CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Fin reached into his back pocket and pulled out one last purple larkspur. After a decade of making flower-chain bracelets for his wild thing, he knew exactly how many fit her wrist.
A year ago, he’d come home for Ryder’s wedding with nothing but a fistful of hope that he’d find a way to get his woman back. Now…he breathed in the sun-baked sage with a full heart…now, he had it all.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, but he ignored it. He was done for the day. In addition to training his five elite athletes, he’d broken ground on the lodge that would house them, which meant the only thing left on his agenda was to spend his birthday alone with Callie.
The trail ended in his backyard, so he unlatched the gate and made his way around the covered pool. He saw movement through the windows, shadows milling around.
She wanted to make a big event out of it, huh? Didn’t she know that after a day around his athletes, the full-time nutritionist and personal trainer he’d hired, the yoga instructor, his brothers, and Uncle Lachlan, he only wanted to be with her?
He’d go along with her plans, obviously, but then he was hauling her off to his bedroom to get their own private party started.
The sliding glass door rumbled on its runner, and he heard whispers.
“Shh, you guys.”
“He’s here.”
“Woman,” Fin shouted. “I’m home. Fetch me a beer.”
His brothers, Brodie and Gray, burst out laughing, and conversation kicked in.
Callie strode into the kitchen. “You’re such a jerk.” She walked right into his arms, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him soundly. “Happy birthday.”
Taking in her long, wavy hair, the pretty wrap-dress she’d worn for a day in her museum, he breathed in her wildflower scent, and all the stress of the day dropped away. “How long till everyone’s gone?”
“Hey, little brother, no one’s going anywhere.” Gray tossed a bottle of beer at him.
Fin caught it in the air.
“Come on out and say hello to everyone.” Callie reached for his hand, but Brodie cut them off.
“Hang on. Let’s give him his present first. Before he starts moonwalking on the dining room table.”
“I was ten.” Why did they have to bring up the same old childhood stories? He followed Callie and his brothers up the back stairs and down the hall. “Where we going?”
Brodie led them to the trophy room, and they all gathered outside the door. “Within these walls lies twenty-eight years of accomplishments. From local to county to state to national and world competitions, our achievements are all on display. All of us…except for you.” Brodie drew a breath. “Today, that’s finally going to change.”
“About damn time.” Gray clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Proud of you, little brother.”
Fin glanced to Callie. He had no idea what they were talking about. He hadn’t earned a trophy in his life, but their seriousness got him excited.
Brodie opened the door, and they all followed him inside the dark, windowless room.
Impatience had him reaching for the light switch, but someone’s hand covered his.
“Hang on,” Brodie said. “I just…” He sucked in a breath. “I’m damn proud of you, Fin. All it took was word-of-mouth to launch this training facility, and you’ve already got three Olympic athletes and two World Games competitors.”
“He’s had to turn people away,” Gray said.
“All right, cut the shit, and turn on the light.” Half of him was sure they were messing with him, but the other half was about to explode with anticipation.
The lights went on, and he scanned the shelves and glass cases—until his gaze landed on the massive framed magazine cover that took up half the wall.
His image smiled back at him. National Adventurer had declared Fin Bowie the most sought-after coach in extreme sports. That’s so cool. He reached for Callie’s hand and gave it a squeeze, emotions running high.
He didn’t even care about the moustache someone had drawn over his upper lip in black Sharpie. But, from the tension in the room, he knew his brothers were waiting for his reaction.
He gave them each a hard look. “I always wondered what I’d look like with a porn ’stache.”
They all burst out laughing. Gray drew him in for a hug, and Brodie piled on.
Too bad Will’s not here. He was in Whistler, at the last competition of the season.
“Will’s right, you know,” Gray said into his ear. “You’re the best out of all of us.”
“Come on.” Brodie slapped both of them on their backs. “Let’s get out there. Callie got the entire town to come over and kiss your ass.”
“She even made you a cake,” Gray said
“Wait.” Brodie headed toward the door. “You can make a cake with sweet potatoes?”
The brothers filed out of the room, but just as Callie started to follow them, he grabbed her hand. “Hang on.”
His woman, his heart, turned back to him with a curious expression.
He gently tugged the flower bracelet out of his pocket and reached for her hand.
She beamed that fresh, sexy smile. “Thank you. I love it.”
As he gently slid the chain onto her wrist, an image struck him. Callie, with a wreath of wildflowers on the crown of her head, her wavy hair a crazy rumpus around her glowing face. In a white lace gown, her feminine hand outstretched, waiting for him to put a ring on her finger.
I need to make that happen.
He’d always known he and Callie were forever, so marriage didn’t enter his mind. In all the ways that mattered, he’d been married to her since high school. Who needed a piece of paper when she was half his heart and most of his soul?
But, right then, the symbolism mattered. Mattered a lot, actually, if his thundering heart meant anything. “I want to marry you, wild thing.”
Her hazel eyes went warm and soft, and a look of joyful serenity came over her. “I want that more than anything in the world.”
Hell, yes. “We’re going to get married.” Why did that make him so damn happy?
“Now you can finally make a decent woman out of me.”
“Nah, I want to keep you as indecent as I can.”
Cupping the back of his neck, she got up on her toes and kissed him.
Every time—every single damn time. All she had to do was look at him, and he lit up. But her touch? This connection? Jesus, he got so hot for her. Pressing her to the wall, he grabbed the backs of her thighs and lifted her, holding her in place with his hips. Her fingers gripped his hair, her legs banded around his waist, and she rocked into him.
“Want you,” he whispered in her ear.
“Want you more.”
He squeezed her ass, fingers slipping under the elastic edge of her panties and seeking her hot, wet center. “You’re going to be mine forever.”
“I always was.”
“Do I need to turn the hose on you two?” Marcella stood in the doorway. She shook her head. “You got a house full of people who want to wish you a happy birthday, Fin Bowie, so how ’bout you come downstairs so I can roll out the cake and let them sing the damn song?”
Callie tucked her face into his neck, her body shaking with laughter.
“You want to give me a minute here, Marcella?”
“No, but for the sake of polite company, I will. One minute, Fin.” She left the door open behind her.
Callie lowered her legs but kept her arms around his neck. “You’ll get to unwrap your present after they leave.”
“Damn right I will.”
As they came down the staircase, he found the living room filled with familiar faces from his past and present. His and Callie’s families, old teachers, Coach, his staff, neighbors, and his Dad’s friends. A warm feeling settled over him. He had a full and beautiful life. He couldn’t ask for anything more.
The moment he hit the bottom of the stairs, arms reached to embrace him.
“Happy birthday, Fin.”
“Hey, man, happy birthday.”
And then the group launched into the birthday song. Marcella and a cake blazing with candles parted the crowd as she made her way to him. Golden candlelight lit her features as she watched him with pride. The chorus grew louder and stronger, until she stopped right in front of him. Callie’s hand rested in the middle of his back.
Someone shouted, “Blow out the candles!”
Just as he drew in a breath and leaned forward, he heard a voice call, “Excuse me?”
Everyone turned to see a woman standing in the doorway. In her arms, she held a little girl with a tumble of auburn curls. Her face was turned into the woman’s neck, hidden behind the stuffed chicken she clutched in one tiny arm.
“I’m looking for the Bowies?” the woman said.
And with that the little girl’s head popped up, and she eyed the roomful of strangers with a mix of challenge and stubborn determination.
A wave of shock rippled across the room. Someone said, “Oh, my God.”
Because there was no mistaking it. From the bright blue eyes to the shape of her face and that defiant expression, that girl was a Bowie.
The question was—
“Whose kid is she?”