Lucy told him. Hugging them both to her, she wondered at how life could change so much. How tragedy could rip people apart and change them. It could alter their landscape for ever, but sometimes lead to something new and unexpected—something great that might never have made them so happy without going through the deep, dark sorrow first.

  That night, with Zoe fast asleep after their busy day, and Jackson kissing her still-flat tummy before carrying her to bed with love and lust written all over his gorgeous face, she reminded herself never to forget how lucky she was. She liked to think that, wherever they were, the people they had lost would be watching and be happy for them...at peace. It gave her the strength to enjoy every moment and take the rough with the smooth. Squeeze every drop out of life and follow her gut in her personal life as well as in her career.

  * * *

  Months later, she proved just that to herself, and to the love of her life. As she cradled Zachary Ronnie Denning, exhausted from labour and eager to show Zoe her little brother, she didn’t hesitate to enjoy every single second. He was perfect, just like Zoe. A child she’d made from love with Dr Denning, the man whom she’d once jokingly threatened to sterilise to do the women of the world a favour.

  ‘I love you.’ Jackson beamed, that grin bowling her over.

  ‘Pack that grin up, Denning. I just had your baby. You’ll make me want another just to make you do it again.’

  ‘Deal,’ he retorted, making her laugh. ‘We can fill the whole house with kids.’ He looked at Zachary. ‘He’s amazing, isn’t he? He has the Denning chin.’

  She rolled her eyes at him. ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t go paintballing and fall in love with a stubborn woman, eh?’

  His low, rumbling laugh surrounded her as he hugged them both to him. ‘I hope he does. I’ll tell him it’s the best thing his dad ever did, being shot in the groin by his mother.’

  ‘Worth all the todays?’

  He bent to kiss her just as the door opened. Zoe ran in, followed by two very excited grandparents.

  ‘All the todays for ever,’ he whispered. ‘Fighting and loving you is what makes life worth living.’

  ‘Deal?’ she joked.

  ‘Hell, yeah.’ He growled. ‘Bring it on, Trig.’

  * * *

  If you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Rachel Dove

  How to Resist Your Rival

  A Midwife, Her Best Friend, Their Family

  Single Mom’s Mistletoe Kiss

  Falling for the Village Vet

  All available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Winning Back His Runaway Wife by Louisa George.

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  Winning Back His Runaway Wife

  by Louisa George

  CHAPTER ONE

  FIVE YEARS AGO Charlotte Rose would have cherished this moment.

  This...exact...moment: clipping the most adorable, smiling baby into her car seat after a night of nine hours’ sleep—nine whole hours! And she was only six months old. Baby Stella was a veritable miracle of cuteness overload. Climbing into the driver’s seat and heading across the city she loved to a job she adored: part-time emergency doctor at busy Auckland Central hospital. And enjoying the whole Auckland summer vibe of sunshine, sparkling waterfront views and, today, surprisingly little traffic.

  Five years ago, Charlotte would have thought this scenario would make her life utterly complete: a baby; the perfect job with hours to suit; being back in her beloved hometown. But here she was, wishing everything could be different.

  From the back seat baby Stella made a little hiccupping noise. Charlotte’s heart jolted, knowing that specific sound was a precursor to... Oh, yes: here it came, loud and heart-wrenching, not just a cry but a full-on bawl.

  Smiling, Charlotte glanced in her mirror and cooed, ‘Stella, Stella, sweetie. Please don’t cry. Hush. Hush.’

  The baby had been fed, nappy-changed and had a toy to play with for the short drive. Maybe she’d dropped it. Ah, well, it would have to wait.

  Charlotte switched the talkback radio station to something with upbeat music, hoping that would soothe her precious cargo. Sure enough, Stella blinked, mouth open. A pause....? A reprieve...? Yes...? Yes...?

  Then she inhaled deeply and started with that heart-breaking sound again.

  No.

  ‘Stella, darling. Please don’t cry. It’s all going to be okay.’

  Please let it all be okay.

  Charlotte sighed, wondering whether she should pull over, find the dropped toy and give Stella a quick cuddle because, yes, she was a softie who would rather cradle a baby than let it cry. And why not? Babies didn’t understand timetables and deadlines. Didn’t know about having to go to work. One quick smooch wouldn’t hurt. Maybe Stella needed a drink or a snack.

  She spied a good parking spot across the other side of the traffic lights. She cooed some more as they sat idling at the front of the car line, waiting at the intersection until the lights turned green. Then she headed across...

  A shadow whooshed across her line of vision. Her neck and upper body jerked as she felt an impact, as if she were a rag doll being shaken. Then her car was shunted from the side, across the road, out of control.

  What the hell?

  Panic made her hands shake, made her limbs weak and her heart race. She managed to turn her head to work out what the hell was going on. The front of a huge truck was glued to her door. There was a screech of tires. The stench of burning rubber. The crunch of metal on concrete. A looming lamp post.

  And a very quiet baby.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘MATE, MIA’S FRIENDS loved you. She said to tell you that any time you fancy coming over again for a break we can organise a double date...’

  ‘Thanks, but no.’ Lewis Parry laughed but jumped in to shut his colleague up. Being on holiday for two weeks with Brin and his family on Rāwhiti Island had been amazing. They’d gone fishing, swimming and diving. They’d eaten what they’d caught from the ocean and drunk the local craft beer. ‘I had a great holiday and I’ve come back to work feeling refreshed and relaxed. In my experience, a relationship would put a swift end to that kind of vibe.’

  ‘Just saying...’ Brin put up his hands. ‘I thought the same, but find the right woman and it all clicks into place.’

  Been there. Done that. And it all fell apart.

  ‘I’m thinking you got lucky.’ Lewis finished up his electronic notes from their last call out and slipped the tablet into the glove box. Sometimes he wished he worked in wide open spaces rather than the confines of an ambulance with a newly ordained and far too enthusiastic matchmaker as sidekick.

  ‘You have to make your own luck, mate.’ Brin grinned. ‘Hey, maybe you’ll make some luck at the fundraiser on Saturday night. Lots of hospital staff will be there...’ He winked and nudged Lewis’s arm.

  Great. Brin’s happily settled so he thinks we all have to be.

  The radio crackled.

  ‘Code Red. R Four. MVA. Female driver. Baby passenger. Ponsonby Road and Picton Street intersection.’

  Lewis was immediately grateful for the spotlight shifting from his woeful love life to their jobs.

  ‘Ten-two. Unit Four responding. Over,’ he radioed back to control. Then he turned to Brin. ‘A baby? Damn. Let’s get a move on.’

  As they approached the accident scene, it was obvious that a truck had ploughed into the side of an old blue sedan which had then been shunted into a lamp post. The car’s rear driver’s side door had been totalled and the driver’s door buckled and dented enough to impede opening. The passenger-side doors rear and front were dented but openable. He assessed the area for safety as he jumped from the van: no evidence of spilt petrol or oil.

  The truck driver was sitting on the side of the road, head in hands.

  Lewis called out, ‘You okay? Do you need help?’

  Face pale and wan, the man shook his head. ‘Help the others. I’m... I’m okay. My brakes... I kept pressing on them but they didn’t...’

  ‘Thanks, man. We’ll come back to you and check you over.’ The man was walking and talking: he could wait. Lewis turned to Brin. ‘I’ll check the driver, you check the baby.’

  ‘On it.’ Brin nodded and peeled off to the far side of the car.

  The driver’s window was smashed and Lewis had a partial view of the person in the driving seat as he tried to tug open the distorted door. She had her head turned away, looking into the back seat. Her shoulders were shaking, and she was saying something he couldn’t quite hear. Her hair—a beautiful shade of russet red—was tied into a low ponytail.

  Red...

  Charlie?

  A long-forgotten ache slammed into his gut, mingling with memories he’d tried to keep at bay for five years. Memories that flashed through his mind: red hair entwined with flowers and a gossamer veil; red hair splayed on a pillow as they’d made love. A tight ponytail, shoulders shuddering as she’d walked away, suitcase in hand—the last image of her as she’d left him.

  No, it couldn’t be Charlie. He shook himself. She lived in London. But funny-weird how, even though she lived on the opposite side of the world, he sometimes thought he saw her at the beach, in a crowded street or in a shopping mall.

  It was never her.

  Focus, man.

  Her screams were becoming clearer now. ‘The baby! Is the baby okay? Please. Please get the baby.’

  Definitely not Charlie. There were no babies in her life; there couldn’t be. But as she turned to look at him, her blue eyes red-rimmed and imploring, cheeks streaked with running mascara, his gut folded in on itself. It felt as if the world had stopped turning. It was her, with her mesmerising eyes and perfect mouth.

  His wife.

  Ex-wife.

  ‘Charlie?’

  ‘Lewis?’ Her chest caved forward then, and her face crumpled. ‘Oh, my God, Lewis, thank God it’s you. You’ve got to help me. Please, get the baby. She’s too quiet.’

  Damn. Was it her baby? He pushed the spike of hurt away. ‘It’s okay, Charlie. My colleague’s opening the door now. He’ll check your baby. What’s her name?’

  ‘St... Stella,’ Charlie stuttered through gulps of air. ‘Is she okay? Please make sure she’s okay.’

  ‘It’s okay, it’s okay, I can hear her fussing,’ He lowered his voice and crouched to talk to her. Charlie was his patient now. Their past had nothing to do with this. He needed to be the paramedic, despite his shaking hands. Damn. She’d always had this effect on him: taking his breath away, tipping his world sideways. ‘She doesn’t look hurt at all. The car seat kept her safe. My colleague Brin will look after Stella. I’m here for you. Tell me, where do you hurt?’