The Way To A Man's Heart - Frankie Love Page 0,108
The idea of more kids now doesn’t scare me. It excites me. Family is everything.”
“Well what are you waiting for, Pops?” Billy asks. “Go ask the girl to marry you.”
Chapter Fourteen
Lucia
I’ve just finished my chores, and I’m filthy dirty from the garden. My hands need to be scrubbed, not to mention I need to cool off. The late August sun was relentless today. But first, I need to eat something.
Stripping off my jeans and tank top, I open the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of icy white wine. I pour myself a glass, then I pop open a jar of my pickles and take a bite of the crunchy sweetness.
There’s a knock on the door as I’m groaning in pleasure. God, these taste so good. I push the curtains over, looking through the door, surprised to see Logan there.
I pull open the door, not expecting him for another hour. “Am I missing the fun?” he asks with a smile. “All the moaning in here made me wonder.”
I laugh, offering him my jar of pickles. “Not quite orgasmic,” I say, “but still pretty tasty.”
He takes the jar and plucks one and eats it. With a moan, he takes another. “Okay, this puts the bread in my butter.”
“I don’t know what that means, but I agree.” I smile, pointing to the wine. “Want some?” He nods and I turn my back to him and pour him a glass at the counter. “So is there a reason you came by early? I mean, I don’t mind, it’s just I have to shower still.”
“I should have called. I didn’t want to wait.”
“Wait for what?” I ask, turning to face him.
But I have to look down. Because Logan Barton is on one knee.
A black velvet box is open in his hand, and a gorgeous diamond ring is perched inside. My heart flip-flops and tears fill my eyes.
“Oh God.”
“A good oh God, or a bad one?” He lifts his eyebrow.
“A good one.” I set the wine on the table and get down on my knees, meeting him face-on.
“Marry me, Lucia, let me knock you up half a dozen times. Let me build you a farmhouse, a big one, with a wide porch. Let me put a swing in the oak tree and push you at dusk. Give me a reason to get up in the morning that’s about more than corporate meetings. Be my wife, my lover, my heart.”
“Oh Logan,” I say. “You mean it?”
He takes my hand and slips the ring on my dirty ring finger and tears flood my eyes, my heart brimming with happiness. “I’m a man of my word. And I love you. Do me the honor of being my wife? Be my butter half.”
I fling my arms around him. “God, I’m a mess,” I say. “I was in the garden all afternoon and—”
“Then come on, baby. Let’s clean you up.”
Logan pulls me from the floor and picks me up. I wrap my legs around him, and he squeezes my ass, carrying me to the bathroom. “In our farmhouse, we’re gonna make an extra big bathroom, you know that, right? I’m thinking a double shower, jacuzzi tub.”
“I’ll need a big bathroom to hide in when the kids drive me crazy,” I say, laughing at the insanity of it all. The magic of it all.
Kismet.
Epilogue 1
Logan
One year later…
I’ve been in the yard all morning mowing. When I walk toward the farmhouse, with my shirt sleeves rolled up and wiping the sweat from my brow, my singular mission is jumping in the shower to clean up.
But I’m interrupted by the best sight in the whole damn world. My wife, Lucia, rocking our daughter Lauralie to sleep on the front porch swing. She’s singing our girl a lullaby and her voice melts me, heart and soul. All of her does though. I love my wife more than life itself.
“There room for one more?” I ask her. She smiles, moving aside a blanket so I can sit. “Don’t want to wake her.”
“Oh, she’s out cold,” Lucia says. “I’m gonna put her down in her crib, I think she will nap for a few hours.”
“Newborns are the best sleepers,” I say, remembering Kourtney and Billy when they were babies. God, time flies. I make a promise to myself for the thousandth time not to take a second of it for granted. Life has very few guarantees. But the ones I get, I won’t let slip by without notice.