Page 34 of Reluctantly Ever After (The Oops Baby Club #2)

The corner of her mouth lifts. "Probably around the time you drove across town at two in the morning for pickles and chocolate syrup without a single complaint."

I laugh, the sound rusty but real. "That's all it took? Not my devastating good looks or mind-blowing skills in bed?"

"Definitely the pickles," she says, her eyes lighting up in that way that kills me. "Though the other stuff isn't terrible."

I reach down to my discarded jeans, fishing for what I've carried for months. The metal is still warm from being in my pocket.

"I’ve been meaning to show you something," I say, opening my hand to reveal the wedding ring that matches the one she wears around her neck.

She goes still. "You kept it."

"I did." I meet her gaze. "Same as you. It’s always on me."

Her hand goes to her neck where the chain rests. "I was hoping you were too distracted by my boobs to notice it," she says, attempting her usual snark but not quite hiding the vulnerability in her eyes.

"I notice everything about you." I take her hand, running my thumb across her knuckles. "Why'd you keep it?" The better question is probably why she never takes it off, but first things first.

She's quiet for so long, I think she might not answer. Then she takes a breath like she's diving into deep water.

"Because even when I was telling myself I hated you, I didn't." She looks down at our joined hands. "Because part of me knew Vegas wasn't just some drunk mistake. That there was something real between us, even when I couldn't admit it to myself."

Her honesty knocks the air straight out of my lungs, like someone's dropped a full keg on my chest. I run my thumb over the wedding band in my hand, then hold it up between us. "I'm putting mine on tomorrow. Just so you know."

Her eyes roam all over my face. "Are you asking me to stay married to you, Kasen James?"

"I'm asking you to consider it." I bring her hand to my mouth, pressing my lips against her knuckles.

"We're good together, Pink. Better than I think either of us expected.

" I tighten my grip on her fingers. "It won't be easy—we're both stubborn as hell, and our businesses still put us in each other's way sometimes.

But I think this thing between us is worth fighting for. "

She's quiet for so long my heart starts going crazy. Then she looks down at the ring in her palm.

"I'll think about it," she says finally, meeting my eyes. "That's not a no."

“I’ll take it.”

Neither of us is ready to sleep after that conversation. There are too many emotions still crackling between us, too many possibilities spinning through my head.

"Want to watch a movie?" I ask, running a hand down her bare back. "I'm too wired to sleep."

She nods against my chest. "Plus, I should probably eat the rest of the snack you went out for. Wouldn't want your heroic middle of the night quest to be wasted."

I laugh, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Our kid's part vampire, I swear. Always wanting weird shit in the middle of the night. He’s trying to turn us nocturnal."

"I think he probably gets that from you," she says, poking my ribs. "You're always up at strange hours working on something."

“Says the woman who’d sleep until noon every day if she could.”

She flips me off and I laugh and kiss the hell out of her.

Then we pull on enough clothes to be decent—boxers for me, another one of my shirts for her—and head to the living room.

While she settles on the couch, I put together more of her bizarre concoction from the kitchen and grab a beer for myself.

"What are we watching?" I ask, handing her the bowl of chocolate-covered pickles that still makes my stomach turn just looking at it.

I've grabbed a bottle of Timber's Winter Porter for myself - the small batch experimental one with hints of coffee and vanilla that I've been tweaking for months and finally got right.

She scrolls through options on the screen. "Something mindless. I can't handle anything that requires brain cells right now."

We settle on some action movie with explosions and a plot thin enough that it doesn't matter that we're starting it at three in the morning. I pull her against me, her back to my chest, my hand resting on her belly.

Twenty minutes in, the female lead appears on screen in some skin-tight outfit that leaves nothing to the imagination, taking down three guys twice her size.

"Damn," Wren murmurs, pausing with a pickle halfway to her mouth. "She is ridiculously hot."

I laugh, surprised. "Got a thing for badass women in leather, Pink?"

She tilts her head back to look at me, a challenge in her eyes. "I mean, I'm bisexual, so yeah. Women in leather are definitely on my list of turn-ons."

The casual admission catches me off guard, but in the best possible way. "You never mentioned that."

She shrugs. "Never came up. Does it bother you?"

"Fuck no," I say, tightening my arm around her. "Pretty sure it just makes you even hotter."

She snorts. "So predictable."

"What? Now we can appreciate hot women together."

She laughs, relaxing back against me. "Just don't expect any threesomes, James. I don't share either."

"Wouldn't dream of it." I press my lips to her neck. "I can barely handle you. Adding someone else would probably kill me."

We fall into comfortable silence, her attention back on the movie, mine split between the screen and the woman in my arms. Something about her casual revelation, the easy way she shared that piece of herself with me, makes my chest feel too full.

It's another layer of Wren I get to know, another part of her she's trusting me with. And I want all of it—every secret, every preference, every hidden corner of who she is.

My phone buzzes on the coffee table, breaking the moment. I almost ignore it, but it's four in the morning. Nobody calls at this hour unless something's wrong.

"Shit," I mutter, reaching for it. The brewery's number flashes on the screen. "I need to take this."

Wren pauses the movie, concern crossing her face as I answer.

"James."

"Kasen, it's Scott from night security." The guard's voice is tight and I go on high alert. "Someone tried to break into the brewery. The alarm scared them off, but you might want to come down here to talk to the police."

"On my way," I say, already standing. "Anyone hurt?"

"No, sir. They didn't get past the loading dock door."

I hang up, looking down at Wren. "Someone tried to break in at Timber. I need to go check it out."

She sits up immediately. "I'll come with you."

"You don't have to?—"

"I'm coming," she says firmly, already heading for the bedroom to change. "Someone's messing with your brewery. I want to know who."

Ten minutes later, we're pulling up to Timber. The place is lit up, security guards and a couple of cops milling around the loading area. I spot Lake talking to an officer, his expression grim.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen that look on his face.

"What happened?" I ask, approaching them with Wren close behind me, gripping my hand.

Lake turns, relief crossing his face. "Someone tried to force the loading dock door open. They got spooked when the alarm went off." He nods toward the security cameras. "We got decent footage, though. You're gonna want to see this."

Inside the office, Lake pulls up the feed. The video quality isn't great, but we can see two figures working on the loading dock door.

"Wait." I lean closer, focusing on the shorter guy's movements. "That's Marcus Wells. He used to work for Eastside before they sold out to Miller."

"How can you tell?" Wren asks as she leans over my shoulder to squint at the screen.

"The limp. Do you remember when he hurt his knee in that brewery softball tournament last summer? He’s had it ever since." I tap the screen. "And I'd recognize that stance anywhere—he's got a specific way he leans when he’s trying to take the weight off of it.”

Lake nods slowly. "You're right. And didn't he just start working for Pacific Northwest after the acquisition?"

"Yes, yes, he did." My jaw tightens as the pieces click into place. "Miller's behind this."

"It gets better," Lake says grimly. "I was at Hopworks yesterday afternoon when some suits showed up. Rumor is they're being pressured to sell."

"Let me guess," Wren says. "Miller's people?"

Lake nods. "Their CFO was in a panic. He said they'd been getting equipment failures, delivery problems, all kinds of issues that are tanking their value. I think the idea is to make them desperate to sell."

"Systematic sabotage," I growl. "It’s the same playbook he's trying to run on us."

"And I heard from my contact at Evergreen that they're closing their distribution contract with Cascade," Lake adds, glancing apologetically at Wren. "Sorry."

She shakes her head, her expression hardening. "It’s not on you. This isn't about normal business competition. That bastard’s playing dirty."

"He's trying to squeeze us from all sides," I say, the pieces falling into place. "First taking our distribution partners, now attempting what—some kind of mafia intimidation bullshit?"

"Looks like it,” Lake says.

I run a hand through my hair, fury building in my chest. "We need to beef up security. We need new locks, more cameras, whatever it takes."

"Already on it," Lake assures me. "But what's his endgame here? He offered to buy you out, right? Why resort to this?"

"Because I told him to go fuck himself," I say. "And he's not used to hearing no."

Wren places a hand on my arm, her grip tight. "He's playing dirty with both of us. First taking Eastside, now trying to sabotage Timber."

I cover her hand with mine, something pissed the fuck off burning inside of me while I consider options I tossed out years ago and an idea starts to form in the back of my mind. "Well, he picked the wrong people to fuck with."

"Do you think the police will do anything with what we've told them?" she asks, glancing toward where the officers are finishing their report outside.

"Doubt it," Lake says with a frown. "We can identify Marcus, sure, but Miller will just claim he was acting on his own. Or deny any connection altogether. And it’s not like he showed his face in the video. His bum leg doesn’t really prove anything."

I know he's right, but the thought of Miller getting away with this makes my blood boil. "We'll handle this ourselves. Starting with better security." I turn to Wren. "And we need to warn other local breweries. Whatever Miller's planning, it's bigger than just us."

She nods, her business face firmly in place. "I'll call a meeting tomorrow. Get everyone together."

By the time we've finished dealing with the officers and planning security upgrades, it's nearly dawn. The brewery's quiet again, the excitement over. Lake heads home to catch some sleep before his shift, leaving Wren and me in my office.

She leans against my desk, exhaustion clear in the slump of her shoulders. "You okay?"

"No," I admit, moving to stand between her legs. "I'm pissed. Someone tried to mess with my business." My hands settle on her waist. "But I'm glad you were here."

She looks up at me, her eyes serious. "We're partners in this, Kasen. Whatever Miller's up to, we’ll face it together."

"Partners," I repeat, liking the sound of it more than I should.

She smiles, a tired but genuine curve of her lips. "Now take me home. I’m so tired, your cement floor is starting to look as good as your bed.”

I press my forehead to hers, drawing strength from her presence.

Whatever Miller's planning, he underestimated what he's up against. He might have money and corporate power, but Wren and I? We've got something much stronger between us.

And I'm starting to think it might be love.