Epilogue

Dani

One Year Later

Hunter’s chest heaves against mine as we struggle to catch our breath. Finally, with a sigh of satisfaction, I loosen my legs from where they’re wrapped around his hips and he takes a shaky step back from my desk, where I’d tempted him into a quickie. Only it hadn’t been all that quick, and now we’re running late.

“Totally worth it,” he says, as if he can read my mind, even as he pulls up his pants and zips up. I swipe my panties off the floor and slip them on under my new dress before turning to the small mirror hanging nearby. As quickly as I can, I comb my fingers through my hair so I can be as presentable as possible for the television cameras.

Once his shirt is tucked into his pants, Hunter straightens his tie but his hands are shaking—he always gets nervous being in front of the cameras—so I offer him some assistance. A year ago, I couldn’t tie a tie to save my life; now it’s become second nature.

I’ve learned so many things over the past year, some minor and some major.

I’ve learned more about football. To appreciate the game because of the feeling of community it brings its fans.

I’ve learned that I’m more stubborn than I’d like to admit, and I’ve learned that’s okay.

But most of all, I’ve learned that people don’t always leave. Hunter has taught me so much, just by sticking around and not bolting when things got rough. And because of him, I’ve learned to stay too.

“How did I get so lucky?” I pat him on the chest once I’ve fixed his tie.

“I’m the lucky one.” He gently caresses my cheek, his eyes twinkling with love and lust, then drops his hand to entwine the fingers of my left hand with his right. He lifts my hand and kisses the ring that is a symbol of our commitment to one another.

Everything can change in a year. Everything has changed in a year.

“We should go,” I whisper. He nods and leads me out of the office. We make our way down a familiar hall leading to the first of two black curtains. We rush through the open space with three workspaces on either side of us. The tattoo shop is basically the same as it’s always been—for now.

Hunter and I are preparing to work on renovations.

That’s right, I’m the owner now. I’m keeping all of the current tattoo artists and personnel while scouting for up and coming artists who are more than great artists—I want to bring in people who know how to tell stories with ink. I want to mentor them, help shape their artistic style in the same way kind men and women had done for me.

“Can you grab the sign?”

Hunter steps behind the counter to grab the plastic sign to hang on the door.

After he’s hung the sign and we’re outside on the bustling city sidewalk, I turn the key and take a step back to look at the tattoo shop—my tattoo shop. The sign reads: Closed For Renovations. Will Re-Open on May 25th Under New Name, Watercolor Dreams.

Hunter massages my shoulder with a firm hand and kisses me softly against the back of my neck. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” I place my palm on his, holding him in place as I lean gently back against him. “To run this place, or for Chad to become a national star?”

“Both.” He throws his other hand around my stomach to hold me in place. Every time he touches me there, I can’t help worrying he’s sacrificed far too much to be with me. It’s always been a fear of mine, not being able to keep a man for multiple reasons, not the least of which is my inability to have children.

I’ve managed to voice my fears. Hunter assuaged those fears, literally tore them away from the aching pit in my gut that always seemed to scream the loudest that I wasn’t worthy.

We’ve talked about our options extensively when it comes to having children, and we’re not sure what path we’re going to pursue but I know whatever the path, we’ll walk it together.

“It’s a nice sign,” Hunter murmurs. “But we should really get going. Won’t look very good if Chad’s agent and sister are a no-show.”

I laugh, turning around and throwing an arm over each of his shoulders. “Yeah, well who’s fault is that?”

“Seriously?” He arches one brow, a cocky grin hitching across his lips. “If I recall correctly, you’re the one who pulled me into the office under the guise of needing an opinion on something.”

“An opinion on which dress I should wear.”

“And after you tried on the first two, I picked this one,” he points out, grabbing a fistful of the white fabric of the dress that flows just beneath my knees.

“And then you said my panty lines were too noticeable so perhaps I should go commando.” I laugh and shake my head. “After which, you stepped toward me with that familiar look in your eye and somehow…”

He shrugs with a cocky grin. “I am irresistible.”

I break away from the hold he has on me and slap him playfully in the chest. “Seriously, we need to go.”

“Should we take my car…” He cocks his head to me. “Or should we take your bike?”

I stop dead in my tracks. “Really?” To this day, he still hasn’t agreed to ride my bike with me. For being a big, strong man, he certainly has a lot of phobias—needles, heights, bikes, spiders, and snakes—and I love that he doesn’t hide behind machismo but rather tells me every single one.

“No.” He laughs and shakes his head defiantly. “I was kidding. There’s no way I’m getting on that deathtrap in this traffic.”

I purse my lips, feigning a sad pout.

He continues to shake his head, but with a little less conviction. So I turn my lips into a full frown, and that does the trick.

“I hate you so much,” he groans.

“That’s a lie.” I poke him in the chest then practically skip to my bike parked at the curb. It takes a little more maneuvering than normal to hop on thanks to my dress, but I manage. He knows we’re in a hurry, so he glides on behind me. And it’s so damn cute how tight he holds me as I turn the key in the ignition.

When we speed out of the parking lot, his grip gets even tighter, almost to the point where I can’t breathe. I immediately begin to have second thoughts that perhaps we should have just taken his car, but the fact that he’s okay riding shotgun behind his woman says a lot about him. People in this world might think they know who Hunter Kiss is—I certainly used to believe he was somebody else entirely—but they’re wrong.

They have no fucking idea.

Once we begin to merge onto the interstate, his grip on me loosens. It’s a freeing experience being on the back of a bike with the wind in your hair, and I do believe it’s an experience he’s going to become addicted to. He lets out a wild yell, hollering against the wind as we accelerate faster and faster down the highway, weaving in and out of traffic. It’s like he’s a young boy experiencing something for the first time, one of many first experiences for us both over the last year.

A year ago I was terrified Chad wouldn’t graduate, that he’d end up signing his life away without a backup plan. Chad and Hunter both knew of my concerns, and together they worked out an agreement that would allow him to graduate first. Chad said it was always what he’d wanted, but I know better. I know that he did it for me, and I’m so thankful for that.

Today’s a big day for all of us, Chad most of all. He’s a first round pick in the draft. It’s the realization of a dream.

And our father will be cheering him on from the audience, and that’s just about the best possible gift he could have ever given my brother. I’m still wary. I’m not ready to forgive or forget completely. But I’m willing to give my father a chance, and so far, he’s worked hard to prove he’s changed, and that’s been the greatest gift to me.

Well, second greatest gift.

The man hugging me from behind, his strong arms cradling my stomach, he’s the greatest gift I’ve ever known. He loves me completely. Loves every part of me. My stubbornness, my attitude, and my curves.

He loves me for me, and I’m confident he’s going to be the one to stick around.

Life’s a game, and scoring him was the ultimate touchdown.