Page 10 of Defended by the Lumberjack (Moonshine Ridge Lumberjacks #2)
Fourteen Years Later
Levi
" I nappropriate."
Sunday rolls her eyes and moves to a picnic table, away from her mom and I.
My wife stifles a laugh and I leave my hand right where it belongs; cupping July's hip. Okay, okay, my hand might be filled with more of my woman's ample ass cheek than resting on the swell of her hip.
That's what has our thirteen year old daughter refusing to be associated with us.
Tomorrow, she'll find a new excuse to put distance between her and her parents. Like anyone in Moonshine Ridge doesn't know she's related to us.
"I love it when you're inappropriate," July whispers against my cheek as my fingers brush over the denim of her jeans.
"Mmm. Wait till I get you home, wife, I'm going to get all kinds of inappropriate once we have the bedroom doors closed."
From her seat at the table nearby, Sunday glares at her mom and I kissing like teenagers on the picnic blanket spread out on the lakeshore, her fingers flying over the screen of her phone.
Worst thing they ever did was to put in better cell service up on the Ridge.
July scoots her sweet ass a little closer to me and we try to be more discreet about our PDA.
Wouldn't want it getting around that Sunday's folks are still in love or anything.
"Who's she texting now?" I ask July.
"Her friend in Slow River," July answers quickly and a little too nonchalantly. It's got my dad senses on alert as I shoot a more discerning glance at our very recently teenage daughter.
"It's fine," July pats my thigh softly, "he's her age. They can't drive. You still have time before you have to worry."
I give my daughter one of my best dad glares, making sure she sees it. She gives me one of her best teenage eye rolls before putting her phone away.
Surprisingly, she rejoins us once the emcee's voice crackles over the loud speakers.
Fireworks over the lake are about to start.
Adam and Phoenix come back from the concessions with corn dogs and homemade chips. All the younger kids take up position shoulder to shoulder down front.
Even Sunday quietly rejoins us, taking a seat at the corner of the blanket. Presumably far enough away to avoid getting parent cooties on her.
It's been fourteen years since I found the curvy little chef in an empty hallway of the ski resort. Fourteen years since I made her mine and not one minute spent regretting it.
July's still the chef of Savor, loving every minute of living her dream. She started taking on apprentices two years back and although she tells me she'll probably never earn a Michelin star-- she's still built a name for herself that keeps the tables filled.
The Murdocks-- man, who saw that coming? All three of those grumpy old bastards settled down themselves not long after I put my ring on July's finger.
They even almost, mostly, kinda retired to stay home and raise families of their own.
My buddy, Jake, handles the office work nowadays.
Adam and I are still with the logging company too, doing damn well for ourselves after putting in so much time.
I can't speak for my buddies, but I know I like being able to come home to the wife and kids after work every day. But I never could handle a job indoors. I still spend my days in the field. Supposedly supervising, but I can't quite let go of the chainsaws and the log jacks.
Lucky for me, my wife loves the smell of fresh cut timber on me and the way the work keeps me in shape.
Independence Day fireworks light up the night sky over the lake that hugs the perimeter of Moonshine Ridge. The oohs and ahs of the Ridge's children following every burst of light as the colorful sparks fade and fall into the calm water.
July leans into my chest.
Defending this woman was the best move I ever made.