Then she turned in his arms, slid both of hers around his waist. She looked as tired as he felt, but her gaze was steady, her voice certain. “We’ll figure out what’s best to do. For him. For you.”
Brett touched her face, humbled by this woman. But never more certain about where he was supposed to be. “I thought you’d have me packed and out of here. I’m so sorry, Kirby. I didn’t know. I’d have never…” He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers, trying to shut out the memories of the night before. “When I thought you might be in trouble…I haven’t been that terrified since I was a kid.”
“I was okay. I was talking to him. I didn’t think he’d hurt me. He was just…mixed up, and hurt, and confused. He’s going to need help. More than legal help, I mean.”
Brett nodded, then squeezed his eyes more tightly shut as another thought hit him.
“What?” she asked gently, pulling him closer and touching his cheek as she lifted his head up.
“Dan’s dad. This…it’ll break him. I-I should call him.”
“I think they’re already doing that. I heard one of the deputies say they were trying to reach him.”
Brett swore under his breath. “How in the hell did it get that out of hand and I didn’t know? I don’t miss much, Kirby. And I completely missed this. He’s the closest friend I have, and I never saw it. I was so wrapped up in my own crap, I never-”
“Hey,” she said, framing his face. “You tried to help him and he was too stubborn, too full of pride, to accept the kind of help that would have put him back on the right path. He’s a grown man. He could have chosen the smarter, safer path, even if it meant swallowing his pride. He’s the only one to blame here. Not you.”
She’d said it quite fiercely, and that, more than anything, cut through his grief and got his attention.
“Brett, we’ll figure out how best to help him, if we can, but he’s got to help himself now. You do know that?”
He nodded and then held her face in his hands. “We?” he asked.
She held his gaze. “We.”
He pulled her tightly into his arms and buried his face in her hair. “When I thought I might lose you, that you might be hurt…” He pushed her back enough to look in her eyes. “I don’t want to ever lose you.”
And though there was still the residual pain and ache from the toll the evening had taken, her mouth smoothed, then finally curved. It was a smile of confidence. And of hope. “That’s good, because the man I want is the man I saw today. Who didn’t back down when things were hard. The hardest, maybe. Who wanted to protect me…and a lifelong friend. We’re both misfits, of sorts, you and me, you know that. From backgrounds that weren’t easy. But I think that’s what makes us strong. And what makes us value what we have, what we’ve earned. I think that’s why we fit, you and me, almost from the moment you climbed off that bike.”
“You do fit me, Kirby.”
“Are you still planning on staying here? I mean, with Dan’s stuff and-”
“I’m not going anywhere. You’re right, we’ll figure out what we can do for him. For his dad. The company, whatever that might take. But this is where I belong now.” He pulled her up close and hiked her up into his arms so their faces were even. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he held her tightly against him. “And one thing I’m not going to do is just play house with you, Kirby. I want to marry you. And I don’t want to wait ten years. Or maybe even ten days. I love you, Kirby Farrell. And I want the whole world to know you’re mine.”
Now the smile did come, shining through tears. But they were tears of joy this time. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he swung her around on the porch.
“Is that a yes?”
“I already told you. I’m all in, Brett. I’ve never been a gambler, but I’d bet on you. Every time.”
“Well, maybe you’ve heard, but I’m one lucky son of a bitch. I don’t like to lose.”
“You’re not going to lose me.”
She slid one hand to his cheek and rubbed her thumb across his lips, making him shudder…and forget every damn thing except this moment. And her.
“I love you, too,” she said. “So, marry me, Brett Hennessey. Because I think I’m one lucky son of a bitch, too. Look!” she exclaimed, pointing behind him.
He turned them both around to see that it had begun to snow. Hard. If the thick, white flakes were any indication, it didn’t look like it was something that was going to let up anytime soon.
“The Hennessey Fortune Factor,” she murmured. “Ha!”
“You are all the good fortune I need,” he said, then kissed her, hard, before he carried her back inside the house. They’d both go down to the station later, find out what came next, what could be done. But for right now, he was going to celebrate life. New life. New dreams. His dreams.
Their dreams.
“Mind if we start the honeymoon part a little early?” he asked.
“I thought we already had,” she said, then squealed as he put her over his shoulder and took the stairs two at a time.
They were both laughing as they landed on his bed. Their bed.
And as he slowly peeled off her clothes and started to make love to the woman who was going to be his wife…somewhere out in the white swirl of the dawn snow, they heard cats howling in unison.
They both paused and looked at each other.
“I’m going to take that as a good sign,” Kirby said cautiously.
“I’m going to reinforce the screen on that door.”
Kirby laughed. “Later.”
Brett pulled her under him, felt her arch up, naturally moving with him as he slid deep into her. “Yeah,” he said. “Later is good. Now come here my soon-to-be wife and let’s see if I can make you howl.”
And he did.
Epilogue
“Sure thing, Mr. Deverill. Dev,” she corrected, unable to keep the goofy, girlish smile off her face as she cradled the phone between her chin and shoulder and typed in his request to book his room for an additional week. “Will you be needing me to send someone to pick you up after the game is over? Fine, okay. Will do.” She hung up the phone and glanced over at the small television set she’d brought in from the kitchen and hooked up at the front desk.
ESPN was covering the third annual Brett Hennessey Foundation poker tournament out at the resort. She smiled with ridiculous pride as she watched her husband sitting in the booth with the announcers, calling the play. She watched with particular interest as they talked about the young Irish player, Iain Summerfield. In the past three years, he’d become something of a new sensation and was threatening to topple some of Brett’s long- standing records. Brett was not only not bothered by this, he seemed kind of excited for the kid.
Vanetta came around the corner just then and Kirby dragged her gaze away from the action. “I need to see if we can get Tommy to head over to the resort to pick up Dev. He’s already out of the tournament, but he just called to extend his stay.” Her smile turned a bit cheeky. “I think there’s a certain French ski team racer who caught his eye.”
Vanetta fanned her face with her hand. “If I was only a few years younger, I’d show that scamp what a real woman could do.”
Kirby laughed, as she often did when she spent any time around the older woman. Vanetta had come east during Dan’s trial and had never gotten around to going back. Brett had ended up setting up another management company out west to run her boarding house. He’d tried to talk Dan into sticking around, too, but he and his father had ended up in Palm Springs, both wanting a fresh start without the past haunting them. Brett respected their need for privacy and kept his shadow from looming anywhere over them, but he still kept in contact, and Kirby thought that someday, if he had anything to say about it, they’d find their way back to a solid relationship.
Vanetta had turned out to be a godsend to them both, managing a good part of the day-to-day business of the inn while Kirby helped Brett with his flourishing home rehabbing business. Kirby had found a profound happiness there, working side by side with Brett, indulging her own creativity that fulfilled her in a way she’d never thought possible. They’d never formally hired Vanetta on; she’d just sort of worked her way into their lives. By now Kirby
