Chapter Twenty-Five
At 9:59 the next morning a brand-new Phoebe returned home. John, loose and relaxed behind the wheel next to her, sighed.
“I was planning on working another hour on the transmission last night after dinner.” His fingers toyed with the skin on the back of her neck.
“And leave me alone with those three monsters again?” she teased.
“I didn’t say it was a good plan. But I thought if I got the transmission working last night, I could get a jump on spraying this morning. Then we could take the rest of the day off. Swim in the pond or go into town for ice cream. Wear the boys out so I could enjoy some more quiet, quality time with my wife after they fell asleep.”
His hand brushed her hair back from her face. She’d cut it shorter a year ago. It came to her shoulders now, straight as an arrow. It was easier than taking care of her long tresses that were irresistible to little fingers that gripped and pulled. But there was still enough of it for John to run his fingers through.
“With a locked door this time,” Phoebe reminded him. “We don’t need Jax asking even more questions about naked wrestling.”
The corner of John’s mouth turned up. “I swear I locked it last time. I don’t know how those buggers got in there.”
Seven years in, and he was still the sexiest man on the planet to her. He still felt like home and heaven and everything good and steady in her life. The life they’d built together—sure, it was a mess sometimes—but it was a damn good mess.
Phoebe rested her hand on his thigh and squeezed. “I love you, John Pierce, grower of sunflowers and raiser of boys.”
Tenderly, he pulled her across the bench seat of his truck to him. “And I love you, Phoebe Allen Pierce. Keeper of books and tender of children and pets.”
He kissed her softly, sweetly. A gentle reminder that even when all else was chaos, this, this was good and safe and solid and oh so right.
She cupped his face, enjoying the scratch of stubble on her palm. “Maybe if I pack you a sandwich, you can work through lunch, and we can still take the boys into town for ice cream tonight?”
“Sounds like a plan, my brilliant wife.”
They got out of the truck and took a moment to stare up at the house.
“You know,” Phoebe sighed. “I’m awfully glad I was your Mrs. Pierce. It would have been a shame for you to have to tear this place down and build from scratch.”
He laughed. I’m awfully glad you came back and yelled some sense into me that day. He brushed his lips over her cheek. “Are you ready?”
She bit her lip. “As insane as they drive me, I missed them last night,” she confessed.
“That’s the Pierce charm,” he said with a wink.
Their boys burst through the front door still in their pajamas. “Mom! Daddy! Mama!” Little voices greeted them, little arms embraced them, and in motherly amnesia, Phoebe forgot all about the disaster of last night and let herself love.
“We played Atari with Uncle Mike!”
“Me ate fwee eggs!”
“Can Donovan wiv wiff us?”
Michael, Hazel, and Elvira joined the party on the porch with coffee mugs and donuts.
Phoebe settled Beckett on her hip while John hefted Jackson over his shoulder. Carter hopped on his father’s back.
“Thank you just doesn’t seem like enough.” Phoebe leaned in to wrap Elvira in a well-earned, one-armed hug.
Elvira smirked. “Please. Piece of cake. I don’t know what you parents are always complaining about,” she winked.
John, juggling Jax, exchanged a shoulder slapping manshake with Michael.
“Welcome home,” Hazel said, pressing a coffee cup into Phoebe’s hand.
“I’m afraid to go inside,” Phoebe whispered.
Hazel’s laugh boomed under the porch roof. “There’s no puke. I promise.”
“I frowed up yesterday,” Jax announced cheerfully from John’s arms.
“He gets his emotional eating from me,” Phoebe joked.
Donovan wrapped his chubby little arms around her leg. “My Mommy and Daddy wrestle nakeds just like you and Uncca John!”
“Oh, lord.” Phoebe clamped a hand over Donovan’s mouth.
“Let’s see if we can dig up some booze for that coffee,” Hazel said, red-faced.
“Kitchen pantry behind the wheat bran,” Phoebe called after her.
With her arms full of boys, she stepped into the house that no longer smelled like blueberry vomit. It smelled lemony with a hint of lavender. The living room had been redecorated with a large quilt and cushion fort bursting with blankets and pillows. The hallway floor was swept clean, and there wasn’t a speck of dust on any of the picture frames dotting the entryway walls.
Gone was the puddle of disgustingness. The linoleum gleamed brighter than new. The kitchen counters were clear, the breakfast dishes were drying next to the sink, and there was a full pot of coffee on.
“I know John is my husband and all, but I’d marry each and every one of you for this,” Phoebe said, feeling her eyes grow misty.
Murdock, the aging canine who refused to embrace his elderliness, woke in his bed in the corner. His rear end wagged, and he let out a greeting yip before rolling onto his back and falling asleep again. Sadie, the dopic retriever John had found on the roadside with a broken leg, danced at their feet until one of the cats wandered through the kitchen drawing her attention.
“Let’s see,” Elvira said. “Nordemann worked her magic on your casserole dish. I don’t know how she got that charcoal brick out of it, but it’s good as new. The dishtowels were a complete loss. Hazel picked some new ones up on her way in this morning. The boys had breakfast. Laundry’s done and hanging out on the line. And there’s sandwich fixings for lunch.”
“Alfie Cofax and Carson showed up at six a.m. and should be finished with the spraying by noon,” Hazel put in. John swiped a hand over his face and rubbed the back of his neck.
“There’s also a new deadbolt on your bedroom door after MacGyver here announced that he learned to pick your lock,” Michael said, jerking his thumb in Carter’s direction.
“Carter!” Phoebe gasped impressed and horrified.
He shrugged his shoulders, a move that was one hundred percent Phoebe. “Beckett locked me out once, an’ I didn’t like it.”
John, in a rare display of emotion, grabbed Elvira by the shoulders and placed a loud kiss on her mouth. The boys cackled when he repeated the same with Hazel and even Michael.
“Who wants one more game of Super Mario?” Michael asked, clapping his hands. He winked at his wife.
Hands shot up around the room, including John’s.
“Go play with your friends, Michael,” Hazel grinned.
Team Testosterone stampeded into the living room, and Phoebe sat down at the table. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without all of you.”
“You’ll never have to find out,” Elvira promised, squeezing her hand and sliding the donuts closer.
“What’s this?” Phoebe asked, fingering the envelope on the table.
“It’s an application from Nordemann. She’s starting up some committee for the betterment of Blue Moon,” Hazel rolled her eyes.
“Calls it the Beautification Committee,” Elvira put in.
“Just what I need. One more responsibility,” Phoebe groaned. But in Blue Moon, civic duty was the law of the land. And there was no way she’d say no to the woman who cleaned up partially digested pie on her kitchen floor.
“It’s probably going to end up like Tupperware parties. Lots of gossip and wine and appetizers,” Elvira said. “I’m joining.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad. And I could use a little time away from my army of adorable assholes. I mean, I love them more than anything in this universe, but sometimes I just want to drive away and never come back.”
Hazel laughed. “I know exactly how you feel. Sign me up for this Beautification thing.”
Elvira topped off everyone’s mugs.
“Phoebs, you’re doing a great job. Your boys are wonderful people. Wonderful people with terrible haircuts, but still. You and John are doing it right.” Hazel said, sipping her coffee. She wasn’t one to wear her feelings on her sleeve, which made the words even more powerful.
“Be proud. They’re going to grow into fine men,” Elvira predicted.