“What. A. Dick.”

“Tara…” Milly began, tilting her head at the woman now filling up her phone’s FaceTime screen.

“No, don’t ‘Tara’ me! First, he bites you…”

“Saves my life,” Milly edited.

“Then he mates you without telling you what he is.”

“After I begged him to,” Milly noted.

“And then he goes crazy on you when you attempt to go to New Zealand…”

“Because he’s my bonded mate, and he didn’t know how to handle my leaving. But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Boy, was she ever. Milly looked around the Queenstown hotel room, hardly able to believe she’d be meeting up with the Milford Track tour group in just a couple of hours.

Tara ignored Milly’s arguments to point out, “You say bonded, I say crazy obsessed stalker. And I think we can all agree after everything that’s happened over the last month that Tara is always right.”

“About most things, yes. But this referring to yourself in the third person business? Not so much.”

A beat of annoyed silence, then Tara said. “I don’t love this new wolf version of Milly either. What happened to laughing at all my jokes, and being too scared to talk back to me?”

“I still laugh at all your jokes,” Milly insisted. “But now I also point out when you’re being crazy or annoying. Or both. For instance right now.”

“Bitch, I am ten minutes away from a full moon shift. You’re lucky I’m calling your ass at all before you throw yourself out into nature to get eaten by bears.”

“Okay, Tara, since you only have ten minutes left to talk, I won’t waste it by pointing out that New Zealand doesn’t have bears—”

“You’ve got your satellite phone, right?” Tara cut in, since apparently she’d decided to switch roles and become the worrywart in their friendship.

“Yep.”

“And you’ll call me as soon as you’re done with this stupid walkabout?”

“Walkabouts are Australian, but yes, I’ll call you right after. I promise.”

“And you’ve got a snake bite kit?”

“Um…no,” Milly answered, trying hard not to laugh. “Because aside from the random escaped snake, there are no native land snakes here. Seriously, Tara, stop worrying. I’ll be fine.”

“Will you?”

“Aye, she will. Especially since she’ll have her mate here to make sure nothing happens to her,” another voice answered across the hotel room.

Milly glanced over the top of her phone screen to see Iain coming out of the hotel bathroom. Her heart hiccupped at the sight.

He was nude, yet he looked so much different to her now than he had a mere four weeks ago at the Balmoral Hotel. He’d acquired a tan thanks to a couple of weeks spent in Italy visiting his mother. And his beard had gone from stubble to a full-on thing, which made it near impossible to see when his jaw was ticking underneath. Not that it did much of that these days. Not only had her grumpy boss transformed into a sexy mate, but the aloof mask he used to wear had all but completely disappeared. And right now, Milly knew exactly what was on his mind when his eyes landed on her with a hot and greedy expression in them. He was looking at her as if the simple cotton pajamas she wore were the sexiest lingerie.

“Hey, Iain,” Tara called out, interrupting the intense eye foreplay between he and Milly. Then she asked, “Why aren’t you turning the phone around so I can say hey?”

“Because he’s naked,” Milly answered with a laugh.

“I repeat…why aren’t you turning the phone around so I can say hey?” Tara asked again, her tone completely serious.

This time both Milly and Iain laughed.

“Okay, well, thanks for calling, Tara,” Milly said, deciding now would be a good time to kick her cheeky best friend off the phone.

“Wait a minute, Tara…before you ring off,” Iain came to stand at the end of the bed, and his voice took on a serious tone. “I dinna suppose you’ve heard from Magnus since we left?”

On the phone’s small screen, Tara’s whole face visibly wrinkled as if she’d just smelled something foul. “Why would I have heard from that tool?” she asked. “I figure he’s still pissed at me after what happened in Faoltiarn.”

“Aye, I’ve no doubt he is. And that’s why I’m asking. This isn’t Canada, Tara. And Magnus can be…temperamental.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “I’m not afraid of your brother, and I can take care of myself.”

“I’ve no doubt about it,” Iain responded, his tone agreeable enough. But his expression remained resolute as he advised, “Magnus has been a wee bit too quiet for my liking these last few weeks. And he tends to make most of his moves after the full moon when he’s feeling rejuvenated. My flat is a lot more secure than yours, and he probably wouldna think to look for you there. I reckon you should move in until we get back.”

Since she still couldn’t see Iain, Tara shot Milly a super huffy look through the phone screen. “And why would I do that? I can take care of myself,” she insisted, stretching out the last sentence as if she were talking to a dimwit who didn’t understand what a badass she was.

“Please, Tara,” Milly said. “I know you’re not afraid of anybody or anything. But please do it for me?”

“Seriously, I don’t need—!”

“Did I mention Iain’s flat has a washer and an American-style dryer?”

An annoyed beat passed. Then, “Ugh! Fine, I’ll move in tomorrow.”

But Tara gave Milly a none-too-pleased look for hitting her with the ultimate kryptonite. Because as every American and Canadian expat knows, it is physically impossible to resist a private residence that doesn’t require you to lug your clothes to a local coin-op laundry, or hang each item up to dry in the notoriously damp Scottish climate.

Milly grinned. “You’ll love it…” she assured her resentful best friend.

And after a few final moments of chit chat, they hung up.

“You’re becoming very good at that,” Iain said as Milly placed her phone on the nearby bedside table.

“At what?”

“Getting people to do what’s best for them.” A tender look came over his face. “I’ve made peace with my mother. And now Tara’s moving into a more secure space. You’ll make a good mother, moi chridhe.”

“I hope so,” she said, gazing back at him with an equally tender smile. Milly no longer cared that he could read her mind and she couldn’t read his.

When he looked at her like that, she knew exactly how he felt.

She still couldn’t believe he was here with her. That instead of moving his offices to Ireland in accordance with his banishment, he’d left the new AlgoFortune launch in the hands of his capable team and decided to travel with her until the baby was born.

“You were right about not really living until now. And if we’re speaking truth, with all this work I do, I haven’t done much living myself either,” he told her four weeks ago outside her former apartment building. “I’ve decided if I have to return to Faoltiarn to serve as King, then I want to do as much living as I can with you until the day comes.”

And now they were smiling at each other across a bed in Queenstown, New Zealand hotel room.

“Speaking of living…” Iain said, casually reading her mind as he bent down and started crawling toward her on the bed. “This will be our last chance to make love in a proper hotel bed. Don’t you think we should take advantage of it?”

Milly had to laugh.

“No, I don’t. We took more than enough advantage of it last night. And we’re meeting the guide in less than two hours, so we should probably go through our packs one more time to make sure they’re up to standard. Plus, I still need to take a shower myself.”

All valid points. But none of them slowed his incoming crawl in the least.

And the next thing Milly knew, she was on her back with her naked husband on top of her. The tip of his long length pushing into the cotton panties beneath her pajama shirt.

“Say ‘aye,’ chridhe,” he commanded, voice dark and seductive in her ear.

Milly could have said no. They only had an hour left to prepare, and unlike Iain, she hadn’t even showered yet.

But she’d already said aye to so much over the last four weeks. Aye to Iain taking this trip with her. Aye to his claim. Aye to getting married in Italy. Aye to a life lived happily ever after with him, even if they had to return to Faoltiarn after the baby was born so Iain could reluctantly take his brother’s place as king. So…

“Aye,” she said once again, her mouth breaking into a wide smile right before Iain captured her lips with his.

Because why not?

The mouse who had been too scared to speak up before her fatal diagnosis had learned to say aye to life.

After all, she knew better than most that you only get one life to live. One chance at happily ever after. So why not say aye to it all?