Page 7 of Fern’s Date with Destiny (Heart Falls Vignette and Novella Collection #4)

R ose’s kitchen smelled like comfort. Cinnamon from an apple crisp cooled by the window, garlic butter from Chance’s over-the-top garlic knots. The faintest undercurrent of paint and turpentine that always clung to her big sister’s life now.

Fern leaned her hip against the counter, listening to Luke Stone explain some new fencing plan to Chance, while his wife Kelli sat perched on a barstool, one hand absently rubbing her belly.

Seventeen weeks pregnant. Fern still couldn’t wrap her head around it. A baby. A person , growing right there inside Kelli.

The concept wasn’t the problem, obviously, it was just that no one in Fern’s immediate family had ever been pregnant.

It was a fascinating thing to think about and observe.

Kelli’s eyes suddenly went wide. Her hand stilled, and her mouth formed a tiny oh .

“You okay?” Fern asked quickly, stepping closer.

Kelli’s smile was pure wonder. “The baby moved. Just once, but— wow .”

Fern squealed under her breath. She squeezed Kelli’s shoulder, and a pang of something soft and greedy twisted low in her belly. Someday. Not now, but someday. Maybe a baby with dark eyes that crinkled like Cody’s did when he smiled.

Fern stuffed the daydream away before she lit up like a neon sign.

Instead, she swiped a slice of cheese off Chance’s charcuterie board, ignoring his fake outrage.

“Oi! Grab a plate, ya heathen.”

“Too slow, big brother,” Fern shot back then popped the cheese in her mouth before beaming at Rose for backup.

Rose rolled her eyes fondly and went back to mixing the salad.

Behind her, Cody’s quiet chuckle shivered straight up Fern’s spine. She risked a peek. He stood near the fridge, beer in hand, nodding at the conversation while his eyes, those traitorous, secret-keeping eyes, kept drifting to her.

Fern crossed her arms, fighting amusement. Behave, she mouthed at him.

He lifted his brows and mouthed back, Make me.

Heaven help her.

Dinner itself was a warm blur. Chance told a half-true story about hiking with Rose and getting lost. Kelli told Luke not to hover so much or she’d wrap him in bubble wrap for the next twenty-three weeks.

Fern found herself laughing so hard she nearly inhaled her water when Rose threatened to ban Pictionary if Chance tried to sneak in made-up words again.

“It’s just not right,” Rose complained. “I love your brogue, don’t get me wrong, but when you deliberately toss in nonsense words and drawl them out, I lose all concentration.”

“Rose hates losing,” Fern pointed out to everyone in the room.

“Being happily distracted by a sexy drawl is still a win, isn’t it?” Kelli asked, which set Chance grinning and Luke curling an arm around her possessively.

Luke cleared his throat then gave it a shot. “If it’s an accent you be craving, missy, look no farther than your lawfully wedded man.”

Fern covered her mouth to stop from snickering, and Rose turned away to hide her smile.

Chance, however, had no mercy. “What the feck was that? You sound like a pirate who swallowed a toad.”

“Very sexy,” Cody agreed before letting out a guffaw.

“Time to get into our teams!” Chance declared, patting Luke on the shoulder as the man grinned good-naturedly.

Once the table was cleared and the coffee poured, Chance slapped a big sketch pad down in the center like a proud king revealing a treasure.

“Kelli and Luke. Me and Rose. Cody, you’re stuck with the tiny tyrant. ”

Fern threw her napkin at him. “I demand a recount.”

“Sit down,” Rose ordered, her grin wicked. “Before I switch you with Chance and you’ll have to figure out my drawings all night.”

Cody patted the empty chair next to him. “Might as well accept your fate, sweetheart.”

“Better you than Rose. She once had to draw a house, and none of us got it right.” Fern slid into the seat, pressing her knee firmly against his under the table. “Still, try not to embarrass me.”

His reply was low enough that no one else heard. “Only plan on embarrassing you later. Not here.”

Her cheeks went molten. She retaliated by grabbing the marker and the first prompt, sketching so hard the tip of the pen squeaked before ripping the paper.

Chance cackled. “Solid start, Fern.”

“Shut it!” she offered back, half mortified that she was so comfortable teasing the man who was, in fact, her boss.

Cody leaned close, his arm brushing hers as he squinted at her terrible drawing. She tried not to melt at the smell of him—warm skin, clean soap, a hint of the scent of the ranch that always clung to Red Boot’s barns.

“I could have sworn you knew how to draw,” he murmured. “Are you sandbagging it?”

She snickered. “I never cheat.”

He leaned back, studied her frantic lines, and calmly said, “No, you’re right. It’s clearly an alien invasion.”

“No freaking way,” Chance howled. “Cheater!”

“Wait, I was right?” Shock tinged Cody’s voice before his grin widened. “I mean, of course, I’m right. There’s talent on both sides of this team.”

“Horseshoes up his ass,” Luke offered dryly.

They played until their sides hurt from laughing. Chance guessed “spaceship” for everything. Luke threatened to withhold foot rubs if Kelli didn’t stop deliberately drawing what looked like cats with six legs.

Through it all, Fern let her shoulder lean heavier into Cody’s, drinking in the way their secret felt safe here. Hidden in plain sight, surrounded by people they loved.

When Kelli finally called mercy and pushed away from the table to claim the best spot on the couch, Fern helped cap the markers and fold the paper for the recycle bin.

Cody caught her hand as she stacked the last sheet on top of the others.

“Let me,” he murmured. His thumb swept over her knuckles, quick and gentle.

Her breath caught. He shouldn’t do that here?—

Chance’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Hey, Cody. Walk Fern home, yeah? It’s dark already, and while it’s not Samhain yet, who knows what ghosts and ghoulies are about.”

Cody winked over his shoulder. “Sure, bro.”

Fern mock-glared at Chance but made no move to protest. She liked this. Being tucked into Cody’s orbit with no one the wiser.

Instead of leading her across the yard, though, Cody took her to his truck. She didn’t even pretend to sit prim. She scooted over on the bench seat until his thigh pressed warm and solid against hers. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulled her close.

“You’re taking me straight home, right?” she teased, trying for stern. “All three blocks?”

Cody snorted, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Sure, sweetheart. Straight home.”

Except he didn’t.

Twenty minutes later, the truck bumped off the main road, tires crunching along the gravel loop behind Miller’s old hayfield. Stars spilled across the clear black sky, big and reckless the way only prairie nights allowed.

He killed the engine. The sudden quiet pressed around them, broken only by the faint chorus of crickets and Fern’s soft, eager breath.

“You lied,” she said, accusing but with an enthusiasm that made his pulse trip.

“I’m a man of my word.” He kept a straight face best he could. “I said straight home . Didn’t say when or from where.”

She swatted his shoulder, but he caught her wrist and tugged her closer. “Come here.”

She went easily, slipping across the seat into his lap with a soft giggle that turned to a gasp when he slid a hand under her sweater.

“Cold?” he asked.

“Not even close,” she shot back, threading the fingers of her right hand into his hair. Brushing the tips of the small fingers of her left limb over the soft threads as well.

It was different, but it was her different, so it was perfect.

He tipped his head to kiss her slow and thoroughly. Her lips tasted like apple crisp, the hint of a secret smile curling them at the corners. She made a quiet noise when he bit gently at her bottom lip, her hips shifting restlessly against his thigh.

“Truck bed?” she murmured against his mouth.

“Truck bed.”

They tumbled into the brisk night, giggling like teenagers as he pulled an old wool blanket from behind the seat. She climbed up first, his hands steadying her hips as she crawled onto the open platform.

When he joined her, she was already half-settled on her back, hair a dark halo against the scratchy blanket, eyes bright even in the shadows.

“You,” she said, tugging at his shirt buttons, “are overdressed.”

“Bossy,” he murmured, helping her with the last stubborn snap. Her hand was small yet sure, pushing fabric aside until she could skim her palm over his chest.

She hummed appreciatively, leaning up to press open-mouthed kisses over his collarbone. He growled low in his throat, rolling her gently under him. The stars above wheeled lazy and bright, distant witnesses to the way her fingers found the buckle of his belt.

“Slow down, greedy,” he teased.

“Make me.”

He pushed up, twisting to rest his back against the truck cab, hauling her into his lap until her knees bracketed his hips. She laughed into his mouth when he nipped her lip again, both of them breathless, drunk on each other.

He slid both hands under the hem of her sweater this time, thumbs tracing slow circles over the soft skin just beneath her bra line. She shivered and pressed closer, digging her fingers into his hair to tug his mouth back to hers.

God, she tasted like cinnamon and sinful secrets. He angled his head, deepened the kiss until it went from playful to desperate, all tongue and wet sighs. She scraped her hand down his chest, nails catching lightly, making him grunt against her lips.

“Careful,” he murmured, the words coming out low and ragged. “I’m only human.”

She rocked her hips over him deliberately, eyes dark and wicked. “I know exactly how human you are.”

The friction made his vision blur. He caught her hips and forced them still for a second while he sucked a mark into the soft skin just below her jaw. She gasped, breath hitching into a soft laugh that dissolved into another moan when he bit gently and then soothed the spot with his tongue.

Fern tugged at the hem of her own sweater, half-yanking it up until he helped peel it off altogether. The night air made her skin pebble with goosebumps, but when he bent his head to plant kisses along her collarbone, she only arched closer, greedy for every inch of him.

He slipped the straps of her bra down, slower now, savouring the way her breath caught. His palms cupped the soft weight of her breasts, thumbs brushing over already-hard peaks before he lowered his head to taste her properly.

“Cody—” Her voice cracked on his name. She clutched his shoulders, fingers flexing when he drew one nipple into his mouth, rolling it gently with his tongue. Her hips rocked again, this time with no pretense of teasing.

“You’re gonna break me, sweetheart,” he murmured against her skin, the words vibrating into her chest.

“Promise?” she shot back, trembling slightly.

He laughed, low and dark, and shifted his mouth to her other breast, giving it the same attention until her soft gasps turned to tiny pleading sounds that nearly undid him completely.

He dragged one hand down her stomach, feeling the flutter of her belly under his touch as he popped the button of her jeans again, pushing inside to find her warm, slick, ready.

He worked her with slow precision, matching every flick of his fingers with a filthy, adoring kiss to her throat or the tender curve beneath her ear.

“Look at you,” he rasped, voice hoarse with pride and hunger. “So damn perfect. All mine.”

Her hips bucked helplessly, and she buried her face in his neck, biting his shoulder to keep quiet. He hissed at the sharp sting, loving it, loving her.

She was trembling now, on the edge. He pressed his thumb harder, circled, and watched her fall apart right there in his lap under a sky wide enough to swallow every secret they’d ever kept.

When she came, she cried his name, a broken whisper lost to the wind. Her nails dug half-moons into his skin, and he wanted every mark.

He didn’t stop kissing her. Not even when she sagged against him, her face buried in his throat.

After a minute, she drew back, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-swollen. She traced his mouth with a fingertip, then lower, down the stubble at his jaw, the line of his throat.

“I can—” she started, but he shook his head, catching her hand and pressing it flat over his heart.

“Not tonight.” He kissed her palm, then her wrist, feeling her pulse race against his lips. “I’m so damn happy just like this. Trust me, sweetheart, next time, there’s not gonna be a single inch of you I don’t taste slowly.”

She laughed softly, the sound sleepy and wicked at once. “You promise a lot of very good things.”

He tugged her back down, rolling her gently until they lay tangled side by side on the old blanket in the truck bed. Above them, the stars wheeled on, silent witnesses.

Cody brushed her hair back from her temple, staring at her as if he could memorize her face by moonlight alone.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I promise.”

Above them, the prairie sky spread on forever, full of stars, secrets, and the promise of every kiss yet to come.