Rock-a-Bye, Baby

I ran my thumb over the thick platinum band circling his finger. “It’s not like I can argue since part of the reason why I went along with you rushing me to the altar was that I was looking forward to marking you as my own too.”

His arms dropped, and he circled around me. “I hadn’t planned on showing you this particular gift until we were alone later, but you just gave me the perfect opening.” He lifted his shirt over his head and flashed me a wicked grin.

My gaze dropped to his bare chest, and it took me a long moment before what I was seeing registered in my brain. “You tattooed my name on your chest?”

“Fuck, yeah. I’ve been meaning to get it done for a while now, but I was waiting for the guy who does all my ink to come up with the perfect design.” He gestured at the red heart that had my name etched on it in black and music flowing through it. “Maddox came up with this last week, just in time for our anniversary.”

I was blown away by the sight and could only say, “I love it.”

“You’d better, ‘cause you’re going to be seeing it for the rest of your life.”

I grinned but then it fell when I glanced around and noticed a few other people admiring his naked chest as well. “You can show me again later,” I told him while tugging on his shirt. Griffith laughed and pulled it back on before swaggering off to steal our daughter from Knox.

As I watched him hold her, Ariel turned to me and said, “I dare you to get Griffith’s name tattooed on you.”

I rolled my eyes and started to walk away when she put a hand on my arm. Her smile was wicked when she said, “I double dog dare you.”

“Well, crap. Did you really have to pull out the big guns right off the bat?” I muttered. Double dog dares were taken seriously by the Dawson sisters. It was almost impossible for the recipient to get out of the challenge.

Ariel’s grin was smug as she answered, “Yup, otherwise you’d never do it.”

“Fine, but I can’t bring Griffith with me, so you’re up,” I huffed.

My sister shrugged and agreed, “Sure, why not? It might be fun to see you get a tattoo.”

Epilogue

Griffith

5 years later

“Happy birthday, Daddy!”

Cyra jumped up and down on the bed, clapping her little hands with barely contained excitement. Her two-year-old brother, Brand, copied her movements with a toothy grin.

“It’s my birthday?” I gasped dramatically, making them both giggle and fall over on the mattress. Belle stood to the side of the bed, smiling and holding a tray of breakfast. “Alright kids, let’s give Daddy his special breakfast.”

Cyra scrambled to her feet and started jumping again. “Presents first! Presents!”

“Yeah! Pwezence!” yelled Brand.

I shrugged at Belle with mock helplessness. “I guess we better do presents fast, before I starve.” I swept my eyes over her and smirked. “Besides, waking up alone on my birthday made me hungry for an entirely different breakfast.” Her cheeks dusted with pink, and she shook her head in a failed attempt at being exasperated.

She set the tray on the bedside table and walked to our closet. I snatched a piece of bacon, breaking it in half and giving one to each kid before grabbing another piece for me.

When she reemerged, she had a large, rectangular package, a small square box, and a matching one that was slightly larger.

Cyra and Brand were jumping up and down again, making me laugh. I made a grab for both of them and pulled them down, one on each side of me. “You guys want to help?”

They shouted yes, and as soon as Belle put the largest present in my lap, they tore into the wrapping paper. Once the plain box was revealed, I opened it and grinned at the contents. “Is this the 1960 Gibson Les Paul Standard I was looking at?”

Belle had climbed onto the bed and pulled Brand into her lap so she could sit next to me as well. She nodded, her smile brilliant and happy.

I leaned over and gave her a sweet kiss before murmuring, “Thank you, baby.” Then I looked it over almost reverently. I’d been salivating over this particular vintage guitar for years. “How the fu—” I paused when she tilted her head towards Brand and glared—"heck did you convince the owner to sell?” I’d made at least a dozen offers and been turned down each time.

Belle smirked. “I have my ways.”

I quirked an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

“Auntie Lia beat his pants off!” Cyra announced, referring to our friend Becket’s wife, who was a Poker World Champion.

Belle chuckled and nodded. “Turned out the guy was big into poker. Lia offered to play him, and he jumped at the chance to prove he was worthy of the pros.” Belle proceeded to tell me the story of how Lia took a few easy ones, then let him win a few, basically pumping his ego. Eventually, when he was overconfident, she talked him into betting the guitar. Then she wiped the table with him. By the time Belle was done with the story, I was laughing my ass off.