Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 29299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“Don’t you dare climb the tree!” I shout.
“I’m not!” our middle child yells back while very clearly trying to climb the Christmas tree.
Sawyer doesn’t look up from where he’s crouched by the fireplace.
“Grayson,” he says in that low, steady voice that means business.
Grayson freezes mid-climb. “Yes, sir.”
“Feet. On the ground.”
Grayson jumps down from a chair, grinning, completely unrepentant. He’s four and already has his father’s stubborn jaw and reckless confidence.
Our oldest, Ellie—six and all sharp wit and fearless energy—rolls her eyes at him. “You’re gonna break something.”
“I’m training,” he argues. “Like Dad.”
Sawyer snorts quietly.
Our youngest, Rosie—two and a half years old and a swirl of curls and sass—clutches my leg and whispers loudly, “Santa’s late.”
“He’s not late,” I tell her, setting the cookies down. “He’s precise.”
Sawyer rises slowly from the hearth, stretching like he’s been bracing for impact his entire life and finally doesn’t have to.
Seven years ago, he stood on a rooftop and chose me in front of the whole town.
Seven years ago, I married a widowed firefighter who thought loving again was dangerous.
Now he stands in a living room filled with noise and life and children who look at him like he hung the moon.
“Everybody sit,” he says calmly.
Three tiny bodies scramble to the couch. He glances at me over their heads. I know that look. He’s trying not to smile.
It never works.
“You sure about this?” I murmur under my breath.
“You’re the one who said yes to three,” he replies quietly.
“I meant the kids.”
His mouth curves. “Too late.”
There are three large boxes under the tree.
Each one moves.
Ellie notices first.
“Mom,” she whispers, eyes wide.
The boxes wiggle again.
Grayson gasps. “Is that—”
Rosie squeals. “It’s breathing!”
Sawyer clears his throat, fighting a grin. “Go on.”
Ellie rips into the first box. The lid pops open. A spotted head bursts out.
The scream that follows could register on emergency equipment.
“A puppy?!” Ellie shrieks.
Grayson tears into the second box, revealing another wriggling Dalmatian who immediately launches himself forward and knocks Grayson flat.
Rosie claps both hands over her mouth as Sawyer gently opens the third.
The smallest puppy blinks up at her with enormous black-spotted ears.
“For me?” Rosie whispers.
“For you,” Sawyer confirms.
Three puppies. Three squealing children. Three tails wagging like they’ve found heaven.
The father of these chaos machines is Sparks — the Dalmatian who rode with me on the fire engine the day I married this man. Sparks lounges near the doorway now like he personally orchestrated this entire legacy.
Ellie scoops her puppy up immediately.
“I’m naming her Inferno,” she declares.
“Of course you are,” I say dryly.
Grayson wrestles with his, laughing as it chews on his sleeve. “Mine’s Sir Barks-A-Lot!”
Sawyer groans softly. Rosie cradles hers like it’s porcelain.
“Her name is Princess Sprinkles,” she announces solemnly.
Sawyer presses his fingers to his forehead.
“Sprinkles,” he repeats.
Rosie nods. “She’s sparkly inside.”
The puppies immediately abandon dignity and start attacking each other’s ears. Inferno latches onto Sir Barks-A-Lot’s tail. Sprinkles tumbles sideways and licks Ellie’s chin enthusiastically.
The living room becomes a tornado of fur and shrieks.
I step back into Sawyer’s chest without thinking. He wraps his arms around me from behind automatically, grounding me in the center of it all.
“You did this,” I whisper.
“You wanted dogs.”
“I wanted one.”
He hums against my ear. “You married a man who doesn’t do things halfway.”
His hand slides to my waist, firm and possessive even now.
Seven years later and he still touches me like I’m something he chose deliberately.
Not out of desperation. Not out of fear. Out of certainty.
“Merry Christmas!” Lacee bursts through the front door then, her arms piled high with presents. “Woh! I see Santa already stopped by!” She bursts into giggles as a puppy runs between her feet.
“Lacee!” Ellie runs to her sister and wraps her in a fierce hug. “Santa brought puppies!”
“I see that!” She presses a kiss to her little sister’s forehead. “How about I make pancakes with red and green sprinkles?”
“Can Inferno have some? I bet he likes them!”
“We’ll see you crazy girl.”
Sawyer goes to his girl then, pulling her into a bear hug. “I missed you. Ready to transfer back to Devil’s Peak for college yet?”
“I missed you too, Dad.” She giggles then kisses him on the cheek.
“Hey, honey.” I wrap Lacee in a hug. “He’s been talking about finding ways to convince you to enroll in online classes just so you can move home.”
“Not happening. I love Boulder.” Lacee grins. “But nice try.”
“I told him that.” I smile. “He’s proud of you for graduating early and starting university classes at seventeen. I think he’s also worried that you’re smarter than him already.”
“Well, I think we both knew that by the time I was fifteen.”
Sawyer rolls his eyes as Lacee and I laugh.
Ellie squeals then as Inferno jumps up to lick her nose. Grayson is now being dragged across the rug by Sir Barks-A-Lot, who apparently thinks he’s a sled dog. Sprinkles has crawled directly into Rosie’s lap and is chewing on her braid.