something safe for me and then get an old junker to restore for fun.”
She sipped her coffee. “This all assumes I’m ready to think about you learning to drive. You’re still only fourteen.”
“And a half. I can get my learner’s permit in a year.” Hunter gave her a winning smile. “You said I could work for you this summer. I’m going to save all the money and put it toward a car.”
He was a kid with a plan, she thought, both pleased by his maturity and horrified that he was that old. What he didn’t know was that she and Garrick had already talked about enrolling him in a driver’s education class over the summer, so he could get the twenty-five-hour requirement out of the way before he joined JROTC in the fall.
As for buying a car, Garrick had some ideas about a safe vehicle for a sixteen-year-old. And when she’d started to hyperventilate about her little boy being all grown up, he’d reminded her that they still had plenty of time.
But she knew how quickly that time would pass. With luck, a year from today, she would be several months pregnant. Even if she wasn’t, she would still have Garrick, and that was more than she’d ever hoped for.
There was a knock at the front door, then the sound of a key in the lock. Garrick let himself in. He smiled when he saw them on the sofa.
“Merry Christmas,” he said as he walked toward them. “Joylyn and Chandler have just put the baby down and are hoping to grab a couple of hours of sleep before breakfast, if that works for you.”
“I said about eight thirty or nine,” Wynn told him, coming to her feet as he pulled her close. “They must be exhausted.”
“They are, but they’re happy, too.”
Mindful of Hunter in the room, Garrick kissed her lightly, then greeted her son.
“Excited about your presents?” Garrick asked.
Hunter eyed the impressive pile. “I am.” He yawned. “Maybe I’ll go back to bed for a couple of hours, too.” He glanced at her. “If that’s okay, Mom.”
“Sure.”
He got up and ambled toward the hall. When his bedroom door closed, Garrick pulled her close again and kissed her with a little more passion.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Happy. What about you?”
He smiled at her. “The same. So much so, I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep.”
“Me, too.”
“Let me get a cup of coffee, and we can go look at more real estate listings together.”
His offer might not sound romantic to some women, but for her, it was magical. Garrick took care of the details and worried about the people he loved. He’d promised to always have her back, and she knew that he would.
“Real estate listings sound like fun,” she said.
He put his arm around her and together they walked into the kitchen. Behind them the Christmas tree lights glowed, and in front of them was a happy future full of promise and love.
* * *
Keep reading for a special preview of The Vineyard at Painted Moon a brand-new story from #1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery!
Step into the vineyard as three women search for the perfect blend of love, family and wine.
Coming February 2021 from HQN Books
The Vineyard at Painted Moon
by Susan Mallery
CHAPTER ONE
“NOT THAT WHAT you’re wearing isn’t great, but the party starts in an hour.”
Mackenzie Dienes looked up from the grapevine she’d been studying, her mind still on the tight clusters of small, hard grapes that would, come late September, be ripe and sweet and ready for harvest. Between now and then, she would monitor their progress, willing them to greatness and protecting them from danger, be it mold, weather or hungry deer.
She blinked at the man standing in front of her, tall and familiar, with an easy smile and broad, capable shoulders.
“Party?” she asked, letting her thoughts of the vineyards go and remembering that, yes, indeed, it was the evening of the annual Solstice Party, hosted by the Barcellona family. As she was a Barcellona, by marriage if not by name, she would be expected to attend.
Wanted to attend, she reminded herself. It was always a good time, and Stephanie, her sister-in-law, worked hard to make it a perfect night.
“The party,” she repeated, her voice slightly more panicked this time, then glanced down at herself. “Crap. What time is it?”
Rhys, her husband, shook his head. “You really don’t listen when I talk, do you? We have an hour. You’ll be fine.”
She pulled