Page 84 of The Huckleberry Bookshop

Forgiveness? Love and a relationship?

She hadn’t been 100 percent sure.

But now, seeing his dreams inked on his chest, hearing the question on his lips and the invitation…. Witnessing the opening up, and having those beautiful eyes waiting for her answer….

She cleared her throat. “I want two or three kids. But if I ended up with five, I’d be okay with that.”

“Five?” He squinted at her. “How old are you? Is there time?”

She laughed, giving him a light push. He pulled her close, refusing to let her go.

“Seeing the way you’re such a sucker for Stitches,” she said, “as well as the rumor of how great you were at the Dragons charity’s hospital visits, I have a feeling if two people like us got together we could end up with a whole herd of kids. Even more than five.”

He smiled softly, the skin around his eyes wrinkling as though he could envision a home and family with her. It would be filled with all the things they’d mentioned, from children and chaos to pets and, above all else, love.

“Yeah,” he said, “I could get on board with that.”

He pulled at the opening in his shirt, looking down at his chest. “Good thing there’s lots of room for additions.”

She placed a finger over a spot perfect for a smaller branch. “Maybe one day I’ll be on here.” Her breath hitched when she realized what she’d said.

But Chad reached over, scooping a pen off her desk. He handed it to her. “Why wait?”

She laughed. “You want me to draw myself onto your family tree?”

Her heart and breath hiccupped like a truck misfiring as she caught the love in his eyes.

“You know, we haven’t really known each other that long…” she said hesitantly, lowering the pen. She didn’t want to rocket her way up infatuation mountain just to discover she’d completely miscalculated and hit the entirely wrong range.

“I’ve known you since the day we met.” He guided her hand and pen toward his skin. He was watching her, not daring, not pushing, but letting her know it was real for him, and always had been, despite their horrible start.

She licked her lips, wondering if she knew Chad in the way he was suggesting—like an instinct.

“And you know me,” he said. “The real me.”

“Do I, though?”

“Ask me anything.”

“Why were you drinking whiskey at the gala?” A flush heated her face, and she wasn’t sure if it was residual anger, frustration over the lack of respect for her rules, or embarrassment for how much his pretend rule-breaking still bothered her.

“Whiskey?” he asked.

“Apple-spiced?”

“Apple, yes. Whiskey, no.” His smile slowly warmed. “Juice? Yes.”

“No. No, it wasn’t.” She tossed the pen on her desk and shook her head. Anger rose like bubbles from an underwater air pocket. “I tasted it. And it was…”

Wait. There hadn’t been any bite to the droplets she’d tasted. True whiskey surely would have been less sticky and less apple-flavored in such a small amount.

Chad watched her as comprehension dawned.

Her shoulders dropped. “Are you kidding me?” She was just as bad as everyone else—seeing what he put out into the world instead of looking for clues that it was just an illusion.

And he’d been serious outside the rink a few weeks back when he’d vowed he hadn’t drunk alcohol since the past summer. She knew he wasn’t a liar and yet she hadn’t believed him. She hadn’t wanted to because it was easier to be scared.

He gave an apologetic shrug.

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