“I’m going to take such good care of you, Miranda Cortland.” Damien’s expression went all serious again and I felt a little awed to think his feelings for me were darn fierce, too.
I think I was only just beginning to understand what it might be like to be loved by a passionate, honorable, forever guy like Damien.
“I’m going to take such good care of you right back. You wait and see.”
“Does that mean I get to take you home now?” He kissed my cheek and then captured my lips.
Our kiss was long, slow and deep. It left me breathless. It left me wanting. It left me anticipating every second of the future at his side.
“That means you can’t drive fast enough for me,” I teased, nipping his lower lip.
Gently, he settled me in the passenger seat, buckled me in and revved the engine.
“Just watch me.” That flash of white teeth in the dim truck interior made me smile.
By the time we peeled out of the parking lot of the Sea Wind hotel, I was giggling with joy and the knowledge that I was going home with my Mr. Right and I was about to get very lucky.
Scratch that.
My luck had started right about the time my car broke down on Highway 1.
Epilogue
Six Months Later
“DO YOU THINK it was a mistake to open on Wine Country Weekend?” Miranda asked for the tenth time, after she’d seated a third shift of afternoon tea patrons. “I’m so embarrassed to have people come for tea and not take a seat until six o’clock.”
Tea Under the Oaks was packed with shoppers, diners and browsers, the crowd spilling out onto the porch and lawn, where gardens spread from the farm stand property well onto land that used to be Thoroughbred pasture. But since the tearoom was a joint holding, Damien didn’t mind.
Actually, he’d tried to sell her that farm stand multiple times, to assure his fiancée that she would always have something that was just hers. But she didn’t seem to need that kind of security. These days, she thrived like her gardens, her bonsai trees and everything else she touched.
“You wanted lots of traffic. You got it.” Damien drew her away from the hostess stand at the front of the tearoom, needing two minutes alone with her. “Come on. Stop for a minute and admire what you’ve done here, okay? Joelle can handle this. She’s an old pro.”
Miranda’s friend winked at him as she stepped up to take over the role, only too glad to celebrate the grand opening of the tearoom. Patrons from Joelle’s tearoom had made a trek, as if Tea Under the Oaks was some new mecca. Violet Whiteman had tweeted the details to her slew of followers, and tea drinkers from miles around responded to the call. Trey’s wife, Courtney, had brought some friends from the wealth management firm where she worked, too.
In fact, Miranda had so many supporters through friends and family, she hardly had room for the huge influx of Sonoma County tourists on Wine Country Weekend.
“How can I leave when I have so much to do?” she protested, but walked with him, chattering nervously, waving to newcomers and making kissy-faces at babies held by a few customers wandering around out front.
“You don’t want to miss this, trust me.” Damien kept walking until he had her perfectly positioned, centered in front of the lawn. Then he turned her so she could face her creation. “You see?” He pointed up at the building, which was painted, primped and decked out exactly as she’d imagined. “It looks just like the picture you drew.”
Right down to the banner flapping in a lazy summer breeze.
“Only now there are people in it.” She sighed and leaned into him, her head fitting comfortably against his shoulder. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
“You’re perfect,” he argued, kissing her hair—blond these days, with streaks of pink or baby blue, depending on her mood. Depending on whether she thought she was carrying a girl or a boy, their first baby.
She wasn’t due for seven months, but she was already planning and dreaming. Damien wondered if any of her friends understood what those streaks in her hair meant.
He liked being able to read her moods. Liked being able to see the changes she made to their house and the farm every day. And he really, really liked helping her work on her erotic novel.
“It won’t be this busy every day,” she told him suddenly, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Once things are running smoothly, I’ll hire more help.”
“That’s good. I don’t want you getting tired out.” He nodded at a few potential Thoroughbred buyers who’d stopped in the tearoom.