Page 175 of Where We Stay

I pull on a chunky cream sweater with dark-wash jeans, thick socks and brown ankle boots. My camel coat and plaid scarf should keep me warm, while my gold hoops and loose waves make it look like I’ve put in at least a little effort.

Cozy, practical and still cute enough that Dean will hopefully notice.

His truck pulls into the driveway as I help Aspen into her dusty-pink coat.

“Your dad’s here, babe. Go put your boots on.”

Aspen races off and returns wearing boots that match mine because apparently we’re twinning today.

A knock sounds at the front door.

I look down at her. “Does your dad know this is his house?”

Aspen giggles as I open the door to find Dean standing there with two enormous bouquets—sunflowers for me and pink tulips for Aspen.

“Why did you knock?” I ask, fighting a smile.

Dean raises a brow. “Because I’m picking my girls up for a date.”

Oh.

This fucking man.

“Wow! Thank you, Daddy!” Aspen squeals, throwing her arms around Dean’s waist.

He bends down and hands her the tulips. “These are for you, baby girl.”

“I’m putting them in my room!” she announces before racing down the hallway.

Dean holds the sunflowers out to me. “And these are for my other girl.”

“They’re stunning.” I take them from him, my chest aching in the best possible way. “Thank you, my love.”

I lean up and kiss him, deep and hard, almost forgetting Aspen is only down the hallway.

Dean groans against my mouth before pulling back. “Tonight, baby. You can thank me properly tonight.”

He gives my ass a gentle swat, sending heat straight through me.

“Promises, promises,” I murmur.

* * *

Our surprise date turns out to be a sunset picnic at the lighthouse.

The place has always been important to Dean and Aspen, and somehow, it’s become important to me too. After everything I told Dean here, bringing me back and filling it with something happy feels so thoughtful I could cry.

I don’t, though.

Honestly, I’m sick of fucking crying.

Dean has gone all out. A thick blanket covers the grass, surrounded by pillows and extra blankets for when the temperature drops. The picnic basket is overflowing with pastries from the Coast Café, fruit, cheese and crackers, along with a thermos of hot chocolate and enough marshmallows to send Aspen into a sugar coma.

The afternoon sun hangs low over the ocean, but the wind coming off the water already has a bite to it.

He’s well and truly outdone himself.

“Bit dangerous setting this kind of expectation, isn’t it?” I tease, leaning over to kiss him. “Now I’m going to want this every week.”