WOOD Read online

  "Don't make me drag you out of this nice, comfy bed to go watch movies," I scold her, "Everyone knows they end up together."

  Gail's face crumples in a sympathetic frown, her hand reaching up to stroke my beard and then rest against the side of my face, "Oh Sweetie," she says, "you really have been up here on your mountain a long time. Don't worry, I'll be right there with you when you find out."

  She brings me down to meet her lips.

  I'm not sure I want to know what she's talking about, but she says she'll be there with me and that's all the matters.

  Epilogue

  Gail

  "Anything?"

  My husband is nothing if not impatient.

  I shake my head at him and laugh.

  We made the September supply run a week longer than Blaze normally sets aside for visits to civilization so that we could get married and pick up a few things for the cabin that we were going to need now that there are two of us here.

  We did not pick up any pregnancy tests, however. I didn't see the point. My birth control wasn't due to be renewed till October and since I'd been on the shot for a few years, I'm sure it's going to take a lot of time for it to work its way out of my system.

  Not that we aren't doing our best to hurry things along and I sure as hell don't mind trying.

  So investing in pregnancy tests that we wouldn't need for another year seemed like a waste of money. Not to mention, women managed to know they were knocked up for millennia without peeing on a stick, I'm pretty sure when it happens, we'll figure it out.

  "Nothing at all?"

  Which is why Blaze is so damned curious if I've started my period yet.

  I shake my head as I follow him out to the barn.

  "Hang on," he hovers at my elbow and insists on holding on to my waist as we make our way across the remaining patches of snow, "Just in case." He gives me an apologetic grin as he guides me across our property as if he were leading me through a mine field.

  He knows his protective caveman shit is driving me insane.

  I'm late. Like late late Really late. Blaze is convinced his super sperm have been managed to coax my ovaries into submission and for the last month, it's taken an act of Congress for him to let me stand on my own two feet.

  I wasn't even the one who noticed. Living up here in the mountains without any use for calendars or alarm clocks means taking things one day at a time, so I wasn't paying any attention to how long it had been since my last cycle.

  When Blaze started asking hopeful questions I chalked it up to my body getting used to not having the birth control hormones coursing through it 24/7.

  Two more weeks and still no visits from Aunt Flow, and I went through a major panic attack while Blaze started drawing up plans to expand the cabin to include a nursery.

  A whole month and I started to tentatively start calculating possible due dates while simultaneously worrying that I had a tumor.

  Six weeks, and Blaze had put the battery back in the Pathfinder, added gas to the tank, and warmed the engine up while I packed us a few things-- because going to town is an overnight affair. Especially since there's no way either of us are going to be able to wait till we get home and I'm not going to take a home pregnancy test in a McDonald's bathroom.

  The late summer storms that kept me with Blaze long enough to convince him that he was never letting go of me turned out to be the precursors to a long winter with record snowfall.

  Thank God for the gas powered log splitter! I can't imagine how long it would take Blaze to split enough firewood to last replace what we used up over the winter if he had to chop it all with the axe-- not that I mind watching him wield that blade, not one bit. In fact, I think they oughta make it a spectator sport.

  When I told him that, he suggested we go to one of those lumberjack contests. I thought it was a fine idea until Blaze realized I'd be ogling other bearded hotties swinging axes, and Blaze thought it was a fine idea until I realized he was thinking of competing and I vetoed having my man on display for other women to ogle. So he agreed to split wood by hand, with the axe, without his shirt on, and I agreed to sit and watch until I begged him to fuck me senseless.

  Which is probably why we're headed to town now.

  Blaze

  We got a new tire for the Pathfinder when we went to town last fall, since then, it's been hanging out in the barn waiting out the winter.

  It's the better choice for getting over the pass quick and I'm damn glad the weather's been clear for a few weeks now. I usually don't head back down the mountain till June but this trip can't wait another day.

  I'm busting at the seams from excitement, even though Gail seems pretty blase about the idea of peeing on a stick. My wife's got a point, if she's pregnant, we'll figure it out soon enough the old fashioned way.

  I can't take the suspense.

  And if she is pregnant, we're gonna need all kinds of things to get ready to add a baby to the cabin next fall.

  "Yeah, like doctor's appointments," Gail tells me, "and some way to communicate with the outside world, in case we need emergency help."

  I pat her on the knee and grin, "Already have a satellite beacon on the shopping list," I assure her.

  The nearest real town is still a couple hours away. I check us into a hotel while Gail goes to the drug store. I want to go with her, I want to hold her hand through every step of this but she's got a point-- it'll go faster if we split up and handle the small stuff separately.

  When she returns with two shopping bags in her hands, I'm waiting for her in the hotel lobby. I give her a curious grin and nod at her bags as I take them from her and lead her to our room.

  "I can carry those," she tells me, but we've found a comfortable middle ground in the months we've been together-- mostly she insists on continuing to be her fierce, independent self and I admire that about her while I insist on making sure she doesn't have to be so damn independent all the time.

  "Not today, you can't," I laugh, "how many tests did you get?" I hold up the bags and grin as she slides the card key to unlock the door.

  "Two," she says, trying to grab the bags back from me,"If it comes out negative, we'll have one for later."

  I set the bags down on the counter and Gail reaches for them but I grab her up in my arms first, "Then what else did you get?"

  "Water," shes smiles up at me, "because the tests don't work by licking them, and I got a can of double espresso and a couple of beers in case the test is negative."

  "What about when it's positive?" I steal a kiss and raise an eyebrow. I know it's positive, I can feel it, but I know my Princess likes to fight the inevitable. It's her way of avoiding disappointment. I just have to do my job and make sure she's never disappointed, even if that means making sure my baby is growing in her belly.

  "If it's positive," she tells me, "we can make an appointment with a doctor and find out what we need to stock up on before heading home."

  An hour later the timer goes off and Gail looks up at me with anxiety etched in her pretty face that makes me want to do anything necessary to sooth that stress from her face.

  "Ready?" I ask.

  Gail watches me reach for the test, sitting on the counter. She's already told me a thousand times that I have to look first.

  "You want the good news or the bad news?"

  It's all I can do to keep my voice level and calm as I stare down at the thing, I'm glad she picked an easy one that I don't have to work to decipher.

  "Bad news?" Gail sits on her knees on top of the hotel bedspread, looking at me with eyes filled with fear.

  I leave the results on the counter and crawl onto the bed with her, pushing her over so she lands on her back, looking up at me.

  I'm kissing her, running my hand over her curves when she whispers, "I take it I'm not pregnant." Her voice is so low and it twists my gut to hear the sadness in it.

  Interrupting my mission to look up and meet her eyes I want to know, "Why would you think that?"

>   "You're not bouncing off the walls," she reaches to brush my hair out off my forehead and then her fingers slide down the side of my face and brush my beard. I turn my head to catch her fingertips with my lips. "You're trying to distract me instead of telling me the results."

  I bite the tips of her fingers gently and grin back up at her, "Oh, you're knocked up alright, Princess," I tell her gravely, "but it's going to be you who's bouncing off the walls." I reach out and tap the wall behind the headboard for emphasis.

  "I'm really pregnant?" Her eyes are wide and they sparkle with tears in the dim hotel light.

  I can't contain the crazy grin anymore as I wrap her in my arms and kiss her till she's gasping for air. Then I run my hands over her body, filling my palms with the curves that have only gotten sexier since she's started filling out with a permanent address and regular meals.

  "And you're never going to get to change you own tire again, even if it was hella hot watching you do it."

  My hand spreads out over her stomach and thinking of my child growing just beneath my palm does something to my insides that I hadn't expected.

  I'm so damned turned on by it. Gail is my wife and she's having my baby. If she thought I was protective of her before, she's going to think I've lost my damn mind at the primal need I suddenly have to care for her. Not to mention my dick is rock hard and aching for her right now.

  "My tire?" She says, confused.

  "Remember? The whole reason you blew into my life to begin with?" I remind her as I reach for her ass and pull her against me, "And then you hiked out to the road and you wouldn't let me help at all."

  "I told you all I needed was some wood," she tells me with a little smirk.

  "I'll give all the wood you need, Princess," I growl, giving her no room to doubt it.

  From the Author

  Thank you for reading

  Wood: A Wild Romance

  I hope you enjoyed following Blaze and Gail to their happy ending.

  Rocklyn loves to offer bonus material to her newsletter subscribers, so sign up and gain access to extended epilogues, cover reveals, and general shenanigans that you can't get anywhere else (because no one's talked Roxie into braving social media yet!)

  Rocklyn Ryder's Newsletter

  Also by Rocklyn Ryder:

  Arranged Marriage Romance (Raven Swann's client files:)

  A Perfect Gentleman (excerpt included)

  A Nice Boy

  A Smart Choice

  A Great Catch

  A Real Keeper

  A Good Move (coming soon)

  Full Length Stand Alone Romances:

  BUSH (Excerpt included)

  WOOD

  BONE (coming soon)

  There are more great stories to be told so keep in touch so you don't miss a new release.

  Rocklyn's Newsletter

  Have you read A Perfect Gentleman yet?

  The books in the Arranged Marriage series are complete stories that can be read in any order. Each book features a different couple finding their happily ever after with the help of modern day marriage broker, Raven Swann.

  Get hooked on book 1 on Amazon.

  Here’s a little snippet:

  Brooke

  "I'm serious!"

  I know I'm being dramatic but fuck it. I deserve to be over the top at a time like this.

  I fling myself back on the bed and throw my arm over my head. The tears threatening at the corners of my eyes are real. I'm over acting so I can keep my sense of humor but the truth of the matter is-- everything sucks and I really am going to start crying any minute.

  "Brooke," Paige isn't buying it for a minute, "there's nothing wrong with you. Or your picker."

  Paige might be my bestie, but she's so not helping right now.

  "My picker is broken, how else can you explain how I manage to keep ending up with assholes like Damian?"

  Paige laughs, "Well first of all, you could stop falling for guys with names like Damian! I mean really, how did that not tip you off right off the bat?"

  I throw my arm over my face and groan.

  "Seriously, Brookie, if you want to meet a good guy you're going to have to change your patterns."

  "I don't even know what that means," I moan into the crook of my elbow.

  "It means stop picking up guys based on their tattoos. Stop shopping in bars where all the guys are wearing leather jackets and ride motorcycles. Try a book club or maybe volunteer somewhere, that's how I met Jace."

  Her voice gets all lilty and high pitched when she says his name. It makes her sound like she's 15 again. I've been listening to her "I'm in love and this is The One" voice for ten years. I've only heard it about a hundred times, I'm really good at recognizing it by now.

  And really, "Jace," how can she even try to tell me that Damian's name should have given him away? But there's no point pointing that out to her, she and Jace just made it past their second anniversary. Their second month, that is, but that's half way to happily ever after for Paige so there's no way she's going to hear anything I have to say about the newest love of her life.

  "I'm going to sign up to be a mail order bride."

  When I say it I'm joking but Paige doesn't laugh at me right away and the few seconds of silence let me marinate in my words.

  "You are not." Paige's voice lacks the conviction that I'm used to.

  I expected her to immediately scold me for giving up on finding love the old-fashioned way. I expected her to tell me to stop talking crazy and launch into a list of ways to find a great guy.

  She tells me no, but she doesn't sound like she means it. I pull my arm off my eyes and look at her.

  She's got her phone in her hand and she's looking at the screen with an intense interest. She's Googling something.

  "On second thought..."

  Oh shit! She's looking up mail order bride sites?

  I sit up and give her my best deer-in-the-headlights look, "You are not looking that shit up!"

  I can't believe she's taking me seriously.

  Her face scrunches up. I watch her thumb work its way across the screen, clicking on links and then going scrolling through the sites she's opened. Her face scrunches, she frowns, then her eyebrows shoot up, she smiles, she frowns again.

  "What?!" The suspense is killing me.

  OK. It's not like I'm really serious about becoming a mail order bride. I mean, I didn't even think it was a real thing, but Paige looks like she's having no trouble finding sites.

  "Well," she starts off hesitantly while she's still browsing, "the good news is you can totally be a mail order bride if you're serious?" She looks up me with a curious look on her face.

  "What's the bad news?" I have to admit, this is getting my mind off Damian. I almost even crack a smile.

  Paige looks back down at the site she has open and shakes her head like she can't believe what she's reading, "The bad news is that you can totally be a mail order bride if you're serious."

  "That bad?" I finally laugh.

  "Depends on your idea of bad," she grins, "Apparently mountain men needs brides, as do truck drivers, fisherman, and prison inmates."

  "No lighthouse keepers?" I tease, but seriously, mountain men? I crane my neck to see what site she's on.

  "I don't see anything for lighthouse keepers, but if you're willing to relocate to Bolivia, this guy's only missing a few teeth," she holds her phone for me to see a picture of smiling man that appears to be 300 years old with only 2 visible teeth. Only two teeth are visible because that's all he has. The empty spaces along his gumline are obvious.

  I shiver.

  So much for mail order matrimony.

  "Hmm," Paige has switched to a different site, she sounds intrigued. Always dangerous, but still, I'm curious.

  "What?"

  "Arranged marriage," she reads.

  "Arranged?" I mimic her curious tone.

  Fiddler on the Roof comes to mind. As does Bobby Jenkins. That's probably what I'd end up with if
I let my dad pick a husband for me. There's a reason I wouldn't let Dad pick for me.

  I'm ready to pull the whole "forget I said anything" routine but Paige is downright into this site now. She jumps up and fires up the lap top on my desk.

  Oh shit. She's serious if she needs to see the site on a real computer!

  "Arranged," she's explaining to me, "it's a modern day matchmaking service that focuses on marriage as the end game."

  She's scrolling through the full site now, concentrating on the fine print.

  "So it's not cheap," she muses, "but this Raven chick claims to have a 98% percent success rate with her matches."

  "Raven chick?"

  "Yeah, her name's Raven Swann. Looks way more normal than her name suggests though."

  Paige holds up my lap top so I can see Raven's photo on the site. Ms. Swann doesn't look anything like the goth/hippy/new age/witch that I expected. She's a pretty woman in her mid-30s with long straight hair and soft brown skin. She's not even wearing too much eyeliner. And she's way younger than I would have expected a matchmaker to be.

  "Says she been matching couples for 20 years, and that she's a third generation matchmaker."

  Paige sounds impressed. She continues reading for a while and then turns to me with a dangerous grin, "How serious are you?"

  Turns out, I'm pretty fucking serious.

  I'm 26 years old for crying out loud. I've been through a handful of failed relationships, 2 of which I actually thought were going to turn into forever.

  The problem is, I like em rough around the edges. I see a little ink peeking out from under the sleeve of a leather jacket and my panties fall right off. Add a motorcycle and a filthy mouth and I'm gone.

  I like boys that drink too much, swear too much, and win bar fights.