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She understands what he needs, and that was the plan.

It’s working exactly the way I wanted.

So why does it suddenly feel like I’m the one who’s completely fucked?

“Daddy?”

I look down at Shiloh. He’s watching my face. Carefully. The way he watches the window when a car comes up the drive.

I crouch down so we’re eye to eye. “I love it.”

It isn’t enough. It’s nowhere near enough. But it’s all I can get past the knot in my throat.

He beams. He grabs my hand and one of Noelle’s. “Our family,” he says.

And there it is again. That feeling.

Warm and dangerous and mine.

And for the first time since I married a stranger, I understand that Bryant might have been right about one thing.

I have absolutely no fucking idea what I’ve gotten myself into.

chapter

ten

Noelle

I make it as far as the pantry before my knees give out.

Not literally. Mostly.

I step inside, pull the door almost closed behind me, and lean back against a shelf full of canned tomatoes. A box of graham crackers digs into my spine. I don’t move.

Out in the great room, Shiloh is explaining the significance of every ornament on the tree, very loudly and very fast. Every few seconds, a deep voice answers him.

Low. Patient. Rough around the edges.

I press both hands over my face.

Oh my goodness.

Grandma would have said, “Good gravy, he’s a big one.”

I knew what he looked like. I did. I’ve seen the headshot. I’ve seen him on FaceTime, tired and rumpled and lit up gold by a hotel lamp. I’ve seen the photograph on the mantel so many times I could draw it from memory.

None of it was to scale.

That’s the problem. A phone screen is six inches tall. Maverick Kane is not six inches tall. Maverick Kane walked into the kitchen and took up the entire doorway. Broad shoulders under a charcoal sweater. Dark jeans. Boots. Big hands. That jaw, which is even more disapproving in three dimensions.

And then he looked at me.

And I said, “Oh.”

Just oh.

I took online college courses for two years. I have read most of the classics. I once won a regional spelling bee with the word “bouillabaisse.”