Home > Torrid (Whiskey Run : Savage Ink Book 2 )(15)

Torrid (Whiskey Run : Savage Ink Book 2 )(15)
Author: Hope Ford

“I don’t know. We’ll have to talk to your mom about that.”

Katie wipes under her eyes and walks into the room. “Did I hear my name?”

Lane looks up at Katie. “Yes. I’m going to pick out names for my little brother.”

She laughs. “Uh, how about you go make a list and we can talk about them.”

He grabs his sketchbook and pencil and turns to go but stops suddenly. He turns to me with a smile. “Thanks, Trey. I love you too.”

My heart stops beating for just a fraction of a second. Lane runs from the room and doesn’t have any idea how much his words mean to me. Man, this parenting thing can be hard.

“You okay?” Katie asks, bumping her hip into me.

I pull her down into my lap. “Yeah, you think I handled that right? I wasn’t sure what to say... I do know I’m going to have a little talk with Craig about filling Lane’s head with ideas.”

Katie puts her hands on my shoulders. “I have something I wanted to tell you.”

I clasp my hands on her lower back. “Okay. You can tell me anything.”

“Yes.”

I shake my head, not understanding. “Yes what?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you. Today, tomorrow, whenever you want to.”

“Today,” I tell her instantly.

She throws her head back and laughs out loud. “I think we have to get a license or something first.”

“I’ll call Aiden. He can get his uncle to help us out... he owns half of Whiskey Run, he can push it through.”

“I need to prepare a little... how about Saturday?”

“Yes,” I tell her. I’ll tell her yes to anything. I’ve only asked her to marry me every week since we found out about the baby. “What changed your mind?”

“I didn’t want you to marry me just because of the baby. I’ve been worried about Lane and how he’d take it... all of it. I wanted to make sure you were doing this for the right reasons, I guess.”

I lean my head toward hers. “I’m marrying you because I love you, I love Lane, and I love this little guy,” I tell her, holding my hand over her rounded belly. “I want us to be together forever.”

“Me too,” she whispers before she fits her mouth over mine. My cock lengthens in my jeans, and I pull her closer.

I break the kiss and breathlessly tell her, “Saturday, you’re mine.”

She cups my cheek. “I’m already yours.”

 

 

Epilogue

 

 

Emily

 

 

I like the job. I do. Aiden and Treyton are both good guys—at least they seem to be. Both Gracie and Katie have gone out of their way to make me feel welcome. It’s Dawson that makes me want to quit at least once a day. If you look up asshole in the dictionary, I would bet money there’s a picture of him next to it.

Thankfully, it’s his night off, and I can work without being on edge the whole night.

Ring. Ring.

I pick up the phone. “Savage Ink. This is Emily.”

“This is Malcolm.”

I silently groan. There’s usually only one reason that Malcolm would be calling. He’s the manager of the Whiskey Whistler. He owns the bar a block down the street, and I’m already wondering if I can just hang up and unhook the phone. “How you doing, Malcolm?”

He growls into the phone. “I’ve been better. Send Aiden or Treyton down here to get Dawson before he destroys the place.”

“They’re both in the middle of tattoos.”

He sighs loudly into the phone. There’s all kinds of noise in the background, and I’m pretty sure one of the voices I hear is Dawson. “Fine. I’ll just call the sheriff.”

“No, don’t do that.” I don’t know why I stop him. This is becoming a regular occurrence where Aiden or Treyton is having to go and save him. I should just let him spend the night in jail and sober up—face the consequences. “One of us will be there in a minute.”

“Fine. Ten minutes, then I’m calling.”

I hang up the phone and walk back to Aiden’s booth first. “Sorry to interrupt. Malcolm just called... Dawson is...”

“I can’t go. I have to finish this. Can you ask Trey?”

I nod and walk down the hall to Treyton’s booth. I lose hope when I walk in and Trey is in the middle of a big back piece. There’s no way he’ll be able to go. “Hey, Malcolm called and said someone needs to come get Dawson before they call the cops.”

Trey stops the buzzing tattoo gun and looks up at me. “How is it up front? You busy?”

I shake my head. “No, but...”

“He’s harmless, Emily. He’d never hurt you. He’s just hard on himself and doesn’t know how to deal with his shit.”

I purse my lips together. I’m not sure what all that means or why he’s telling me that.

“Can you go and get him? Take him home?”

Reluctantly, I nod my head. “Yeah, I’ll be back later.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll lock up.”

I nod and go back up front to grab my purse. I drive down the block and park right in the front of the Whiskey Whistler. The place is rundown on the outside, and if it was my first time here, I’d be surprised by what I find inside. Everything is fancy. It’s like a big city bar instead of the small-town dive that it appears to be on the outside.

As soon as I walk in, I spot Malcolm, and he points his head toward the back of the bar. I walk to the back, and Dawson has a chair raised over his head like he’s about to throw it. “Dawson!” I scream over the loud music and chaos.

His head turns toward me, and he drops the chair instantly. I stomp my way over to him, and I don’t know if it’s all these weeks of dealing with his bullshit and attitude but I don’t stop until I’m right in front of him. I grab his shirt and pull him down until we’re face to face. “What the hell are you doing?”

I never in a gazillion years would have been prepared for his response. “Emily,” he says huskily, right before he puts his lips on mine. Push him away. Knee him in the nuts. All these thoughts go through my mind, but I don’t do any of them. No, instead I pull him closer and let him deepen the kiss. Damn, what have I gotten myself into?

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Keep reading for Treyton and Katie’s

Happily Ever After

 

 

Trey and Katie’s HEA

 

 

Katie

 

 

Three Years Later

 

 

“Lane, TJ, dinner’s ready!” I call out to the backyard.

I hear the boys’ feet as they run across the back porch just as Trey walks in the dining room. “It looks like we’re a little late for dinner.”

I follow his gaze from where I’m standing in the kitchen and watch as he goes straight to where Ellie is sitting in her highchair. She’s only one year old, but already she has all the men in the house at her beck and call. She didn’t want to wait for everyone else and is feeding herself tiny noodles.

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