Alex “Big” Crane

Fancy Christmas dinner. My three sons and their significant others. Rhona at my side, her hand on my knee. Perfection.

So to speak.

As damn close as one could come, anyway. Never in my life did I dream that after burying the love of my life, Luna, I’d find another woman with whom to share my heart.

Luna wouldn’t want me to be lonely. I know that.

Rhona knew it, too. It’s why she was so slow in her approach. This old Marine considers himself wise, but where Rhona was concerned I’ve been a bit of a buffoon. The day she flat out told me that she was interested in more than working with me, the moment she grabbed my face and stood to her toes and touched her lips to mine...

It was everything I didn’t know I wanted. And when she made love to me for the first time, I was a goner. She snagged my heart long before she sat on my cock, but getting sweaty with her was what sealed the idea of forever.

Never thought I’d fall so hard, so fast. Not again.

Rhona and I are getting married next month. We’re going to Hawaii, but we haven’t told the kids that they’re going. They are, though. Every damn one of them. I bought an island for the occasion.

You heard me.

A damn island.

I know, I know, completely ridiculous. So what? I’ve lived a life and a half in the short time I’ve been here and it isn’t as if I’m taking my wealth with me. Plus, Rhona deserves to be pampered. And it’ll rope my boys into taking the breaks they need. Workaholics, the lot of them.

Wonder where they got that from, I think with a soft grunt.

Under the Christmas tree in the living room are three fat envelopes. In them, the plane tickets and itinerary for Rhona’s and my wedding. I can’t wait to see their faces when we tell them. Especially since Tag and Rachel will be married right before we open gifts. I’m looking forward to seeing the longing erased from her sweet face.

“Are you nervous?” I ask my bride-to-be. “About the ceremony?”

Rhona’s eyes twinkle with mischief. She likes having a secret, and she told me as much when she was online getting ordained for the occasion. “No. I’m great under pressure.”

She gives me a foxy wink, and hell and damn. Wish we had a dark corner to hide in so I could make her shatter in my arms for the second time today. I’ll never get sick of that.

Dinner was incredible. Rhona insisted on making the food—including a slow-roasted slab of prime rib. At the last minute I talked her into a catering staff to serve and clean up, not wanting her to fret. They had arrived, set up, served, and vanished as requested.

Rhona baked Christmas cookies as well—butter, my favorite—and chocolate chip, the crowd-pleaser. Two full platters are in the kitchen, and my two lovely daughters-in-law Merina and Isa are nibbling away when they’re supposed to be setting them in front of me. My soon-to-be-daughter-in-law, Rachel has a smile glued to her face, but it might be for show.

If she only knew …

“I don’t think Rachel suspects, do you?” Rhona whispers, reading my mind. I take in her beauty, her soft smile, and smile back. I love this woman. I tell her ten times a day.

“No. I don’t believe she does. But it’s about time to put her out of her misery, don’t you think?” I tip my head toward Tag who is standing rigidly at the appetizer table where there are a few leftover wedges of cheese and crackers.

“You need to tell Tag to stop eating his feelings.” Rhona giggles. “Why is he so scared of matrimony?”

“He’s not. He’s scared of letting Rachel down. His nerves have sneaked past that indelible smile of his. I’ll talk to him.” I stand from the table and make my way to my youngest son.

That hair. Never in my life have I understood his penchant for wearing it past his elbows, but he’d always insisted that “the ladies love it.” That may have been why he grew it out, but he kept it long for Rachel. She loved it, and she was the only woman who mattered to him.

“How are you, son?”

“Good. I’m good.” His smile is more out of habit than genuine.

“Take advice from your old man, yeah?” I grip his shoulder, having to reach up to do it.

“Sure. Okay.” He shrugs like he doesn’t care either way, but he does. Too much. Tag’s stature isn’t the only big part of him—beneath that mountainous exterior lies a huge, caring heart.

“That blonde in the kitchen is your forever girl,” I tell him. “As long as God lets you keep her.”

I watch my son’s throat work as he swallows past a lump of emotion. His blue eyes drill into mine.

“Be the man she fell in love with. Confident, cocky—”

“Fantastic in bed.”

Well. At least his grin is back.

“She’s going to need you to catch her when you knock her off-kilter. Are you ready to marry the love of your life?”

The dab of hesitation I witnessed in Tag’s expression earlier fades in a blink. He’s everything I raised him to be. He’s strong. He’s certain. He’s a good man and he will make a loyal, wonderful husband. Exactly what Rachel needs.

“Hell, yes.”

“Good.” I nod with finality. “Get ready.”