Screwdrivered (Cocktail 3)

Hank stayed in the barn, looking confused.

And I laughed as I straddled Clark moments later on the kitchen floor. Why ride a cowboy when you can ride a librarian?

Oh, the French toast? It was great . . . reheated an hour later.

Epilogue

Six months later

The sun shone clear and strong through the new windows that had been installed. Heat curled around my bare toes as I stood in the middle of the attic, brush in hand, staring at my canvas. I chewed at my thumbnail, thinking about what direction to take.

“Vivian?” I heard from below, and my body immediately knew which direction to take. “You up here, Sweets?”

He called me Sweets. Smiling, I called down to where I knew he was waiting by the steps. “Come on up.” He always waited until I gave him the okay; he didn’t like to bother me while I was working.

I’d created a studio that was filled with light and color. We’d added heating and cooling so I could work up here year-round, and I’d purchased oodles of supplies. I’d kept some of the dressed mannequins; the colors they wore had become an inspiration for me and helped me get back into this world.

Caroline and Simon had come up to visit a few months ago, and when I showed her what I’d been working on she’d flipped. She purchased two paintings on the spot for clients, and asked me for ongoing updates on new pieces. It seemed I had a new career.

I’d carefully packed up all of the paintings by Aunt Maude and sent them to Mr. Montgomery, who was overwhelmed but very grateful. That was their story, and I was glad that the paintings had found a new home.

Over my head in my home was a new roof, and two floors down was a newly restored staircase with a new balustrade. The woodwork throughout the house gleamed once more, the floors shone, and the front porch was hole free.

And the Legless Knight still stood proudly in the corner of our bedroom, watching the sea for pirates.

Clark had moved in almost immediately. Was it too soon? I don’t know, and I don’t care. I loved him so utterly and totally that I wanted him around all the time. I asked him, he agreed, and just like that, we were living together. And we’d taken over the master bedroom. It seemed fitting, and we needed the space, frankly. He had more tweed jackets than I’d realized. Turns out that cedar closet was pretty useful.

I heard a whinny from out back, and I crossed to the window to look out at the barn. Nina, a veterinary student who had taken over caring for the animals, was exercising Paul and Paula in the pasture. Hank was long gone. We saw him around town occasionally, usually with a big-boobed blonde. Clark always held me a little tighter and his hands were a little handsier when we ran into him. I liked that. Was it wrong in this day and age to want to feel possessed by a man? Who cares; I liked it. He owned my ass 100 percent.

I heard my librarian’s steps crossing the wide planked floors and he scooped his arms under my br**sts and kissed my neck. “I’m not bothering you, am I?” he murmured, his mouth nibbling at the curve of my shoulder. Goose bumps formed instantly, and I leaned back into him as his hands dipped lower and rested on my tummy. He was obsessed with the little bump there, which wasn’t so little anymore.

Oh yeah. Clark was going to have a house full of kids, if he had his way. And he had his way with me frequently. The hormones I was experiencing made me crave his touch even more than before this wonderful surprise happened.

The day he found out he was going to be a father, he pulled a ring out of the top drawer in the dresser, fell to his knees, and asked me to marry him. Then he passed out cold from excitement. When he woke a few moments later, lying with his head in my lap, he told me that he was the luckiest person on the planet.

Second luckiest.

“Vivian,” he said, my name always sounding so perfect when he said it. Only he got to call me that, and only he ever would.

“I’m hungry,” I said, suddenly famished. “Let’s get pizza and then go for a drive.”

“Butcher Block?”

“Aw yeah,” I answered, turning in his arms to clasp my hands behind his neck. “Then we can go park somewhere along the beach and make out like teenagers.”

“Impossible woman,” he whispered into my ear, pressing a kiss just beneath it and making me squeal.

“Come on, Clark, feed your impossible woman,” I said with a laugh, and we headed downstairs.

And after the pizza, we didn’t even wait to find a beach. We just put the convertible top up and f**ked just off the highway. That’s how this romance novel ends. And when my librarian pushed deep inside me and whispered the naughtiest, filthiest things imaginable about what he wanted to do to me?

It really was my own happily-ever-after.