“Congratulations,” I say, grinning as I look up at my man. “You’re officially a resident of the best town in the world.”

Tyler is watching the empty moving trucks rumble away down my street. Our street. He takes a deep satisfied breath. “And I’m married to the best girl in the world. Lucky me.”

“Lucky you is right,” I say, grinning as I slip my hand into his. I smile when I feel the wedding band that I bought him wrapped proudly around his ring finger. He never takes it off, even in the shower.

It’s been a month since Mack sold Hospitech to us for the price of a cheap coffee, and we’ve been living together in my place ever since. Tyler sold his condo in Vegas, traded his two cars in for a bike, and is now a permanent resident of house number four on Maple Ridge Road, Summerland.

We had talked about upgrading our house and even went to visit several properties, but after seeing a few, we decided to stay here. Every house we visited just felt wrong. They were too big, too impersonal, too flashy, too far from town. This house is just right. It’s going to be the perfect house to raise a family in, and now that I have the start of one, I can’t wait.

“Well,” I say when the moving trucks turn around the corner, and out of view. “I guess I’m stuck with you now.”

He takes my hand and pulls me toward the house with a smile on his face. “You guess right. Because I’m definitely stuck on you.”

We head into the house and start unpacking his boxes, trying to fit everything into drawers and closets that are already stuffed to the limit with my junk.

“You brought these?” I ask, shaking my head as I pull out the whip and ball gag from a box.

“We still haven’t officially had our honeymoon,” Tyler says, walking over. “I thought they might come in handy.”

“You thought wrong,” I say, tossing them back into the box. “We tried that once, and it didn’t work out so well.” I laugh when I reach into the box and pull out a large framed photo. It’s our wedding photo, the one that could double as a mug shot. “You got this framed?”

“I sure did,” he says, taking it from my hands. He’s all smiles as he walks over to the fireplace and puts it on display in the middle of the mantle. “Perfect,” he says, taking a step back to admire it.

“Not perfect,” I say, crossing my arms as I playfully glare at him. “I can’t have that on display in my house.”

“Our house,” he corrects. “Dahlia, marriage is all about compromise.”

“I’m willing to compromise,” I say as I walk over and grab the photo. “I’ll get my way and you can figure out a way to deal with it.”

He laughs as he steps behind me and looks over my shoulder at the photo in my hands. We look like a hot mess. The strands of my hair are as tangled as a box of Christmas lights, and my makeup looks like it would be more suited on a clown caught in a hurricane. Tyler looks just as bad with his half-closed eyes, and the ball gag strapped to his mouth. A trail of drool is leaking from the side of his mouth down to his chin.

“You look worse,” he says.

I burst out laughing. “Are you kidding me?” I answer. “Look at you! You look like you forgot what our safe word was.”

He takes the frame from my hands and puts it back on the fireplace mantle. “I guess we’ll have to let our guests decide who looks worse.”

“Fine,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “But don’t expect them to come back for a second visit.”

As if right on cue, the doorbell rings. “Are you expecting anyone?” Tyler asks.

“The moving trucks just drove through town,” I say with a laugh. “I’m expecting everyone.”

We walk to the front door and Tyler drops his jaw when he sees the whole town either on our front lawn or walking toward it with coolers, cases of beer, bottles of wine, homemade pies, and even portable barbecues that some of the guys are setting up on our driveway.

“Welcome to Summerland,” I say with a giggle. “There’s no place like it.”

I look up at Tyler, hoping that he’s not going to be overwhelmed and hide in the basement, but to my surprise, he opens the door, grabs my hand, and pulls me out onto the porch. “Hey, neighbors!” he shouts with a big smile on his face. “Welcome to our home!”

The huge crowd cheers as we walk down the steps to greet them properly. We get swarmed with hugs, warm welcomes, freshly baked apple pies, high fives, plants, bottles of wine, and even a handmade quilt with our names stitched on it from Mrs. Baker who lives down the street.

The alcohol starts flowing, the barbecues are lit, the music is pumping, and everyone is having a good time. I smile as I watch Tyler talking to a bunch of guys from the office. They’re hanging on his every word as he tells them a story. I’m wondering what he’s talking about when my old boss Mr. Wallace comes over holding a bottle of champagne with a bow on it.

“Congratulations, Boss,” he says, handing me the bottle. “I’m really happy you two took over Hospitech.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wallace,” I say, taking it from him. With Tyler and I as the new bosses, we had to demote him to a lower position, but he was thrilled when we offered him a big raise to go along with his demotion. He’s a good employee and we wanted to keep him happy. Even though I’m his boss now, I still can’t bring myself to call him by his first name.

Emily comes over next, giving me a warm hug as she congratulates me on my sexy catch named Tyler. “I told you nothing good comes of drinking white wine spritzers,” she says with a grin. “I’m glad you did Vegas properly.”

“I’m glad you forced me too.” We clink our beer bottles together and sit on the porch, watching the party. My eyes inevitably fall back on Tyler like they always seem to do. He’s taking over the grilling on the largest barbecue as the men of the town gather around with vigilant eyes. Tyler may be the new boss and the new cool guy in town, but none of that will save him if he burns the steaks.

“You better go save him from those barbecue Nazis,” Emily says with a laugh. “He doesn’t know what he’s dealing with. They’ll barbecue him if he flips over their steaks too early.”

I laugh as I walk over and tap him on his broad shoulder. “Can you help me with something inside?” I ask.

He turns to me with a grin. “I’m doing my best Bobby Flay impersonation over here.”

I step on my toes and lean into his ear. “Hey Bobby, these guys are going to flay your ass if you mess up their steaks.”

“This one is burning,” John from two streets over points out with a hint of panic in his voice.

“Alright,” Tyler says, handing the spatula to Greg. “I’m better at ordering steaks than I am at cooking them.”

The guys all turn back to the barbecue, arguing over who should get to hold the spatula.

“You can thank me later,” I say as we head inside. “I just saved your life.”

He grabs my wrist and pulls me into the hall closet, closing the door behind him. “How about I thank you right now?”

His lips come down on mine before I can answer. “Mmmm,” I moan as his tongue slides over mine. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m just getting started,” he says in a deep growl as his hands slide up to my waist. “It’s time to show you who the master of the house is.”

My breath quickens as his hands slide up and over my breasts. His lips come back down on mine and he kisses me until I’m panting for more.

“I think I’m going to like living with you,” I say between gulps of air.

“You better,” he says as he pulls me in close. “Because this house already feels like home.”

My heart swells in my chest.

I couldn’t agree more.