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38

JOY

“I think she wants chaperones,” I told Wes as we drove toward my mother’s house.

It was four days after the Soraya showdown, and things had settled into a routine. A routine of being a family of three. Busy with Remy and my pottery during the day, nights spent in bed with Wes having sex. Talking. Learning about each other.

Remy didn’t mention her mother. Not once. All she knew was that she was gone, and that seemed to be enough.

“If this guy isn’t good for her, be prepared for me to kick him out,” Wes muttered, eyes on the road.

My lips twitched at how protective he was of Mom. She’d called the day before and asked us over for dinner. Dinner with Clyde . It seemed their date had gone well, and this was their second date.

With us and a four-year-old tagging along.

I thought it was cute. I’d known Clyde for a long time, unlike Wes, and wasn’t concerned he was going to mess with my mom’s emotions. He really did like her.

No man doggedly asked a woman out for years if he wasn’t truly interested.

“Just wait ten years,” I said.

He glanced at me and frowned. I thumbed over my shoulder to the back seat where Remy was humming to herself.

Wes downright growled now, catching on. “Fourteen? Not happening. She can date when she’s twenty.”

“What about full moon ru–”

His surprise braking and pulling the car over cut off my words.

I looked around. “What’s the matter? Did we hit something?”

He turned in his seat and set his forearm on the steering wheel. “Are you trying to have more consequences? ”

I gulped, remembering it took two days for my butt to stop hurting after the last time, and that had been in fun.

“My quences weren’t fun,” Remy grumbled from the back seat. “I had to work at the ranch for the time everyone went lookin’ for me. I don’t like moving rocks.”

“You’re not supposed to,” Wes said.

I bit my lip. Wes decided Remy needed to be punished for her running off, even though the reasons were solid. She needed to know how dangerous her actions were. So he’d taken her to the ranch with him the other morning and made her move river rocks–softball-sized ones that weren’t too heavy–and put them in a pile by a nearby cottonwood tree. Then she had to move them back. Marina helped her for a little while. Then Johnny. It hadn’t been forced labor by any stretch, but to a little girl, it had seemed huge. It had been necessary.

It took her thirty minutes, but Wes told her that was the amount of everyone’s time she’d wasted when she’d gone off on her moon run. She owed them that time helping out.

“I’m not going to run off any longer,” she added, in case Wes was planning to add any more rock shuffling to her day.

“Good. Then you can tell Mrs. Wallace that you can have an extra cherry in your juice.”

“Yay! What’re we waitin’ for then?” she asked.

“Yeah, what are we waiting for?” I repeated, trying to look sweet and innocent.

I wondered that, too. Wes stared at both of us, then rolled his eyes. “Women.”

Before Wes could put the car back in gear, his cell rang. It came through the dashboard.

“Afternoon, Wes. Levi here.”

For a moment, I freaked, thinking he was going to say that Soraya was back. I grabbed Wes' hand.

“I’m in the truck with my girls,” Wes said, most likely warning the sheriff that there was a four-year-old with big ears. Especially big, since shifters supposedly heard really well.

“I won’t keep you. Just wanted to tell you that I worked with Selena Jenkins. Papers were drawn up as you wanted.”

Selena Jenkins was a lawyer, but also a shifter, who Levi said had helped their pack members in the past. The papers offered Soraya a sum of money in exchange for relinquishing any custody rights to Remy. Wes would have full custody. Permanently. The sum was vast for a not-quite-starving artist like me, but not for a billionaire.

I had a feeling he’d have paid anything to make Soraya go away and never come back.

“And?”

“And they’re all signed,” Levi replied. “Congratulations.”

Wes sighed, then smiled. “Thanks.”

It was over. Soraya was gone. She’d gotten what she wanted–money. Wes got a guarantee that she could never take Remy away.

The call ended, and he pulled back on the road.

“That was a good use of the money,” I told him. When all of a sudden one had enough money to buy a fleet of planes, it was hard to even know where to start spending it. Which Wes didn’t seem to want to do. He was content. Remy was happy.

That was all that mattered.

He nodded. “Another good use is getting your house fixed. I’m not waiting for the insurance to go through.”

My mouth opened. “What? I–I can pay you back.”

“Do you want me to pull the truck over again?” he warned.

“No!” Remy called.

“Wes–”

“We’re a family now, honey. I don’t plan on buying a yacht and putting your name on it or anything, but I think we can swing fixing your roof.”

He had a point.

“Okay,” I agreed. “I didn’t really want a second job at Cody’s.”

“The list of consequences is getting longer the more you talk,” he said, his voice tipped quiet.

“You don’t want to move rocks!” Remy said from the back, proving she could hear anyway.

We pulled into Mom’s driveway, and Wes put the truck in park.

“Can I go ask for extra cherries now?” Remy asked.

“Yes,” Wes said.

She undid the buckles on the car seat herself and climbed out. She raced off to the house, leaving her door wide open.

“You’re not getting a job at Cody’s. I can support you.”

I turned to face him fully. “I’m not going to sit around eating cherries all day, Wes.”

“I know that. I want you to focus on your passion. Your pottery.”

I cocked my head. “Really?”

“Of course.”

I swallowed, looked down at our joined hands. “I was thinking about turning my house into a shop. Maybe a co-op for other artists to show and sell their work.” I looked up through my lashes at Wes, unsure if the idea was a good one. “I mean, since I’m not living there any longer.”

Reaching out, he unclipped my seat belt and pulled me across the center console.

“Wes!” I cried.

Once I was settled–a little awkwardly–in his lap, he kissed me.

And kissed me.

If we weren’t in Mom’s driveway, we’d take things a lot further. Heck, all the way.

“Miz Wall said to stop kissin’ and come inside!” Remy called from the front stoop.

I looked to Wes, and we laughed.

“Can you make a baby brother first? Cassie at school says her parents made a baby ‘cause they kissed all the time.”

My eyes widened, and then I laughed some more. Wes' eyes narrowed and heated.

We hadn’t talked about a baby.

But–

Maybe?

For now, I was happy. I was loved. I was a mother. Life was perfect.

And crazy. Because a certain four-year-old was definitely going to run us ragged.