I laugh, knowing it’s time to tell him what I discovered las night after he was already in bed.
"What?" he asks. "You didn't say yes or no."
My eyes light up. "Because, Maker, I'm already pregnant. That's why I'm so tired."
He rolls me over so I'm straddling him and he pulls me close. His mouth on mine, my breasts against his chest. He squeezes my ass as he thrusts deep inside of me.
“Truly?”
I nod, my heart bursting with joy as I take in his smile.
"God, baby,” he says. “We really do have it all."
Epilogue 2
Maker
Five years later…
The distillery is tucked deep in the Whiskey Mountains, right where it belongs.
It's a private place, and we keep our recipe under wraps. We don't want too many people to get too close to what we have going on here. And what we've got going on is damn good. We’re making the finest whiskey the West Coast has ever seen, and I'm not just talking shit.
We've won prizes and it's only going to get better the more it ages. Just like the love all of us fuckers have found.
Today though, we're in Riverside at our tasting room in town, and everyone's brought their families. Some people might not think a whiskey tasting room is the place to bring the kiddos, but hell, when you're in Alaska, you do it your way. Besides, Sheriff Price is here, so we've got the A-Okay.
We have a catering company passing out food, and we've got live music, and everybody is smiling, having a good old time. We just released our finest blend since we've been in business. And I'm damn proud of what we've created.
Marley's brothers, Gavin, Jett, and Dylan, are grinning ear to ear. And I know how much it means to Marley to have them doing a line of work that keeps them a little bit safer than heading out on the crabbing boats.
Marley comes up to me, carrying an old fashioned. "Thanks for hiring a bartender who can make the ladies some drinks."
I chuckle, shaking my head at my girl. She refuses to drink the whiskey straight.
I give her a kiss. "Damn, your lips are sweet," I say, kissing her again.
She has Tana in her arms and our twins at her feet. They're two now. All of our kiddos are stair stepped, five, four, three, two, two, and one. She wanted five kids or more. And I gave my girl what she wanted. Fuck, I'd give Marley the whole damn world if she asked for it, but she doesn't want that. Somehow, she just wants me.
"You need to go get some photos taken with your friends — the photographer is here," she says.
I nod, knowing she's right. We thought it would be nice to get the men from Whiskey Mountain in a photo for once. We're not usually the kind of guys who want to be in the spotlight, but our women insist. And I appreciate the sentiment.
Who the fuck would have thought I'd be here now? A family man with all my friends in tow, their families growing, their relationships with their wives deeper than ever before, all of us out on the mountain. Well, except Beam and Bellamy — they're still in their tree house. And fuck, Beam keeps expanding that place. Every time they have another baby, he gets it in his mind to add another room.
We open the bottle of our newest blend and Jameson pours out glasses. The four of us are together — Jameson, Beam, Walker, and me — and damn, it feels right.
I stand right next to my brother, getting all kinds of sentimental. I know it might not be the most manly thing to say that I’ve got tears in my eyes, but as we raise the glass for the photo, I do.
I came into Alaska a broken man, and somehow this place— the saltwater and the pine trees and the fresh air, it fucking healed me in all the ways I needed.
But it's not just the land. It's the people.
The best people on Earth are right here in this room.
And somehow I'm lucky enough to call them family.
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SIX MEN OF ALASKA
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Six men, one wife.
And I have no say in who those men will be.
It's more than a game of chance—it's my life falling into the hands of strangers.
But the men who win my hand are ruggedly handsome and promise to protect me until death do us part.
Fallon and his strong will.
Giles and his protective streak.
Salinger and his easy smile.
Banks and his intellect.
Emerson and his faith.
Huxley and his charm.
I want them all, each for a different reason. My body is awake, my heart beats wild. But I’m also a woman running from a past that’s catching up. Fast. My father is coming for me and he'll make my husbands pay--and that’s not a gamble.
That’s a guarantee.
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About the Author
Frankie Love writes filthy-sweet stories about bad boys and mountain men.
As a thirty-something mom who is ridiculously in love with her own bearded hottie, she believes in love-at-first-sight and happily-ever-afters.
She also believes in the power of a quickie.
Find Frankie here:
www.frankielove.net
