“I love you,” he whispers, leaning in to take my lips again.
“I love you too.”EpilogueRachelSix Months LaterThere are more people here than I imagined there would be. It’s crazy! The Larder is packed to the gills and people are waiting outside in a line.
The rush to get the restaurant open in time has been a huge project, but it was worth it. Both Clayton and I want the restaurant to be established and running smoothly by the time the next tourist season comes around.
After I turned the kitchen around at the ranch, and the standard of food became far higher, Clayton asked me if I wanted to start a real restaurant with full creative control. He had the place picked out, the business plan, everything. Said it was his wedding gift to me.
So today we’re here at The Larder in Jackson. It’s the grand opening, and I didn’t expect this kind of turnout. But we’re featuring Rocking R Beef, and the word of mouth about the resort food is enough to make people curious.
Clayton weaves through the crowd toward me, and I smile the way I always do when I see my husband. No matter what, just seeing him brightens my day. He doesn’t stop when he reaches me, tucking an arm around my waist and pulling me around the corner. “Hi.”
“Everything’s almost ready,” he says. “Are you sure about this?”
I roll my eyes. We’ve had this conversation before, but he keeps checking in with me. It’s sweet.
“Yes, honey, I’m sure.”
Even though I designed the menu and did the development of all the food, I’m not the head chef at The Larder. That title goes to Martin. He’s actually a great chef who has risen to the task.
Being the chef here would mean a long commute, and a lot of time away from Clayton. And being that we’re still newlyweds, that’s the last thing that I want. Aside from that, the shiny new Michelin star that the Rocking R Ranch just earned made it easy to want to stay there.
I am aiming for two stars next year.
“This will be good for him, and I’d rather be with you.”
He smiles and kisses me on the forehead. “You’re too kind.”
“I think I’m just right,” I say. “Besides, we need to get back before all the jam is gone. I heard from Leslie that they didn’t make much today.”
A wicked grin appears on his face. “That’s true. We need to have them make extra for winter, because I’m not going six months without that jam.”
“You know there are other things to eat, right?”
“I do, but jam will always be my favorite,” he says.
I grip his shirt and pull him closer. “We need to eat, and then…”
Clayton raises an eyebrow. “You know we have plans. You’re not getting out of it.”
I blush, lowering my voice. “Yes, sir.”
“Fucking hell,” he breathes. “You know what that does to me.”
“Yes I do, now let’s get out of here.”
He looks at me for a moment. “You’re in an awful hurry.”
I glance away. “I want to get to those plans, and I’m hungry. I need regular meals now since I’m eating for two now.”
Clayton freezes. Then he gasps. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes,” I say, already tearing up. “I just found out this morning.”
“Holy shit.” He crushes me to the wall and consumes me in a kiss that I’m sure is smudging my lipstick, and I couldn’t give less of a damn. “We’re having a baby.”
“We are.”
“Let’s get out of here,” he says, grabbing my hand. “My wife needs the exact food that she wants.”
I’m laughing as he pulls me through the crowd and away toward home.* * *I writhe as another wave of pleasure hits me. I have no idea how long I’ve been like this, bound face-down to the bed, blindfolded and gagged, a vibrator between my legs.
Clayton finally brought to life the fantasy that he spun for me the first week that we were together. And I am not good at it. He sets me up on the bed, tied at my ankles and wrists, with the vibrator positioned between my legs. And every time we’ve tried this, despite his instructions not to come, I spend the time consumed by multiple orgasms. I can’t help it.
As soon as we returned from The Larder, we ate a delicious meal and then he carried me back to our house in his arms. He was bursting with pride about the fact that I was pregnant, but he was not about to let me lapse on the lesson he was teaching me on self-control, even if I moaned and begged him to let me stop for the night.
“Absolutely not,” he said, eyes dark as he carried me over the threshold again. “Every day, Rachel. Every fucking day until you make it.”
“What if I never make it?” I whispered, heart already pounding.