Already, the air off the water held a hint of a bite as September sped by.
I tipped my face up to the sun as I smoothed my hand over the baby bump that was rapidly growing. Work on the house was coming along and we were learning to live in the chaos of a remodel. I had far more empathy for my clients now that I was in the thick of one myself.
We could actually live inside the mansion now that the plumbing had been sorted, though we still snuck out to the Airstream for sleepovers sometimes.
At least when Archer was out of town since he’d pretty much taken it over once we finished the primary bedroom.
My pocket buzzed and I pulled out my phone.
Husband:
Where are you?
Guess.
Husband:
Swing time for baby. I have something I want you to see.
What did you do this time?
Husband:
You’ll like this one.
Me first. Come outside.
Husband:
Grr. BRT
My husband was seriously my worst client. Good thing we wouldn’t be working together for the rest of our lives or there might bloodshed.
But this time, I had a little surprise for him.
He came blasting out the back door and I turned my swing to watch him. My beautiful husband had finally embraced some of his scars. We were still a work in progress for some of them, but he’d cut his shaggy hair—mostly.
It was short on the sides and back, with a messy bit of length on top. I was actually kind of glad he’d kept some of his long hair because I loved playing with it—and pulling it. He still had his beard, but it was trimmed up now and accentuated the angles of his face instead of hiding them.
The back porch had been finished and he and Archer had finally come up with a compromise on the stonework that made up the porch/balcony combo. The porch had a heavy, wooden door fit for a castle that accentuated the dark stone arches and grand stairs. Above it, the balcony off the tower room had stained-glass double doors in rich blues and purples that glowed in the sunlight.
Our house was slowly coming together.
Nolan thundered down the steps and skidded his way down the hill instead of taking the walkway I’d had them build.
Some things would never change.
He stopped beside the swing and pulled my hammock forward to give me a quick kiss, before giving me a little swing. “What’s up?” He cupped his big hand on my belly, the ring on his hand glinting in the sun. It was complementary to mine in swirls of purple and green metal. “How’s it cooking, Little Bean?”
I covered his hand with mine, my amethyst and diamond engagement ring the only additional difference to his band. “Cooking just fine. Now help me out of this thing.”
He laughed and pulled me out and into his arms.
“Is that a new hole in your shirt?” I stuck my finger through one of many burn holes in the material.
He looked down and squirmed when I scraped skin, then he grabbed my hand and brought my wrist up to his mouth for a nip. “Maybe? I was working on the Grim Reaper for the store.”
My big, bad husband was ticklish. “Almost done?”
“We’ll be ready to open for Halloween, but there’s a ton more to do.”
I cupped his face. “You’ll get it done. And Charlie will be glad you’re busy.”
He rolled his eyes.
Charlie, the stained-glass artist, had been fielding a ton of questions from Nolan since he’d started work on the house. I was pretty sure Nolan would end up apprenticing with him before it was all said and done. My husband was seriously obsessed with mixing metal and glass these days.
I was just happy to see him hip-deep in his art again.
When he wasn’t hip-deep in me, anyway.
“I need you to help me with something in the truck.”
“Oh, sure.” He slung an arm around my shoulders as we made our way up to the Silverado.
As we got to the top of the hill, I grinned at the LITTLE DICK that was still etched into the driver’s side door. He’d told me it was a placeholder for the first day we met. That and he knew he didn’t have a little dick, so he didn’t care what others thought.
“It’s on the passenger side.”
