Max knew he had about two seconds to start talking before her brothers rushed him; he could already hear the protests they were about to make. “How was I going to accomplish that exactly, love?”
Erin looked at him with worried eyes. As she watched him, an unspoken connection passed between them and her eyes softened as her worry fled—as if she knew where he was going with this. She broke into a smile and said slowly, “You wouldn’t say. And I couldn’t figure it out. My brothers are smart and I told you so. I told you they didn’t have any debt—I saw no way you could back up what you were threatening to do. I thought you were bluffing but I was too worried about my family to call you on it.”
As he listened to her sweet voice, Max almost forgot her brothers were there. He was completely tantalized by her allure as he dropped to his haunches beside her. Holding her palm in his, his other hand snaked up and his fingers sank into her hair. Her eyes held his and he felt his heart turn over. He took a deep breath and finally, he came clean to her. “I was bluffing, sweetheart. I’ve got nothing on your brothers.”
He braced for her fury, thinking it was probably no more than he deserved. Instead, thank God, her eyes glistened with a sheen of happy tears. “You were bluffing?”
“I was bluffing.”
“So . . . if I go back with them, there’s nothing you can do to them?”
“There’s nothing I can do to them,” he admitted, bracing himself once again—just in case.
Her gaze was intent, compelling, and he felt an arrow of love pierce his heart, flowing from her eyes into his. In that moment, he knew without a doubt that she saw everything he had done, and that she knew everything that was in his heart. That she understood and all was forgiven. She watched him for about two seconds before she mouthed, “I love you.”
His heart twisted and he gave it back to her—for everybody to hear. “I love you, too, sweetness.”
He stood and drew her into his arms and they held each other as they heard the grudging admissions and final protests that came from her brothers as they talked among themselves.
“Shit—the motherfucker does love her—we’re going to have to let her stay.”
“Un-fucking-believable. Who could have guessed?”
“Erin, are you sure about this, sweetheart? You’re sure you want to stay with this guy, in Argentina, so far from your family?”
Max’s heart stuttered for a second, before Erin’s fierce, impassioned words calmed him and he was able to release the breath he’d unconsciously been holding. “Max is my husband, he’s my first consideration now—just like Maria, Angie and Courtney come first with you. I’m Erin Villarreal now, not Erin Rule any more. We’re happy, in love and married, and we’re staying married. I love you guys, but you have to let me go.”
The Rule males looked at each other for a long moment, communicating silently before their bodies relaxed infinitesimally as they conceded without words that their little sister had indeed grown up. That she wasn’t their responsibility any more. That she was now Erin Villarreal.
Max relaxed fully, his adoring, heated gaze fixed on his wife. Not even the dark threat in Garrett’s voice could affect him now. “This doesn’t mean we’re not watching you—remember what I said, Villarreal—you hurt her and we’ll come for you.”
Max looked into the other man’s eyes, even as his arms tightened around Erin. His wife. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
****
Epilogue
Three years later, after many happy trips to America
Erin brushed a kiss over the sleeping baby’s forehead as she laid Sofia down in her crib. Making a move to adjust the monitor, she stopped when she saw Marisol slip into the room. The other woman smiled and peeked over the crib before settling herself in the rocking chair that was positioned by the window. “Are you going to stay in here while she naps?” Erin asked in a whisper.
Marisol only smiled with a deeply contented expression on her face.
Erin smiled in return before bending down and hugging the older woman. There was no question that the housekeeper had been a lifesaver the last few years. Having children and raising them in Argentina would have been much more difficult without her. Max was certainly a good father, he was a lot of help, really, but tiny babies seemed to . . . scare him. Erin had to smile at the thought. Nothing really scared Max, although he’d seemed petrified when she’d gone into labor—both times.
She slipped downstairs to join her mother who was entertaining her two-year old son, Jorge Carlos. Justine glanced up from where she was sitting on the floor playing with toy trucks. “Did you get her down?”