Page 101 of Take Me Home

“Not an apartment.” Otto raises his bushy gray brows. “A barndominium.”

He’s so serious that a laugh bubbles out of me. “Sorry…barndominium.”

“Dad, you’ve got to stop calling it that.” Hank rolls his eyes.

“No, I like it.” I nudge Otto with my elbow, and he grins.

The four of us walk back out to the living area. The November sky is just starting to grow darker as day turns to twilight.

Hank drags a hand through his hair, his gaze shifting between me and Lincoln. “Well, Dad and I are going to head out. We thought you might like some quiet time, so there’s takeout from Bobcat’s in the fridge.”

I throw my arms around Hank, then do the same to Otto. “Thank you both so much. It’s perfect.”

The two of them bashfully accept my thanks, then let themselves out.

I turn around and find Lincoln leaning against my kitchen counter, his thumbs hooked through his belt loops, a naughty smirk playing on his lips.

Slowly, I walk toward him. He watches me, his gaze darkening with every step I take. For the last two weeks, I’ve slept on an air mattress in Hank’s office as the guest cabin is under construction. Which means for two weeks, I’ve hardly had a moment alone with Lincoln. I feel every second of that time buzzing through my body now that we’re finally alone.

Before I reach him, he pushes off the counter and in one stride he’s in front of the kitchen window that faces Hank’s cabin. Lincoln closes the blind with a swift tug on the string, then moves across the room and does the same to the living room windows.

I watch in amusement as he works. “Why are you closing those? I wanted to see the stars.”

He meets my gaze and looms toward me, gripping my waist until my ass hits the countertop. Lincoln stands between my legs, his warm hands moving under my shirt and touching my skin. “I’ll make you see stars, Princess. But not without privacy.”

I laugh against his mouth as he kisses me, the scruff of his beard grazing along my chin and stirring a delicious sensation inside me. He kisses my lips thoroughly, then moves his mouth to my neck.

“Are you hungry? We can eat dinner,” he whispers against my skin.

Closing my eyes as he kisses the sensitive skin where my neck meets my shoulder, I shake my head. “I can think of something even more delicious than takeout.”

He nips at my earlobe, then smiles at me. “Me too. Let’s start with dessert.”

Lincoln moves fast, hoisting me over his shoulder. I squeak in surprise, cherishing the rasp of his laughter as he hauls me to the bedroom.

Lincoln

ONE YEAR LATER

Pulling up to Marmot Elementary, I park and head toward the sidewalk where the kids exit after school. A group of the moms smile at me, but they don’t try to pull me into conversation.

The simple gold wedding band on my left hand has helped with that.

Last month, I married Hattie on a crisp October day in the pasture behind my family’s house—our pasture. The ceremony was simple, with the mountains and fall foliage as our backdrop. Hattie was gorgeous with her hair down and a formfitting white dress and fur cape. Blair, Poppy, and Tripp stood up with my bride, and Wayne, Owen, and Jackson with me. Hank walked Hattie down the aisle, and to Hattie’s surprise, her mother sat with our other guests as we promised to love and care for each other as long as we both shall live.

Their relationship is still strained, but with time, it’s gotten better.

I only have to wait a few minutes before the school bell rings and children happily fly through the doors and find their rides.

Tripp grins when he spots me, rushing over and grabbing onto my hand. He’s wearing jeans and his cowboy boots, with his Spirit backpack hanging on his back.

“Hey, Buddy,” I say. “You have fun at school today?”

As we walk to my pickup, he carries on a whole monologue about his day and how excited he is about his project coming up, where he gets to choose a historical figure and make a timeline of their life.

“I think I’m gonna make my timeline about Spirit,” he says with a serious nod.

I open the passenger door, and he steps up and gets buckled in his booster seat. “Spirit is cool, Bud. But I think you have to choose a human…one who’s not fictional.”