Thrown Down (Made in Jersey #2) Page 17
“We got pancakes on over here!” One of Duke’s sisters yelled from down in the backyard. “Chocolate chips. You know anyone who likes those?”
Marcy’s entire body began to wiggle on the sink. “Daddy, can I go?”
A beat passed while Vaughn figured out how to speak around the golf ball lodged in his throat. “Yeah, kiddo.” He lifted his daughter off the sink, following her to the door to make sure she got across the yard all right. Before she went down the steps, Marcy turned and hugged his right leg, then took off running.
River’s arms banded around his middle right on time, keeping him from bursting wide open with all of the contentment and pride and love. So many emotions he’d never expected to feel after leaving Hook. Leaving River.
He picked up River’s left hand and examined the simple gold wedding band he’d slid onto her finger at a civil ceremony in city hall. Neither one of them had been interested in waiting—not after they’d waited four long years to be together—so they’d recited their vows on a rainy afternoon while Marcy colored in the front row of the judge’s chamber, Duke serving as their witness. When Vaughn thought back to the ceremony, which had taken place mere days after they’d reunited in the motel, all he could remember was the blue of River’s eyes, how tears had swam in them, and gravity tugged him closer until they were forehead to forehead, sharing the same oxygen. Exactly where he wanted to remain for the rest of his life.
“We’re going to buy ourselves a house, Riv. For Marcy. For us.” He turned in her hold, sliding their mouths together. “It won’t be long.”
“I don’t care how long it takes, or how many hours we have to work.” The ends of her blonde hair tickled his shoulders. “We already have everything worth working for. The rest is extra.”
Needing more contact—always, always—Vaughn stooped down, wedging a forearm beneath River’s ass and lifting her against his body. He tilted his hips forward a little to remind her they would be meeting in the machine room on their mutual lunch break, and she nodded in unspoken agreement.
“We’re going to get caught someday.” Her laugh was shaky, even as her legs wrapped around his waist. “We can’t keep—”
“Can’t?” Vaughn lifted an eyebrow and emitted a low growl. “Don’t you know better by now than to tell me I can’t do something, doll?”
“Maybe I do.” River’s tongue slid across the fullness of her bottom lip, challenge lighting in the eyes he saw in his dreams, even with her sleeping right beside him. “Maybe telling my husband he can’t do something is how I guarantee the opposite.”
He took a few steps and propped River up against the wall, swallowing the moan she let loose. “Crafty woman.”
She tore away from the kiss, a teasing smile curling the edges of her mouth. “You can’t blow me a kiss at the end of your speech this morning. You can’t let me pack you a lunch with a cute note on the napkin…and show all your friends—”
Their warm chuckles were lost in the ensuing tongue kiss, but kicked back up when Vaughn tickled River’s ribs with his fingertips. “You’re abusing your power. It should be used for good, not evil.”
“Yeah?” River whispered, her sweet smile turning dreamy. “You can’t love me forever. You can’t sleep beside me every night for the rest of my life.”
Vaughn heaved a breath into his wife’s soft neck. “Aw, doll. Just try and stop me.”
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Acknowledgments
Thank you to so many people.
Patrick and Mackenzie, loves of my life. Like River, Vaughn and Marcy, we are also a really special work in progress and I treasure every minute we spend yelling, laughing and collapsed from exhaustion.
Heather Howland, my editor at Entangled. We’ve done so many books together and this rhythm of editing stories has become such a comforting process. We’ve come a long way from swapping POVs, removing the weird NA storylines and making my heroes sound less like stalkers (read: Protecting What’s His).
Christine, my aunt. For being the most badass single mother I know, putting yourself through night school while raising a child and holding down a full time job—you inspired this story.
Stephanie Lapensee, my publicist at Inkslinger. I appreciate your time and energy so much. What an unexpected bonus that you like the books!
Sara Eirew, photographer extraordinare. This cover is divine, because of your talent.
Eagle, beta reader, endangered bird. You say nice things. I like them.
Bailey’s Babes, my FB reader’s group. I love our fun, not-so-little club and its positivity. For a friendship founded on bulge pics, we are pretty damn mighty.
About the Author
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Tessa Bailey lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and young daughter. When she isn’t writing or reading romance, she enjoys a good argument and thirty-minute recipes.
www.tessabailey.com
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