“Damn near capped my knees.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“And either you’ve shrunk or y’can’t measure worth a damn.”
Caitlin scoffed. “Says the man who messed up the height of a chicken coop and now the only birds that would fit inside are pigmies.”
Shifting into drive, he rested his wrist on the wheel, using it to steer.
“Told ya, Desi—”
“Don’t even try to blame her,” Caitlin cut in with a laugh. “I was watching you the whole time.”
“Ever think maybe that’s why I was distracted?” He asked, cocking his head at her. “Struttin’ around in those shorts…”
“You’re attributing my shapely figure to your inability to count?”
Booker grinned wolfishly. “Maybe. But only ‘cause I was appreciatin’ the view.”
With the wind blowing through the cab, Caitlin tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and smiled.
“Play your cards right and you’ll get that view again tonight.”
Humming in lustful agreement, Booker faced forward, steering them down the long dirt road towards the main gate.
After a moment, Caitlin shifted, squinting through the windshield.
“Jack, look…” She said, pointing. “Is that…”
“I’ll be damned,” Booker murmured.
Breaking about ten yards away, they rushed to climb out.
Caitlin blinked, waving away the cloud of dust they’d kicked up.
She almost didn’t recognize him—added height and maturity changing his features slightly. But then he smiled, and she knew.
“Travis?” She breathed. “Oh my…”
The doors to the beat-up church van behind him swung open, and more familiar faces appeared.
“Jorge?” Booker stepped closer. “Debbie?”
Relieved laughter bubbled out of all of them.
“You… You found us,” Caitlin gasped.
Travis nodded. “We followed your signs,” he said. “We’re so glad you guys are here.”
Shaking himself, Booker rushed to unlock the gate and pull it open. The instant there was room, everyone was colliding in strong bear hugs.
“What about the others?” Caitlin asked, pulling back from Travis. “The children, your brother…”
“He’s in the van,” Travis said, still smiling. “So are the rest of the kids.”
Debbie glanced at her. “We stayed as long as all our elderly members were…” She trailed off, grief clouding her eyes. “It was peaceful for all of them.”
Memories of precious, confused Lucille flooded Caitlin’s mind.
Jorge pulled her into a hug. “Thank you.”
“For what?” She asked into his shoulder.
“For believing we’d find you.”
Shoving the gate back further, Booker waved for them to bring the van through.
“C’mon,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of people to introduce y’all to.”
* * * * * * *
That night, after helping their new members get settled, after tucking Desi in and reading to her and all the children, after thanking Bob for the hundredth time for the bread and the greenhouse tomatoes, after hugging Nicole and cooing at her belly because she could, and after giving Sister Agnes more material for the quilt she was making, Caitlin was ready to collapse into bed.
Passing Max, David, and Matilda in the hall, she praised the toddler for her potty-training efforts and started up the stairs.
The moment she saw Booker’s shirtless back, and the tattoo she knew every line of, all thoughts of sleep left her.
“Well don’t just stand there starin’,” he said, grinning over his shoulder. “C’mere.”
The languid pull and thrust, the praises kissed into every inch of skin, the faint nail marks she left on his shoulders as he pushed her higher and higher.
It was as perfect as it ever was.
“Christ, songbird,” Booker panted, grinding against her as he lifted her leg around his waist.
Kissing up the side of his neck, she moaned his name in his ear.
Threading his fingers with hers, he put her arm above her head, pinning her to the pillows.
Ducking down, he kissed across the tops of her breasts, and then, just like he always did, Booker pressed his lips to the ragged semi-circle scar on her inner forearm.
Every chance he got, he kissed her scar. Whispered how much he loved her against the raised edges and thick, pale contrasting lines.
She was immune, and alive, and he had her in his arms. That was all Booker wanted, day in and day out.
Arching her back, Caitlin gasped as the first wave of her release crashed over her.
“That’s it,” he murmured, still moving inside her. “Shit, you’re perfect, darlin.”
White hot flame engulfed her, and she pressed her face into his bicep to muffle her cries.
Booker groaned, tipping over the edge with her.
As she slowly drifted back to herself, Caitlin decided it was the perfect time to tell him.
Rolling to lay beside her, Booker gathered her up in his arms so her head could rest on his chest.
Playing with the silver bird pendant she never took off, Caitlin smiled, and kissed his pectoral.
“I have something for you,” she said.
He tipped his chin to look at her. “Is it my birthday now?”
“Consider it an early anniversary present,” she said, echoing his words from several days ago.
Dropping a few more kisses to his chest and neck, she sat up and crossed the short distance to their closet.
“I love it,” Booker drawled, and she could feel him watching her naked ass as she bent over.
Caitlin chuckled. “If that was your present, I’d have stuck a bow on it.”
Retrieving the small cloth pouch, she kept it behind her back as she straightened and tip toed back to bed.
“Close your eyes,” she told him, trying not to give too much away.
Booker smirked. “Really?”
“Yes, and no peeking,” she said, covering his face with her free hand.
Appeasing her, Booker let his eyelids drift shut.
“It took me a while to find the right one,” she said. “But I think this one suits you best.”
Taking his broad hand in hers, Caitlin tipped
