One Year Later…
“Go! Get out of here,” insists Pamela with a laugh.
I clutch the cardboard box in my arms, filled with a stunning bouquet of flowers, along with a birthday card from the staff, and a half a dozen handmade birthday cards from the kids. My eyes well up again as I look down at my incredible gifts and then back over at Pamela. She waves her hands, shooing me out, and I grin before offering her a nod, reluctantly making my exit. What I really want to do is go back and hug each and every one of my kiddos, but I’ve done that already, and I really should be getting home.
Stepping out into the cool spring afternoon, I hurry to my car, now anxious for the rest of my day. I’ve got an appointment in a couple of hours that I’ve been looking forward to for weeks. Then, tonight, I’ll be celebrating my twenty-first birthday the Brooke way. She insisted that she be in charge of my party, given that she’s the socialite between the two of us, and I didn’t put up a fuss. I’m not sure what all she has planned for the evening, but I’m hoping it’s nothing too extravagant. Then again, I think she’s worked out her penchant for opulence on her own forthcoming celebration.
Thinking about her and Owen’s wedding, which will take place in just a couple of months, triggers my stress. I was given strict instructions not to worry about my living situation today—no apartment hunting, no scouring the internet for move-in deals—but it’s kind of hard to forget that as the end of the semester approaches, so does the end of our lease. I’ve been trying to find someplace that isn’t wildly expensive, but I haven’t had much luck. I know that my dad pays for a portion of my rent, but I don’t want to take advantage of that. Coder keeps suggesting that we get a place together, but I keep turning him down. It’s not that I don’t love him like crazy, or that I don’t think living with him would be wonderful—I just know my parents wouldn’t approve.
To say that it has taken a while for my parents to warm up to Coder would be putting it mildly. Mom and dad are gracious, welcoming, kind people; but I’ve learned that when it comes to their only daughter and youngest child, they can be incredibly overprotective. Then again, I suppose the first time they met Coder, I took them completely by surprise. When we showed up at their house last year, the week after our spring break trip to California, it was like a scene from a movie. They definitely weren’t expecting me to show up on the back of a motorcycle, and I don’t think Motorcycle Boots was the clean-cut guy they always imagined I’d bring home.
Over time, they’ve gotten the chance to know him a little bit, and they’ve accepted the fact that he’s a permanent part of my life. Above all else, they want me to be happy. It’s clear to everyone that we love each other, and he makes me beyond happy. Nevertheless, just because my parents like him doesn’t mean they want me living with him. They’re very traditional, which I wholeheartedly respect and understand, and I won’t go against their wishes so long as they are still helping to support me financially.
Coder finds it to be a bit annoying, but I’m constantly explaining that when they look at us, they only see the outside. They don’t see what we share, not really. They don’t know that our intimacy goes way deeper than just sex—but we do, and that’s enough for me for now. Living together and marriage and all that entails, it’ll happen in the right time. I don’t want it to be a matter of convenience, but a decision made in love. In the eyes of God, we’ve already chosen each other; we’ve already bound ourselves together in the most intimate way possible. We’re soul tied, whether the law sees that or not. So my stress over my apartment search is my plight—just not one I’m allowed to focus on today.
When I’ve returned home, I take my gifts to my bedroom, setting my bouquet on my nightstand, just beside the picture of Sheamus, Coder, and me. I prop all of my birthday cards on top of my dresser next, and then I throw myself across my bed. Laying on my stomach, I set about returning a bunch of calls that I received while I was at the hospital. I start with my parents and then work my way down the list. By the time I’ve spoken with my brother, Addie, Avery, and Grayson, it’s time for me to get ready to leave again. Just as I’m about ready to walk out of the front door, Brooke comes strolling through it.
“Hey, birthday girl!”
“That’s me,” I say with a smile.
“Oh! Are you headed to Generation Ink now?” I nod and she lifts her eyebrows at me in question before she asks, “Sure you don’t need me to go along to hold your hand or something?”
“I think I’ll be okay,” I assure her, hoping that I’m right.
“Good. I’ve got so much shit to do before tonight.” She holds up a shopping bag and grins at me mischievously. “Though, I have crossed off one thing from my list. You’re going to look so hot for our festivities.”
“Why am I suddenly afraid of what’s in that bag?” I ask with a laugh.
“Because you know me.” Her grin grows even more wicked as she giggles and then adds, “And I know Coder.”
Shaking my head, I hold up a hand to signal that she need not say more, and then I start to make my exit. “I don’t even want to think about it,” I declare, now sure that apartment hunting is the least of my worries today. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“See you soon. And good luck. Can’t wait to see it!”
“You and me both. See you.”
I waste not another second before I hurry to my car, my stomach tingling in giddy anticipation. I try and imagine what it is that Coder has dreamed up for me as I drive to the shop. Honestly, I really have no idea. I never thought that I would get a tattoo, but after spending so much time at the shop and seeing what the guys and Willow do there, I started to like the idea more and more. It was just a few months ago that I decided I was going to get one. When Coder asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I didn’t think twice before I told him I wanted him to ink me.
I remember the look of excitement on his face at my request. It was soon followed by a shocked expression that came when he asked me what I wanted and I told him he could do whatever he thought would look good. For an entire month, he asked me every day if I was sure I hadn’t come up with something specific I wanted, or a particular place on my body that I preferred over another. Every time he asked, the answer was no. I didn’t even think about it. I had made up my mind that this was going to be his gift to me, wholly and completely.
Finally, earlier this month, he stopped asking. That’s when I started getting antsy—I knew that meant he’d thought of something.
It might sound stupid or naïve or whatever, but I want him to mark me. I want it to be something special—something that came from him. He’s my man, now and forever, and I know how passionate he is about what he does; furthermore, I know how passionate he is about me. He’s the only one I would trust to do this. My body and my heart are his. If I’m going to get a tattoo, I want it to mean something profound. In giving him the freedom to do this, it’s almost like his love letter to me. I know that whatever he does, it’ll come from his heart. That is the best gift that I could ever hope for. That is something I want to carry with me forever.
When I arrive at the shop, I find Grace behind the front counter, Rosalie cocooned against her chest in the sling that’s wrapped around her back. Rose made Axel a big brother just after the New Year, and she’s the quietest little precious bundle I’ve ever known—definitely a contrast to Savannah, who is on her way to being the spunkiest little girl in our bunch.
“Oh, is she sleeping?” I murmur, tiptoeing my way to the counter.
“No,” Grace speaks through a soft laugh. “Just staring at mama. Hmm? My pretty girl is just taking it all in, isn’t she?”
I watch as Grace traces her fingertips along Rosalie’s cheek, totally in awe of her. Grace works so hard, keeping this shop up to snuff, keeping her husband happy, and raising two beautiful children. Even Harvey couldn’t keep her at home when she’d decided she was done with maternity leave and ready to get back in the shop. I admire her, I really do, and I certainly haven’t been giving her any grief. If she’s here, then Rosalie’s here, and that means when I drop by, I get to snuggle. Now that Caroline and Axel are getting older and more independent, Daphne usually watches them during the day, making their visits to the shop less frequent than they used to be; but they’re around once or twice a week, and I get to see them on Sundays, of course.
“Oh, my god!” Grace gasps, her head shooting up as she looks from Rosalie to me. “Happy birthday, sweetie! I’m sorry, I was having a mom moment.”
“It’s okay,” I laugh as she hurries her way from behind the counter.
“Get over here. Group hug,” she demands, holding out her arms. We sandwich Rosalie in a careful embrace before Grace tells me, “I don’t know how I could possibly forget. I made you the most amazing cake this morning. You’re going to love it. We might have to eat it before lunch tomorrow. Or maybe you should just come over for breakfast.”
“So, basically, if I show up tomorrow and a piece is already missing—”
“Blame Harvey,” she playfully interjects, throwing her hands up as she returns to her spot behind the counter.
“Uh huh,” I giggle.
“Well, Kenzie, I would tell you to head on back, but you have some papers to sign today.”
My stomach knots up with nerves, but I can’t wipe the smile from my face. I’m just as excited as I am nervous. I barely even look at the disclosures she puts in front of me before I sign them. Right as I’m finishing up, Coder appears out of the mouth of the hallway, his signature smirk making my heart skip a beat. He’s wearing a plain, black, long-sleeved t-shirt and pair of jeans with his boots, looking just as gorgeous as always. I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning—Brooke insisting that we hang out last night, just the two of us, while we went over wedding stuff.
“Hey, babe.”
“Hi, honey.”
Shifting his gaze to Grace, he jerks his chin before he asks, “She good?”
“She’s all yours.”
Coder holds out his hand and I hurry over to him, wrapping my fingers around his as we make our way back to his room. Grace calls out for good luck, and soon everyone is popping their head in the hallway, greeting me, wishing me well on my birthday, and offering words of encouragement for my first time under the needle.
The moment after we cross the threshold into Coder’s room, he shuts the door. Before I can blink, I find myself backed up against it. I hear the rattling of the handle as he locks us in, and then his lips are on mine, owning my mouth in a hot, wet, deep kiss. I drop my bag onto the floor and then slide my arms around his middle, flatting the palms of my hands across his back. He groans—man, I really love that—and cups his hands around my face, making me feel treasured and loved. A small whine spills from my throat when he parts his lips from mine, and he chuckles before brushing one last soft kiss against my mouth.
“Happy birthday, Mack,” he rumbles, his dark, soulful eyes staring down into mine.
“Thank you.”
“You ready to get inked?”
Grinning up at him, I fist the fabric of his shirt into my hands as I push myself up onto my tiptoes, leaning into him as I declare, “I’m so excited.”
He returns my grin with one of his own, winking at me before he says, “Come ‘ere. Let me show it to you.”
I grab my bag and follow him to his desk. When he sits in his chair, he takes hold of my waist and guides me down into his lap. I search the surface area in front of me, my eyes hungry for the piece that’s mine, but he doesn’t reveal anything. Turning my head to look at his face, I’m surprised to find him staring at me in wait.
“Coder,” I giggle, playfully nudging him with my elbow. “The suspense is killing me. I’m ready, baby. Show me.”
“If you don’t like it—”
He starts to warn me, but I cut him off, reaching back to kiss the side of his mouth. “Don’t speak such nonsense. Show me!”
He smirks and then offers me a nod before he pulls open the top drawer of his desk, taking out two different designs, each of them already on transfer paper. “This one,” he starts to say, holding up a piece that spans about four inches long. The image is a row of five little birds in flight, each of their wings in a different position. “This one would go here.” He takes hold of my left wrist, turning my hand palm up before tracing a diagonal line along the inside of my forearm, just above my wrist. “I wanted you to have something you’d see all the time. Something small—a reminder of the ones you’ve loved and lost, and the ones you still fight for.”
His words hit me right in the middle of my chest, and I feel them profoundly, causing my heart to ache and leap all at once. I lean back against him, turning my face until my lips find his cheek as I whisper, “Yes. Yes. I love it.”
My attention shifts back down to the paper in his hands when he reveals the second design. I suck in a breath, leaning forward as I take in the image. It’s perfect—absolutely perfect. This is what I wanted—this is what I was hoping for. This is all Coder. And yet, at the same time, it’s all me, too.
He’s drawn a beautiful feather, maybe about seven inches from stem to tip, and two inches tall at its widest point. Inside of the outline, instead of looking like an actual feather, he’s filled it with an assortment of intricate tribal designs—except it’s not the least bit masculine. There are four of five different sections that come together to form a cohesive image, and he’s weaved flowers into a couple of the patterns displayed. The feather itself is slightly curved, as if it’s falling, and beneath it, along the edge, there’s an incredibly delicate script, so fine I can barely make it out.
“What does it say?” I whisper, not daring to look away from it.
“We fight to keep our promises. Willow took care of the font for me.”
Overwhelmed with how amazing this gift has turned out to be, my eyes well up with tears I don’t even bother blinking away. I swallow the small knot in my throat as I ask, “Where does it go?”
He sets the pages down, and my breath catches in my throat as he starts to inch up the hem of my shirt. When he’s got the right side hitched up over my breast and under my arm, he curls his fingers beneath the side of my bra, tracing a line across my ribs, just below the swell of my breast. His touch makes my skin break out in goose pimples as I imagine the feather where he’s designed it to be.
I don’t think twice before I pull my shirt from over my head, dropping it on the desk. My heart pounds fast and hard in my chest as I remove my bra next, allowing it to fall to the floor before I turn to face Coder. I then circle my arms around his neck and press my naked breasts against his chest.
“Do it,” I whisper. “I’m ready, baby. Mark me.”
“Fuck,” he whispers, bringing a hand up to grip a fistful of my hair. “That’s my girl.”
“I love them. Both of them—but especially the feather. It’s just right. Thank you. Thank you so much. I love you, and I want my body to say so. Forever.”
“Mack,” he grunts, closing his eyes as he touches his forehead to mine. “If you don’t stop talking, I’m gonna have to fuck you right now.”
I bite my lip in response, keeping my mouth shut. Not that I’m opposed to having him inside of me in his office—it’s happened before—but not on a day like today. The next time he enters my body, I want to be tatted.
After a moment of silence, Coder sighs, presses a quick kiss against my lips, and then demands I get up. I do as he says before he grabs my shirt, pulling it back over my head. “You know how much I love your tits, babe. Not looking to be hard the entire time I’m working on you. I’m going to start with your wrist. The ribs can be tough—we’ll get your adrenaline pumping first, yeah?”
“’Kay.”
He takes me to the chair and then gets everything set up. The sound of the tattoo gun seems a whole lot more menacing when I know it’s coming for me, but I brace myself the best that I can. At first, it hurts more than I was expecting, but Coder distracts me from the pain, insisting that I tell him about my day at the hospital in vivid detail. Pretty soon, the needle doesn’t seem so unbearable, and I try to relax, watching my man do his thing.
It only takes him about twenty minutes to finish my arm piece. He then patches me up and settles me on my side so that he can work on my ribs. He wasn’t kidding about how much more this would hurt. I cry a little, making me feel like a total wuss. I try to hide my tears from Coder, but to no avail. He doesn’t stop, though. He keeps going, reminding me that taking breaks will only prolong the processes. Knowing he’s right, I seal my eyes closed tight and bear it; all the while, he encourages me, assuring me that I’m doing great and it’ll look amazing when he’s done.
It takes him over an hour to complete my side. As soon as we’re finished, he wipes me clean and grabs his handheld mirror, holding it up so that I can see. I stare at it for a long time, at a loss for words. Amazing doesn’t begin to describe how it looks or how it makes me feel. Certain that anything I say would fall short, I don’t speak at all. I lift my eyes until they meet his, hoping that he understands all that it is that I’m saying by not saying anything at all.
“Yeah?” he mutters.
I nod, reaching for his face as I lean forward, brushing my lips against his. “Oh, yeah,” I whisper.
I feel his mouth curve into a smile as he grabs my right wrist, bringing it down until it’s resting on the impressive bulge he’s sporting inside of his jeans. “Babe—I’m going to fuck you now.”
“’Kay.”
There really is no sense in arguing. When Coder wants inside of me, he always finds a way. He has seduced me more times than I can count, and he always makes it worth my while. Always. It’s never only about him, which is just another reason why turning him down is simply denying myself. Some may find me submissive, and I wouldn’t disagree. Since that very first night, the night I offered him my virginity, my body has been his. Just as I gave him the freedom to ink my skin, I’ve granted him the right to claim me whenever he needs. He’s never given me any reason to doubt that he respects me and loves me and would die before he’d ever do anything to humiliate or hurt me.
He helps me out of the chair, holding onto my waist as he captures my mouth with his. He kisses me as we move, slowly making our way to his desk, his feet well aware of where we’re going without the aid of his eyes. When my backside hits the front of his desk, he unfastens the top of my jeans before shoving his hand into my panties. A small whimper sounds from my throat as his fingers graze my clit, coaxing my arousal. It doesn’t take long before I’m ready and anxious for him. As soon as he’s satisfied with his handy work, he spins me around, and gently presses my chest down onto his desk.
He tugs my jeans and my panties down my thighs, and then I listen as he frees himself from his own clothes. I suck in a breath when he gathers both of my wrists behind my back, holding them captive in one hand as he slides his dick inside of my warm, wet center. With my legs pressed against each other, he’s forced to squeeze his way in. As he stretches me open and fills me completely, I swear, he’s touching every bit of my core.
He begins to rock his hips, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. I press my forehead against his desk, biting my lip in an effort to keep myself silent. It’s a battle I’m sure I’ll soon lose as he pounds into me harder. It feels so good—urgent and raw and greedy. He’s not taking his time at all, but I love it. I can hardly catch my breath, and his soft grunts from behind me spur me on even more.
“You close, baby?”
“Close,” I breathe.
I turn my head, resting on my cheek as he frees my hands. I wonder what he’s doing until the places them palm down on either side of my head, lacing his fingers through mine. He leans over me, his t-shirt felt against my back as he bucks his hips.
“Will you come on my cock if I talk dirty to you, baby?” His voice is low, rumbly, and so very sexy, making me crazy with his big dick ramming in and out of me.
“Coder,” I mewl, clenching his fingers between mine.
“You like it when I fuck you on my desk, don’t you? You love it slow and sweet, but you crave it fast and dirty—that’s my girl.”
I moan, his hot breath against my ear making my nipples tingle.
“Fuck, baby, my ink on your skin—goddamn, it’s got me so hard for you.” He kisses the space just below my ear, using a little tongue, and my eyes roll into the back of my head as I enjoy what he’s giving me—both gentle and hard.
“Honey…”
“Come for me, baby. Give me you.”
As if he’s just said the magic words, I clamp down around his dick, pulling forth his release, and we climax together. I whine softly, desperate to free the cry inside of me, but knowing that I can’t. Not here, anyway.
Coder surrenders his weight on top of me when he is spent, his lips seeking out my neck as he delivers a few, sweet kisses. I don’t want to move, not wishing to lose the feel of him from inside of me, but I also recognize that I’m more than half naked on his desk, and this isn’t exactly an ideal position to be in—locked door or not.
“Honey?”
“Need a minute,” he mutters.
My insides go squishy, and I suddenly don’t care where we are, so long as he wishes to keep me close for a moment longer.
“Babe?”
“Yeah?”
He doesn’t respond right away, and then he sighs before pressing a kiss into my hair. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Kissing me one more time, he mutters, “Don’t move.” After he pulls out of me and yanks up his jeans, he heads to the sink and wets a couple paper towels before he comes to clean me up. Ten minutes later, after he’s covered my second tattoo and I’m back in my clothes—sans bra—he pulls me into his arms as he glosses over the tattoo care instructions I’ve heard him recite a million times. When he’s finished, he lets me go, tugging up the sleeves of his shirt as he says, “I guess you’ve got to go get ready.”
“Yeah. I’m sure Brooke will start blowing up my phone any minute.”
“I’ll walk you out.” He takes hold of my left hand, and as we start to make our exit, my eyes drift down to look at my covered tattoo. That’s when I notice Coder has some new ink, too. I stop dead in my tracks when I realize what he’s done.
“Baby,” I murmur, reaching over with my free hand to graze my fingertips over the new piece. On the back side of his forearm, there are five birds in flight—just a bit bigger than mine, but still the same. With our hands linked, it’s like they’re all flying together, forming a V migration pattern. “Coder…”
Squeezing my fingers, he says, “Yours are to remind you of why you keep fighting—mine are to remind you you’re not fighting alone.”
I clap my hand over my mouth to silence the sound of my sob. It hits me so fast, there’s no stopping it. He takes a step closer to me, running a hand over my hair before gripping the back of my neck and bringing me to his chest. He dips his head, speaking into my hair as he mumbles, “Happy birthday, baby.”
I blush as I stare at myself in the mirror, wondering how I even allowed myself to let Brooke talk me into putting on this dress. She wouldn’t show it to me until my hair and make-up was done—and she had very specific instructions as to how I was to do that, too.
My hair is pulled back into a curly ponytail, a thick braid starting at my side part and wrapping around my head, the tail disguising my hair tie. I’ve left a few tendrils loose around my face, hoping to achieve the look of stylishly disheveled. My eyes are made up like usual—thick, dark eyeliner and plenty of mascara to help my eyes stand out—though Coder has told me plenty of times that he loves my eyes with or without make-up—and I’ve kept my jewelry at a minimum, wearing only my favorite ring on my right hand.
I felt fine about how I looked until I saw the dress. Now, I’m not so sure I can leave this room.
Apparently, Coder told Brooke where he planned on putting my larger tattoo. The what he didn’t reveal, but when she asked him if she needed to keep anything in mind whilst shopping for my birthday dress, he gave her a hint that no bra would be favorable. How she got it in her mind that I could pull this off, I have no idea.
“She won’t come out.” I look through my reflection found in the mirror on the back of my door at the sound of Brooke’s voice. “I’ve seen her. She looks hot as shit—but she won’t come out.” I jump, startled when she bangs her fist on the door before she yells, “Hot as shit, Kenz! You better still be in that dress!”
That dress—a dusty pink slip dress with spaghetti straps and a V-shaped, scalloped cut neckline. The back plunges low in another deep V, leaving a ton of skin on display. I feel my ponytail brush against my lower spine, just above the small of my back. That dress is so loose, light, and short, it feels like I’m wearing nothing at all. My breasts, while small, have no support whatsoever, and the only thing preventing my nipples from poking through the light fabric are the sticky cover things Brooke gave me when she handed me that dress.
“Mack? I’m coming in.”
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, my feet already questioning how long they’ll last in the platform wedges Brooke demanded I wear. As Coder slowly opens the door, I ask myself again how I allowed Brooke to talk me into this.
When he has the door all the way open, I immediately forget about what I’m wearing, my mouth salivating at the sight of him in what he’s wearing. Black motorcycle boots, fitted, dark blue jeans, and a light denim button-up, left untucked, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair is wonderfully disheveled, and he looks just as gorgeous as he did the first time I ever saw him.
“Holy fuck,” he mutters, earning my full attention. As soon as our eyes meet, he crooks a finger at me, beckoning me toward him. Hesitantly, I close the distance between us, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth as he hooks an arm around my waist and presses me against his front. “Wear the dress,” he grunts, giving me a squeeze. My blush returns as he smirks down at me before he says, “Just this once. I promise you’ll never wear it again.”
Arching an eyebrow at him with a smile, I ask, “You promise?”
“Babe,” he grunts, dipping his head so that his nose touches mine. “When the night is through, so is this fucking scrap of fabric. It’ll be in pieces when I’m done with you.”
A shiver runs down my spine as I press into his chest, suddenly excited about the prospect of him ripping my clothes off to get to me later. “Okay,” I reply, my voice only loud enough for him to hear. “I’ll wear the dress.”
“Good.” Taking my hand in his, he turns away from me, looking to Brooke as he insists, “Let’s roll.”
She stands with her hands on her hips, her gaze shifting from Coder to me, then back to Coder. “I don’t know what you just did, but that’s one party trick I’ll be remembering,” she says, lifting an eyebrow as she flashes me a coy grin. She then turns down the hall, calling out, “Owen? Did you bring in the—”
“Got it.”
As we enter the main room, I see Owen hand her a little, square shaped, spiral notebook. Brooke holds it up, showing off the custom cover that reads: Kenzie’s 21st Birthday Album. I tilt my head in question, and she giggles before she says, “Tonight, we’re crawling. We’re hitting eight different bars, and at each location, we’ll all be helping you complete a special birthday scavenger hunt. At the end of the night, this spiral will be full of awesome random shit. You ready to party?”
I smile at my best friend—partly because I’m nervous about what this scavenger hunt will consist of; partly because I’m excited about what she’s planned; but mostly because, in spite of all that makes us different, I love her to death.
“I’m ready. Let’s do this.”
By the time we make it to bar number two, I’m tipsy enough to ignore my already aching feet, and I’m having so much fun. As we walk into the establishment, Brooke leads us straight to the back of the bar, the table she had reserved for us being the only vacant spot in the popular venue. There are just four stools at the high seated table, and Brooke, Willow, Lilibeth, and I call dibs, leaving Coder, Owen, Pete, and Rigs on their feet.
I was really excited to hear that Rigs would be in town to join us tonight, especially because I knew that meant he’d bring Lilibeth. I adore her. They started seeing each other a few months after he broke up with Piper—who, turns out, was really just an unhappy person. It’s weird to think about, but Coder told me Rigs ended things because of the way Piper treated me. At first, that made me feel really guilty—even though I hadn’t done anything—but Coder assured me that Piper treated a lot of people the way she treated me. Rigs overlooked it, something he couldn’t do when it came to me. He liked me too much. Coder’s one of his best friends, and apparently, dumping Piper was more like choosing Coder.
In the end, it’s all worked out for the best. He met Lilibeth in Wyoming. With her living there and us living here, we don’t get to see her nearly as much as we saw Piper. Fortunately, she spends most of Rigs’ Colorado weekends with him, so I’ve gotten the chance to know her. She’s a little bit wild, but sugary sweet, and she makes Rigs really happy.
“Okay—first, we need shots!” cries Lilibeth. “But I also want to know what’s the second item for this hunt.” She rubs her hands together, waggling her eyebrows in mischievous excitement, making me giggle as Brooke pulls out my birthday notebook. Our first stop yielded a bunch of autographs from the patrons of the bar, all of them wishing me a happy birthday. I was surprised by how many strangers wanted in on our game, but I sort of loved it, too.
“So, this one is more like a dare. You have to say yes to three things. You won’t know what these three things are until they happen. But when they do…” Her voice trails off as she reaches inside of her bag and pulls out an old, polaroid camera. “I’ll be capturing them for posterity, and adding these to your notebook.”
“Oh, my god—please tell me that the first dare is a blowjob shot,” Lilibeth begs.
“Yes!” Willow laughs. “That’s perfect.”
“On it,” says Rigs before he heads to the bar.
“Wait—a blowjob shot?” I look behind me, titling my head back to see Coder. He smiles down at me, his hands around my hips giving me a squeeze. “What’s a blowjob shot?”
“No hands, babe.”
His answer leaves me confused until Rigs returns, a waitress following behind him. When she sets the shot glass in front of me, towering in whipped cream, suddenly no hands makes sense. I look to Brooke, who can’t stop laughing, and then back down at the shot. A blush fills my cheeks when my mind fills with thoughts of Coder’s dick, reminding me that I know how to do this. Not only am I sure I can do this with no hands, but I know that I’ll be able to swallow without choking.
“This is so embarrassing,” I cry, covering my face with my hands.
“Come on, babe,” coaxes Coder as he pulls my hands from my face, holding them in his own. “Show them how it’s done.”
“I’m so going to record this,” says Willow from across from me, pulling out her phone. “Daphne and Grace have to see this.”
My blush deepens, and Lilibeth drums the palms of her hands against the table, egging me on. “Come on, Kenzie-girl, say yes!”
“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” I mumble. Shaking my head clear, I pretend that nobody is watching, and then I just go for it. When I pull the glass from between my lips, they all cheer, and I can’t help but to laugh.
As we settle in and everyone orders a drink, I opt for water—as do Owen and Willow, our DDs for the night. My body is already feeling warm and loose after the three shots I’ve had so far. As this is only our second stop, I know I have to pace myself. By the time I finish my first glass of water, I’m so lost in conversation, I forget that I’ve only had to say yes to one thing. When Coder tells me he’s headed to the bar for a beer, he asks me if I’d like another drink. I tell him I’m fine, and he leaves without protest.
He returns a few minutes later, setting his bottle on the table in front of me before curving his chest against my back and wrapping an arm snuggly around my waist. I relax in his hold, a contented smile curling my lips as I fold both of my arms over his. With his free hand, he reaches around me, finding my left hand before gently slipping a ring over my finger. My heart skips a beat as I immediately lift my hand in front of my face, and my breath catches as I look at the gorgeous stone he’s just put on me. I don’t know what it is, but it’s oval and it’s got this dull, shimmery shine to it—almost like a clear, polished rock, but prettier. It’s set on a rose gold band, and it’s huge on my finger. I can’t stop staring at it.
Coder kisses the spot just below my ear before his low voice rumbles, “Kenzie Mariah Willis, will you marry me?”
I gasp so loudly, I almost startle myself, and then I turn on my stool until I’m facing him. “You just called me Kenzie,” I blurt out.
He laughs, his remarkable grin lighting up his face. Reaching his hand out, he grips the back of my neck, gently pulling me toward him as he grunts, “Babe…” He doesn’t say anything else, his previous question still lingering in his dark eyes. My insides go squishy.
I stand to my feet and wrap my arms around his middle, arching my neck back before I give him the only answer I could ever give, “Yes.”
He then leans down and kisses me so well, I forget where I am.
Yeah—he still does that to me.
When he pulls away, I’m breathless and really glad I’ve got something covering my nipples right now.
Holding me tighter against him, he goes on to announce, “Found us a place. A house. It’s small, but it’ll do for now.”
My whole body jolts in surprise as my jaw drops open. “I—I—you—what?” I barely manage.
“You just agreed to marry me. No way in hell are we going to keep doing this living apart shit.”
“But I can’t—I mean, a house? I can’t afford—”
“Hey,” he grunts, giving me a squeeze, making my insides tingle. “Am I your man?”
“Coder—”
“Am I?”
Holding up my left hand, I murmur, “I just said yes.”
“Fuckin’ right. I’m your man, and your man bought a house. Don’t need your money, we’ve got mine. I make plenty, and I’ve been splitting rent four ways for years. I’ve got more than a little nest egg. I can take care of us. Say yes, babe, so I can finish my beer and we can head to the next bar.”
It isn’t until he finishes his speech that I remember Brooke’s warning. You won’t know what these three things are until they happen. This is the third thing, the third thing I have to say yes to. It then dawns on me that he’s been planning this for a while—and Brooke was in on it—which explains why she hasn’t been at all concerned about where I’m going to live in two months. She already knew.
I look beside me at my best friend. She’s standing in Owen’s arms, the polaroid camera in her hands as she watches me with glee. I laugh when she rolls her eyes in playful exasperation before she mouths, Say yes! Then I look back up at my man. Pressing up on my tiptoes, I slide my hands up his chest and then around his shoulders, holding him tight as I stare into his eyes. He stares right back; and in our silence, I’m reminded that I am his and he is mine, and we are here because God is good, and He loves me very much. I don’t believe in luck or coincidence—and I’m sure that I cannot take credit for finding this man—this man that I love with all of my heart and all of my soul.
“Babe,” he whispers.
“Yes. I’ll marry you. I’ll move in with you. I’ll make babies with you. All of it—I want all of it with you.”
A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth before he brings his lips a hair’s breadth away from mine. “Good.”