“You could tell me you took on Cowboy with your bare hands and it wouldn’t top that shit,” Max answered.
“I bet I could tell you something that would top seeing your mother naked on her kitchen counter.”
“Babe, you could try, but this shit’s burned into my retinas.”
Shane turned to the bar, mumbling, “Gregor’s ass blowin’ in the wind requires whiskey,” and whistled through his teeth, holding up four fingers and grunting, “Whiskey.”
“I’m not drinking,” Mia said to Shane. “I won’t be able to for the next eight months.”
It took a moment for what she said to register, but Shane caught on quicker than Max. I knew, of course. I’d gone with her to Smith’s to get a pregnancy test.
Shane froze, then his lips curled into a smile.
“God save us all,” he chuckled. “Max’ll be a madman by the end.”
Mia didn’t respond, she was staring at Max.
It had finally sunk in what she’d said and his eyes were glittering with emotion.
“You’re carryin’ my child?”
“I am. Though I can’t guarantee it’ll be a girl like Maxine wants,” Mia choked out.
Max rose from his chair and rounded the table, plucking Mia gently from her chair and then crushing her to his chest. I felt my bottom lip tremble, watching how happy they were.
After kissing her soundly, Max bent at the waist and picked Mia up, heading for the door without looking back at Shane and me.
Shane rose and moved around the table, sitting in Mia’s vacated seat, smiling as he watched Max and Mia exit the bar. Curling his arm around my shoulder, he said in all seriousness, “I better get our cabin built. Peyton Hunter is gonna need a protector in this world, and who better than our son to take on female Hunter?”
I snuggled into his side and smiled.
“You assume we’ll have a boy.”
Shane gruffed, “Damn straight, we will.”
He was right, of course.
***
Two years later . . .
In a meadow high above Trails End, Shane and I watched as Max gave away his mother to Gregor MacGregor. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow on the couple. For once in her life, Maxine seemed demure, shy even, as she took her vows. Gregor was dressed in his kilt, looking every bit the Scotsman he was. Maxine wore an off-white gown covered in lace and a ring of flowers in her long flowing hair.
As promised, Mia and Max had produced a granddaughter and named her Peyton. She was the apple of her father’s eye, but black-haired and clumsy like her mother. Max was wound tight most days because of this and always on alert. He’d demanded sons from here on out to take some of the burdens off his shoulders.
Shane and I got married a year and a half earlier and had a son, as Shane had commanded, three months ago. We named him Hunter in honor of Max, and in tribute to Shane’s connection to his family. I continued to work with Child Protective Services on a part-time basis and Shane was building cabins for the slick city folk that kept coming in droves to our slice of heaven on the Alaskan frontier.
Jack, Jenn, and their boys were in attendance, as well as the whole town. No one had stayed home. They wanted to watch as their Queen took another man’s name. Jenn and I stood side-by-side, holding Peyton and Hunter, giggling at Max as he glared at Gregor. He’d yet to forgive the man for the kitchen fiasco and, no doubt, seeing him in a kilt brought it all back.
Once their vows were taken, the whole town headed back to Last Call for the reception. It was jam-packed, the overflow standing in the parking lot. We had reserved tables, thankfully.
After settling Peyton and Hunter in their fathers’ arms, Jenn, Mia, and I made our way to the ladies’ room to freshen up. There was a line of women waiting to use the facilities. I finished first and stepped into the hall to make room at the sinks. I made it three steps when a strong arm grabbed me around the chest and hauled me into a dark corner.
I giggled, thinking it was Shane, until putrid breath laced thick with alcohol hissed into my ear, “Been waitin’ a long time for payback.”
Turning my head, I looked into the face of Roger Brown, the man from the carnival that had manhandled his son.
He shoved me forward and I hit the wall. Turning so I wasn’t exposed, I put my hands up to block any blows that came my way.
Jenn and Mia walked past as Brown threw a punch. I ducked and landed a kick to his midsection, then tried to run past him. He reached out with an arm and grabbed my hair.
Jenn got in on the action then and jumped on his back, followed by Mia, who kicked his shin.
“What,” Jenn hissed, “is it about us that we attract crazy men?”
Brown tried batting Jenn off his back and he succeeded. She landed with a thud to the floor.