Page 87 of Riding the High

“That’s the good stuff,” Granny Dan says as she tastes the ravioli filling.

I smile at her. How she’s so sweet and open, yet shaped my father into the man he is today, I’ll never quite understand. Though everyone says my dad is just like my grandfather, I don’t remember him all that well; I was young when he died. But, if it’s true what they say, it seems that the Danforth men have a habit of marrying free-spirited women who soften their otherwise desolate personalities.

I watch my mother and granny giggle over something Mabel says while she washes her hands.

“On Disney Channel, the rich people have a cook,” Mabel says nonchalantly as my nonna hands her a rolling pin.

Everyone in the kitchen laughs at her honesty.

“Mabes,” Cole says sheepishly, overhearing her comment from the table.

I wave it off. “My family would cook even if they were the richest family in the world,” I say as my granny heads out to the dining area to sit with Cole and ask him if he’s excited for CeCe’s fast-approaching wedding.

“Why?” Mabel asks inquisitively.

“Well, food is part of our roots. We put all our love into it.” I lean down toward her. “That’s why it smells so good.”

“Roots like our garden?” Mabel asks as I pull the warm beef mixture off the stove and put it in a cool bowl to scoop into little pasta parcels.

“Yes, just like our garden,” I say.

“How?” she questions as I place a sheet of pasta in front of her.

“Well. My nonna taught my mother how to make this recipe. In fact, she taught her all her special and secret recipes,” I tell her. “Then my mother taught me, and now I’m teaching you. So my nonna’s roots are now your roots. Do you understand?”

She nods. “So even though I’m not in your family, I can still have your roots?” she asks.

“Yes, babe. That’s exactly right,” I say with a smile.

She grins up at me and my heart feels like it may burst. I’ve never given much thought to having kids of my own. But man, if they’re anything like Mabes, I think it could be pretty damn amazing.

“So, what’s next?” she says, clapping her tiny hands together.

My nonna joins in now, showing Mabel carefully how to fill and fold the ravioli before securing the ends.

“Fold and press, fold and press,” she chants in the same way she did when I was young.

I take a moment while they work to steal a glance at Cole. He’s sitting at the table, listening intently while my father says something to my granny. When our eyes connect across the room, his molten gaze settles somewhere deep within me. It’s more than knowing I’m starting to care for him, a lot. It’s more than I can explain. It’s almost like I can breathe deeper and I feel calmer the moment his eyes find mine. He leans back in his chair and sips his drink before flashing me a smirk. It’s the kind of smirk that tells me what I already know. When this ends and I move back into my own house, leaving Cole Ashby is going to fucking destroy me.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Cole

36 days to go

Ihear the faint buzz of Ginger’s alarm, which tells me it’s quarter to five in the morning. Mabel will be up in an hour, and Nash has already texted me twice. I roll over and wrap my arms around her. The sweet scent of her hair hits me and I breathe it in. Everything about her smells like home and I feel the overwhelming urge, as I do almost every second of every day, to bury my cock inside her so deep it erases the thought of any other man having found their way there before me. I kiss her shoulder and she stirs with the tiniest sigh. I groan as her alarm buzzes again and I know it’s time for me to go. We’ve done this dance almost every morning for the last three and a half weeks: I get up before the sun comes up in case Mabel ever wakes early. Thankfully she’s the kind of kid that sleeps like the dead so I don’t usually have to worry, but I would never want her to find me here without a way to explain it. Which would be impossible, because I can’t even explain it to myself.

Things are too good right now. And, in my life, when things are going good, bad things tend to happen and ruin everything. Like the time I’d just gotten used to being a father and my then wife decided she didn’t have it in her to be the right kind ofmother to Mabel. And when I took on the role of deputy sheriff, and started laying down some roots for Mabel, right before my dad got sick.

I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop when things are going well. And, right now, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. So much so, I’m starting to wonder how I ever lived without this soft, sweet, sarcastic firecracker of a woman before.

I’m thinking of things I shouldn’t be, like asking her how she’d feel about me putting a baby in her of our own, and how happy it would make me to watch her beautiful body change as she grows our child. I’m thinking about giving her and Mabel a second garden to grow their plants in when they run out of space in their current one. I’m thinking about Christmas mornings, and camping out in the backyard, hosting cookouts and watching our kids swim in the pool.

But the blaring fact that I am a package deal remains. And asking Ginger to take on the role of being a stepmom to Mabel, and accepting all of Gemma’s bullshit on top of that, is a lot. Besides, who actually marries their friend, drunk in Vegas, and then turns around a few months later to sayhey I actually really like you, wanna stick around?And even if she does stick around, how can I be sure she will stay for good? I can’t bear to have Mabel’s heart be broken by another woman she loves.

I kiss Ginger’s shoulder one last time, reminding myself that she is nothing like Gemma. She would never hurt Mabel.

She groans in disapproval as I make my way out of bed, taking all this fucking emotion with me.

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