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Besides, who didn’t like making an income?
It didn’t matter that we didn’t particularly need it. It was nice to have it regardless. And it was nice to share with others the amazingness that was Ranger’s creations, the labor of our love.
“Alright. If you need me, I will have my cell,” I told her.
“We won’t need you. Stop fussing.”
Miller had been unexpectedly amazing with babies. Did you have a fussy one who wouldn’t eat? Miller came running with a spoon and spaceship noises. One who had a gas bubble that wouldn’t dislodge, she had the perfect bob and pat routine. One that wouldn’t sleep through the night? She had them down in twenty minutes, and for a solid six hours. She’d been nicknamed Aunt Ambien for a reason.
There was no one better to keep an eye on her while I rushed off to the greenhouse to gather the chamomile, mint, lavender, and rose petals for the new batch of products.
I’d worked myself to exhaustion for the two months leading up to Cammy’s birth, wanting to be able to have a solid two months with her without worry.
But the time was wearing thin.
And I had to get back to work.
I had maybe been in the greenhouse for twenty minutes when the door opened, bringing with it the chill of the early spring air.
“Where is Barren?” I asked, finding Ranger moving inside with me, shrugging out of his jacket, rolling up his sleeves, ready to help.
It never seemed to matter how much work he already had to handle, he was always happy to pitch in on my projects as well.
“With his uncle,” Ranger told me, moving inward.
Ah, his uncle.
Miller’s man.
And, boy, was that a story too.
But one for another time.
“Does he know you left? You know how worried…”
My words trailed off as Ranger moved in behind me, arms circling around my belly, chin resting on the top of my head.
“You haven’t had a minute to yourself in months. Don’t go worrying about things that are already handled,” he told me, giving me a squeeze to soften the blow of the words.
“I’m behind on orders.”
“Mm-hm,” he agreed, chin leaving my head as he leaned down, pressed a kiss into the side of my neck. “And they can wait another hour or so,” he told me as his hands moved from my waist, sliding up to cover my breasts gently.
“The greenhouse is partially see-through,” I reminded him as desire – so long suppressed – welled up in my core.
“Yeah. And I’d worry about that if we weren’t five acres away from anyone who might be looking.”
“This living in the woods things sure has its perks, huh?” I asked, leaning back into him as his hands slid down my belly, slipped between my thighs. His hardness was pressing into my butt, and in a moment of absolutely shameless need, I moved up on my tiptoes, arching my backend up to allow him to press where I needed it most.
It was easy at times, with small children, with a home to take care of, with pets to love on, with outdoor work to do, it was easy for us to neglect ourselves, to neglect us.
Ranger was always better at finding the balance, remembering to pull me into the kitchen to share a pressed cup of coffee with me, make me calm down, take a moment to enjoy life before I rushed off to handle a crazy day. To grab all the files of paperwork off my lap, toss them off the bed, then curl me into his side, regaling me with stories about Blue – Red’s offspring – and the damage he had done to his legs and arms and just about any bit of flesh he could sink his beak into.
And, of course, this.
His hands gently slid down my pants, my panties, and within a few moments, he was inside me, reminding me of the us we sometimes forgot.
He came with me a few minutes later, my head on his shoulder, his arms around me, both our gazes looking down the mountain our woods were situated on, seeing the endless trees in the distance below.
Our old home.
Perfect.
So perfect.
“Guess what?” he asked a second later as we slowly came back down.
“What?”
“Betty just gave birth to Gadget’s babies.”
“My baby having babies,” I said, feeling my heart swell up, overflow, like it so often did. Taking a deep breath, I leaned back into Ranger, moving my arms up to twine around the back of his neck. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked, rubbing his bearded chin playfully across the top of my head.
“For everything,” I told him, feeling it from somewhere deep in my soul.
His lips pressed to the side of my head, and I could feel the smile there as his hands moved upward, wrapping around the upper part of my chest, my grandfather’s ring catching my eye, making me reach out to stroke it.
