Her All Along Page 35

  Conveniently when Hazel was finished eating hers. I set down the bottle and adjusted the towel over my shoulder, because some of the milk would make a reappearance soon.

  “This was such a good idea,” Elise groaned. “If only I didn’t get so damn tired.”

  I did notice she became winded quicker, and I suspected one of the reasons she’d wanted to push Hazel’s stroller was so she could lean a bit on the handle. Meanwhile, Hazel was tucked away in the basket, awning up, windscreen up, surrounded by blankets, and fast asleep.

  “If only you didn’t push yourself too hard,” I replied with a smirk.

  She was adorable every time she scowled, but add rosy cheeks from the cold, a knitted beanie that matched the one Grace wore, and mittens, and it was impossible to keep from grinning at her.

  “Daddy, look! There’s still snow here!”

  I glanced over at Grace, who’d found the remnants of a snow pile that someone had shoveled from their driveway.

  “What you did with our snow pile was much cooler,” I commented.

  She smiled widely. “I made so many snowmen.”

  A village of them, even.

  Slowly but surely, we made our way through the district, bypassing the small town center, and took a brief break when we reached Mary and James’s house so Pipsqueak could go to the bathroom.

  When we finally reached the marina, we were all starving, and my wife was just a tad cranky.

  A tad, she agreed to. I wouldn’t dare speak against her.

  I could count on Darius, thankfully. He had no such qualms. As soon as we’d greeted each other at the bar, he turned to his sister.

  “The fuck are you even doing running around?” he asked, frowning. “It’s bad enough that you couldn’t go on a real maternity leave.”

  “Not you, too!” she complained.

  “Thank you,” I mouthed to him.

  “The fuck!” Grace laughed.

  Fuck!

  Darius and I winced, predicting Elise’s pointed glare before it appeared. She already blamed us for Grace’s language. Sometimes a “damn” or “shit” slipped out. This was her first time saying fuck.

  “That’s not a Grace word, trooper,” Darius told our girl. “You leave that to the adults, ya hear?”

  “I think it’s best I talk to her,” Elise replied with her best fuck-you smile. It was a sight. “Is our usual table ready?”

  Darius had one of those smiles too, and he deployed it with practiced ease. “That one doesn’t fly with me, sunshine. Yeah, your table is ready. And yeah, you need to fucking unclench. You get unhappy when you try to control everything.”

  He wasn’t wrong.

  Perhaps when I tried to tell her the same thing, I wrapped it up too nicely. I needed to be more blunt like her brothers sometimes.

  I could tell the words had affected Pipsqueak, and she’d come to me about it soon. For now, she ignored her brother and pushed Hazel toward the dining area.

  Grace followed, in the middle of tearing off her mittens.

  “Thanks for having my back, buddy.”

  He inclined his head. “No worries. She doesn’t break easily, though. Don’t be afraid to knock her on her ass when she needs it.”

  I knew he was right. Elise and I handled fights well, I thought. Sometimes they became heated, but we shared the same goal—to come to an understanding. But I did hold back on occasion, because I didn’t like seeing her overwhelmed, and fights overwhelmed her. At the same time, she responded best to bluntness and tough love. It was a tricky balance.

  Add postpartum hormones to that…

  I joined my girls a minute later, and I urged Pipsqueak to order herself a glass of wine while I peered into Hazel’s fortress of protection. I should’ve known that Elise had already removed some of the baby’s layers.

  She was still asleep. Christ, I couldn’t believe how easy she was.

  “If you’re sure…” Elise trailed off, scanning the wine list.

  One glass wouldn’t fucking hurt. Besides, we had enough breast milk in the freezer to last a week.

  “Server’s coming, hon,” Elise said. “You want your usual?”

  “Yeah—and a beer, thanks. You know what I like.”

  Grace busied herself with the coloring book and crayons Elise had brought for her, and I waited until the server had left again before I gathered Elise’s hands in mine across the table.

  She adopted a sheepish expression, which meant she was thawing. She knew she was off course.

  “I can’t do everything,” she murmured.

  “No, you can’t.” I kissed her knuckles.

  She blew out a breath.

  She was still processing all the changes we’d seen in the past several months, so I waited her out patiently. When our drinks arrived, I took a swig of my beer and reminded Grace not to drink her juice too quickly. Or to fill up on too much bread. To this day, one of her favorite meals was the free bread sticks Darius served here.

  He was endearingly cocky about it.

  For a man who claimed he didn’t like children or ever wanted any of his own, he was a terrific uncle.

  “Ave, how do you stay so calm through everything?”

  I leaned back in my seat and shrugged a little. “I don’t believe it will do any good to get worked up.” That was one factor, at least. “I also know that with you—with the two of us—there’s nothing we can’t handle in the long run, and I’m not afraid of hiccups along the road.”

  The corners of her lips twisted up, almost reluctantly. As if she wasn’t ready to smile yet.

  “One more thing,” I said. “You can’t be forced to reach a conclusion. You have to get there yourself—or you’ll get overwhelmed and unsettled. I don’t mind waiting.” I paused. “I, uh, I will, however, take a page from Darius’s book and be a bit more straightforward in the future.” As I raised a brow and smirked, she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  She grinned and blushed. “It’s freakishly annoying sometimes that you know me better than I do.”

  “Turnabout is fair play,” I chuckled.

  “I guess so.” She bit her lip and raised her wineglass. “To life’s little hiccups, Mister?”

  I smiled and clinked my beer to her glass. “To us, Pipsqueak.”

  “I wanna toast toooo!” Grace protested.

  “Of course, sweetheart.” Elise was quick to clink their glasses together. “To our whole family. We’re the best, aren’t we?”

  I saw Grace’s response coming from a mile away with the way mischief lit up her eyes.

  “Shit yes!”

  More from Cara

  In Camassia Cove, everyone has a story to share

  Darius

  Finn

  Ethan

  Ryan

  Willow

  Lias & Evelina

  * * *

  Cara freely admits she’s addicted to revisiting the men and women who yammer in her head, and several of her characters cross over in other titles. If you enjoyed this book, you might like the following.

  Auctioned (Darius’s story)

  MM | Suspense Romance | Hurt/Comfort | Trauma

  At twenty-one, Gray Nolan became a human trafficking statistic. He and seven other young men were taken aboard a luxurious yacht where they would be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Tortured, shattered, and almost defeated, he watched his new owner step out of the shadows in a swirl of his own cigarette smoke.

  Dirty Chef

  MF | Friends to Lovers | Comedy | Foodporn | Standalone

  Friends. Roommates. Business partners. Alessia dreams of love and starting a family with the man she runs Coho Bar & Grill with, but she’s under the impression that Adam has a type. Tall, thin, and gorgeous. She believes she’s none of those things. Adam knows better, and he’s slowly losing his damn mind around Alessia. Despite having so much to lose, he’s about to risk it all.

  Touch: The Complete Series (Ryan’s story gets told here)

  MF, MFM, MM
| BDSM | S/M | Daddykink

  Seven novels and novellas, several outtakes and future takes, and one epilogue. Touch: The Complete Series is your not-so-little black book of kink. Meet Nicholas Ford, club owner and Daddy Dom, who can’t resist Kayla, the forbidden fruit. Mark Cooper is a Master and works the bar, and in his story he’s tasked with introducing two subbies in the lifestyle. He just might keep them both to himself. Rio Kelly, a high-protocol Master, sees a ghost from his past in the club one night. A girl he’s never been able to forget. A girl on a mission to serve. And Cade Kingsley may be a rough-around-the-edges Daddy Dom who scares off some subbies, but he wears his heart on his sleeve, and when two Little hearts need mending, he’s there.

  The series originally consisted of six kinky love stories: Look but Don’t Touch, Twice the Touch, A Touch to Surrender, Comforting Touch, and Touching Ink. Now they’ve been reworked and prettied up, and they’re published together with a dozen outtakes as well as the new novella, Touching Truth, that follows masochist Greg, sadistic Daddy Ryan, and switchy baby girl Angel.

  Breaking Free

  MF | Hollywood Romance | Age Difference | Drama | Hurt/Comfort

  Tennyson Wright has managed to avoid the games and power plays of Hollywood for years—until he arrives on set for the new film he’s directing. To gain more publicity, the studio decides a PR relationship is in order, and the only candidates are the antisocial director himself—much to Tennyson’s horror—and the rich, spoiled, much younger party princess Sophie Pierce. There’s a lesson to learn for both of them, but they’re not off to a great start.

  * * *

  Check out Cara’s entire collection at www.caradeewrites.com, and don’t forget to sign up for her newsletter so you don’t miss any new releases, updates on book signings, free outtakes, giveaways, and much more.

  About Cara

  I’m often awkwardly silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex.

  There’s a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly.

  Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve.

  I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.

  Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.

  I'm a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, cooking, baking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and family, too. But mostly, I just love to write.

  ~Cara.

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