Maker rolls over onto his side, propped up by his elbow, running his hand over my breast, cupping it softly. I look at him, his dark eyes that care. His beard and his chiseled body, tattoos telling stories I've never heard before.
"I want a baby. Two, three, four, maybe five," I tell him with a smile. "I want a family and I want to make dinner for them every night, and I want to tuck them into bed. All of them, the five babies and the husband."
"Separate beds, though, right?" Maker asks.
I nod with a grin. "Yeah, separate beds. And I want to wake up in the morning and I want to look out at the lake or the ocean, and I want to see big green trees over the cabin."
"It's a cabin, then, huh?"
I nod. "Yeah. I mean, I don't want to live in town, in Riverside. I want to live in the woods, and I want to have wildflowers and a garden." My voice hitches, and I feel tears brim in my eyes. I blink them back. "I'm sorry," I say, "I don't know why I'm getting emotional."
"I know why, baby," he says. "Because you're opening up your heart for what I think is the first time in your life. You're putting words to your dreams, dreams that scare you because what if you say it out loud and it doesn't come true?"
I nod tightly. "Yeah. That's exactly what I'm thinking. What I'm feeling."
"Tell me more," Maker says, turning my face to his. "Tell me what happens after you look out at the water, up at the big green trees. After you pick yourself up a bouquet of flowers and set them on the kitchen table. What happens next, baby?"
I smile, not brushing away the tears as they fall. "Then I make breakfast. My specialty," I say. "You haven't experienced it, yet, Maker, but I make a really good breakfast."
"I believe you," he says. "Tell me what you’d make."
I inhale, my whole body tight with nerves, and I let the breath out. I let those nerves fly away. I smile. "I make you pancakes."
"Me?" he says. "I'm in your hypothetical future?"
I lick my lips. "Would that be so bad?" I ask him, realizing I revealed more than I anticipated.
Maker looks at me, tucking back a strand of my hair, kissing my freckles, kissing my lips. "No, Marley Grove. That doesn't sound bad. That sounds like paradise."
Maker
When I wake in the morning, sunlight is streaming through the window and I look over at Marley as she stirs awake. She looks beautiful, the light filtering over her face, her freckles bright, her hair loose and tangled around her shoulders. She looks like an angel. My angel.
She presses her hand to my chest, her eyes blinking open. "I slept so hard," she says.
"You did," I say. "You've had a hard week?"
She shrugs. "I had a lot of shifts at the bar and grill this week and I actually have to work later this afternoon. I'm going to have to get going pretty soon."
“I can take you back to Riverside," I offer.
"That sounds great, but first I need to go help Bellamy with breakfast — I promised."
I watch as Marley gets out of bed, her curvy body making my cock ache. God, we had a good time last night and I want her to know how I feel, that I could be with her forever, always.
She pulls on her clothes from yesterday. "My bag's at the yurt, I'm going to have to go back there to change," she says.
"I could walk you." I pull on a pair of jeans, shove my feet into boots and follow her down the dock toward the yurt where Bellamy was assuming she'd be staying last night. But she didn’t. She stayed in my bed, in my arms, tucked in safe.
In the yurt it's hard to keep my hands off of her. I pull her in for a long kiss, loving the way her mouth feels again mine.
"You're in a good mood," she says.
"I'm a morning person, what about you?"
"Same," she admits. "Considering I work at a bar, I wish I were a night owl, but I've never been that way. I always like to see the sun come up. I like to go outside and have my cup of coffee, smell the fresh air that is distinctly the morning in Alaska."
“Pine trees and saltwater," I say.
She nods. "Exactly. I still can't believe you grew up in California. It seems like a world away," she says, slipping off her clothes and reaching into her overnight bag to find fresh ones.
Before she can dress though, I pull her to me once more and I kiss her hard. I can’t get enough. She smiles up at me. "Bellamy's going to be mad if I don't help her."
"I think she can survive,” I say, looking into her eyes.
"But if I don't help with breakfast, you won't be able to taste my famous pancakes."
I groan. "Fuck, you're right," I say, laughing, kissing her neck, plucking her nipples.
She laughs deliciously, smacking my ass. "Later," she says, "I promise, but I don't want my friends to think I'm a flake, considering I'm still getting to know them."
"I totally understand," I tell her honestly. Once she's dressed in a white tank top, oversized overalls and flip-flops, we leave the yurt heading to Beam and Bellamy's tree house.
On the way, I ask her if her brothers are fishermen, if they have boats they take out. I need to get to know her, try and figure out an inroad with her brothers if I want to make this work.
"They've been crab fishermen for as long as they've been out of high school, but it's hard work," she says. "They're constantly away for weeks at a time. I know they want to do something else."
"Like what?" I ask.
"Actually, they want an investor. They were at a bank yesterday. That's why they couldn't
