I walk back over to Evie, holding the second-best thing I ever did in my arms. The first best thing was stopping to change Evie’s flat tire in the bar parking lot that warm fall night. And the mayhem that ensued was the icing on the big old shit cake that brought me to my happily ever after.

“Eight pounds twelve ounces,” I say to Evie as I walk close to her. She looks exhausted, and the flush on her cheeks is high. The nurse takes her legs out of the stirrups and arranges the blankets around her.

“You going to hog her all night, or are you going to let me hold her?” Evie arches a brow at me.

I rest a hip on the edge of the bed. “Nope. She’s all mine. We’ll have to make another one so you can have one of your own.”

“You had better give me that baby, Grady Parker,” she says, as she raises her fist to punch my shoulder.

“See there, Mommy is already threatening Daddy’s life,” I say, baby-talking to the little one in my arms. “She tends to get violent when she doesn’t get what she wants. Fair warning.”

I lean close so I can put our daughter into her arms. “She’s quite something, isn’t she?” Evie whispers hoarsely, a tear trailing down her cheek. I climb up to sit shoulder to shoulder with her and we stare down at the little bundle in her arms. “Do you think I’m too old for another one?” she asks.

I scratch my head. “Do you think you’re too old for another one?”

“I want one more,” she says quietly, as a tear rolls down her cheek. “Do you want one more?”

“I want whatever you want.” I kiss her temple again, and she reaches out a hand to cup the side of my face. Her thumb wipes away a tear I didn’t even know was sliding down my cheek. I’ll always do whatever it takes to make her happy.

“Did you call Grandma and check on Pepper?” Evie suddenly asks. “And did Junior go by and feed the cats?”

“Evie, we just left them six hours ago,” I remind her. “I fed the cats before we left. They’re fine.”

“And Pepper?” We picked up the poodle from the Fallwells the day that they called to say she was ready to leave her mother. Evie had fallen head over heels for her. She’s about sixty pounds now, and she often fell asleep on Evie’s stomach as the baby grew. “Pepper is going to be a good big sister.”

I snort out a laugh. “I certainly hope so, seeing as how she’s shit at hunting.” I suck in a breath. “And for what it’s worth, Pepper is out in the waiting room lying at Ms. Markie’s feet, since Ms. Markie couldn’t stand waiting at home.”

Evie did all the canine good citizen classes with Pepper so that she could be certified to visit nursing homes and hospitals. She has a little vest and everything.

Evie laughs suddenly. She slips her finger into our daughter’s fist and waves it toward me. “Your daddy is the guy with the poodle!” She points toward me and laughs. She looks down at our daughter. “All the other daddies have bird dogs or hound dogs, and your daddy has a poodle!” She laughs loud, almost hysterically.

“If you weren’t giving me shit, I would think you hate me,” I say as I lean over and kiss the tip of her nose.

She indicates the baby in her arms. “I gave you this!” she whispers, and a tear slips from the corner of her eye and rolls down the side of her nose. I lean close so she can wipe her face on my sleeve.

“I could argue that I gave you this,” I remind her, lifting my brows at her.

“When you push one of these out of your hoo-ha, you can call it a gift. Until then, you’re just that guy who got me pregnant. And who owns a poodle.”

We’re both laughing now. I reach out a finger toward our daughter’s other hand. Her hand wraps tightly around my finger, and now she’s holding onto both Mommy and Daddy. And my whole world just experienced a seismic shift.

35

Evie

Grady sits next to me, shoulder to shoulder, and he stares down into our daughter’s face. “I think she looks like me,” he says.

“She does have an obscenely large forehead, doesn’t she?” I stare down at her too. To be honest, she’s about as perfect as they come. Her forehead is perfect, and her toes are perfect. I know because I peeked so I could count them. She wraps her long fingers around my index finger. “Piano player or basketball?” I ask him, as I stare at those long fingers.

“Neither,” he says, shaking his head. “Maybe she’ll be an artist.”

“She’ll be the best finger painter there ever was,” I whisper fiercely to her. I lay my head on Grady’s shoulder, and he tips his face so that it touches the crown of my head. “You want to go out and tell all of them that she’s here?”

He nods and heaves out a breath. “I can if you want me to.”

“We probably should.”

But he doesn’t move. He sits there quietly with me, as we both stare at her. “I’m glad you had that flat tire,” he says quietly, his voice a mere rumble in the stillness of the room.

Tags: Tammy Falkner Lake Fisher Romance
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