The Other Side of Us - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,104

she said, her gaze dropping to his thighs.

“Like crazy. Take your clothes off.”

They undressed her together, his hands caressing each inch of skin as it was exposed. Finally they were lying chest to chest, hip to hip. The warmth of her supple body against his was like a benediction. He rubbed his cheek against hers and closed his eyes and simply lived in the moment, savoring her.

There were a lot of things that could go wrong between them. They still had to sort out who lived where. He needed to negotiate his divorce. She needed to rekindle her career.

A warm certainty came over him as he felt the rise and fall of her chest against his. It might get complicated. There might be days when there was more shade than light. But all of that was manageable. All that truly mattered was Mackenzie loved him, and he loved her.

He figured it was a pretty solid starting point. And then some.

“Those new tricks you mentioned...” Mackenzie murmured near his ear.

He smiled. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you patience is a virtue?”

“Virtue is highly overrated.”

She wrapped her arms and legs around him and proceeded to prove her point in the best possible way.

EPILOGUE

Two years later

THE SCREEN DOOR SLAMMED behind Mackenzie as she let herself into the house. She could hear music playing in the kitchen and she hastened her step, buzzing with anticipation. She couldn’t wait to show Oliver what she had in her purse.

The dogs must have heard the door because she was barely halfway down the long hall when they came running to greet her, Tinkerbell leading the charge. To be fair, neither Mr. Smith nor Strudel had much of a chance to beat her, Tinkerbell’s long legs giving her a distinct advantage. That was what came of having a Doberman for a father.

As always, Mackenzie found herself grinning like a loon as Tinkerbell butted her big, black head into Mackenzie’s belly, demanding an ear scratch. For as long as she lived, Mackenzie would never forget the day Strudel had given birth to Tinkerbell and her three siblings, all of whom had long since found good homes. She could still recall in vivid detail how stunned both she and Oliver had been when they inspected Strudel’s offspring and discovered that instead of long, thin dachshund bodies, courtesy of Mr. Smith, they had huge feet and pure black fur.

Oliver had been very quiet for a few minutes before admitting that before he packed up his wagon and drove south to Flinders, Strudel had been hanging out with Brutus, the Doberman who lived two streets over. Mackenzie had waited until the vet had confirmed their observation that Strudel had, indeed, produced four good-size Doberman-Schnauzer cross puppies before suggesting that Oliver might owe Mr. Smith an apology. A really big one.

To his credit, Oliver hadn’t hesitated, but every now and then Mackenzie liked to remind him of the many lectures he’d visited upon poor Mr. Smith leading up to Strudel whelping. In part because Oliver always came up with new and novel and hilarious ways to express his regret.

Dogs hard on her heels, Mackenzie entered the vast living area at the rear of their new home to find Oliver busy making dinner. Even though she was eager to share her news, she paused for a moment to appreciate the scene—her big, bad man, elbow-deep in spices and herbs, poring over a recipe book as though it held the key to life itself. He wore his hair a little shorter these days, but he hadn’t lost one iota of the appeal of the man who had knocked on her door two years ago. In fact, he’d only grown more appealing.

Once the divorce had been finalized eighteen months ago, he’d lost the tight look around his mouth, and the crease between his eyebrows had eased. The laugh lines in his face had taken over, and the inherent warmth and goodness and humor in him was now evident in every smile, every glance, every gesture.

God, she was lucky.

Never in a million years did she think she would say that about herself. Not after the accident. She’d counted herself supremely unlucky to have suffered that terrible year of pain and uncertainty. But without the crash and recovery, she wouldn’t have met Oliver, she wouldn’t have been ready for him, and she certainly wouldn’t have appreciated him. She wouldn’t have rediscovered Mary and her own passion for documentaries, either, or developed a growing appreciation for simply stopping and enjoying