“Seems the hot guy that I want to bang is now my new housemate.”
“That’s a bit of a conundrum. You definitely can’t bang him if you’re living with him.”
She tightens her ponytail. “Yes, that would seem to be the wise plan. This landlord shall not bang her housemate.”
“The housemate she’s oh so tempted by,” I add, then I smile. “I can’t wait to hear how the non-banging plan unfolds.”
Epilogue
Gabe
Several months later
“Do I look handsome or do I look handsome?” I hold my hands out wide for my pops as we stroll slowly around the grounds, wandering past gardens of daisies and tulips.
He narrows his eyes, giving me the once-over, appraising the pressed shirt and slacks. “You got your good looks from . . .”
I wait for him to say from him or from Emily or from my mom. But instead, he smiles. “You got your good looks from here.” He taps my heart. “It’s what’s inside that matters.”
I smile at him. “Thanks, Pops. But I got my charm from you.”
“No doubt about that. Also, you look handsome as hell, so get out of here and get your girl.”
I walk him back to his suite and make sure he’s settled in with one of his Dashiell Hammett paperbacks, courtesy of Arden. He parks his reading glasses on his nose, opens the book, then glances up at me. “You make sure Emily sees how handsome you look on your way out. She’d appreciate it.”
I don’t correct him this time. I let him enjoy this moment when he’s slipped back in time. “She would, Pops. She would. Love you.”
“Love you too, kiddo.”
When I arrive at A New Chapter and peer through the edge of the window, Arden’s book club is in full swing. She’s expanded her offerings in the last several months, and the Bawdy Ladies—as they’ve dubbed themselves—have become regulars, spending one night a week discussing books here, along with many other topics.
They’ve fully enlisted Arden in their crew now, and tonight she’s running the club.
But I’ve enlisted them as well.
If there’s one thing I know about Arden, it’s that she both loves and leans on the people in her life, from her best friends, to her employee, to these ladies, who’ve become a regular fixture.
As I scan the premises from my lookout point, I note that Miriam has arranged the circle of chairs as requested. Arden’s back is to the door, her hair spilling down her shirt in a beautiful cascade of blonde. I check the time on my watch.
Miriam glances at the door, and I move into her line of sight, nodding that all systems are a go.
Miriam returns her focus to the group, and Madeline, next in line for the plan, opens the door for me.
She flashes me a conspiratorial smile, and I smile in return, moving quietly among the shelves to the back area of the store. Ducking behind the self-help section, I listen to the women as they discuss Liane Moriarty’s Big Little Lies.
“I suppose what this book made me think about most,” Miriam puts in, “is what it really takes to make a marriage work. What do you think, Sara?”
The woman with red cat-eye glasses chimes in. “It takes a whole lot of determination, but kindness and humor too.”
Another voice pipes up. CarolAnn, I think. “A good union requires a woman who understands her man, and a man who understands his woman.”
That’s my cue.
I step around from the shelf. “And it takes a friendship that turned into a great love story.”
Arden startles then snaps her gaze to me. “Hey, you.” Her voice is soft, curious.
God, I love her so much. I walk to her, meet her gorgeous gaze, then continue. “It takes knowing the other person. Listening to the other person. Giving her space when she needs it and giving her closeness when she craves that. It takes laughter and nights out and nights in, and being willing to look out for what matters to the other person. Personally, I believe it’s best when you’re both friends and lovers.”
“Me too,” she whispers, a lovely tremble in her voice.
I drop down to one knee, take the velvet box from my pocket, and flip it open. “Arden, will you be my wife?”
She pauses for a moment, like she’s taking it all in, but then her answer comes.
“Yes!” Her eyes shine with happy tears that spill as she clasps her mouth and nods fiercely. “Yes, yes, yes. I would love to be your wife.”
My heart fills with happiness as the woman I started to fall for long ago jumps up from her chair and gives me her hand. I slide the diamond onto her finger, and she gasps, more tears rolling down her cheeks.
Her voice cracks. “It’s beautiful. I love it. I love you so much.”
I stand and wrap my arms around her, kissing her softly as the ladies clap and cheer. I move my mouth to her ear, whispering, “I’m so grateful I found you throwing cheese and crackers down a trail. I’m so glad I was there that day, and I intend to be there for you every single day for the rest of our lives.”
Cheek to cheek, she whispers back, “It’s the same for me, and I have so many plans for us.”
I laugh and kiss her once more. “I do love it when you devise your lists and strategies.”
She pulls back and meets my eyes. “You’re my best-laid plan.”
Another Epilogue
Arden
I’ve always been a planner. I like to research and plot. To be as prepped as I possibly can.
But in the last year or so, I’ve learned that planning is both everything and it’s everything you sometimes need to toss out the window.
I was so fixated on my preserve-the-friendship strategy with Gabe I nearly missed a chance at the biggest gift in my life— love with a man who fulfills me, heart and soul.
I had to break out of my good-girl shell to snag that love.
Sometimes, I’m still a good girl. I make my husband dinner, and I love to bake him goodies to take to the firehouse and share with the other guys. Though, truth be told, sometimes he taunts the guys with them and keeps all the treats to himself, even when Shaw tries to grab them, even when Derek, when he’s there, does as well. Boys will be boys.
I love, too, to greet Gabe when he comes home after a long shift.
But I’ve learned that the element of surprise works wonders on my man.
Some days I wear an apron. Now and then, I don a silky little robe. Other nights, I slip into a new bra and panty set he hasn’t seen.
Every so often, I answer the door in nothing.
And each time, without fail, he picks me up, carries me over his shoulder, and takes me somewhere—the bedroom, the kitchen, the couch, the wall right next to the door one time when he was particularly pent up—and shows me how he feels about my greetings.
I suppose I feel naughty then.
Incredibly naughty.
But I’ve learned that naughty can be oh so very nice.
Especially when you’re wildly in love with the man you can share all your dirty fantasies with.
All you have to do is ask for what you want . . . and it’s quite nice indeed when you get it.
And with Gabe, I get it good.
THE END