Page 50 of The Photo
She moistens her lips with a low, torturous sweep. “Okay. And just for your reference—you’re the only guy who can fill the position.”
“I can fill you in a lot of different positions.” I quirk my brows, wrap her hip and jerk her into me. “You already own me, Rowan Hudson, vows or not.” Then I seal that truth with another kiss.
Epilogue
We’re finally on our way. Rowan has no clue what I’ve got up my sleeve, but I know she’ll love it.
After she graduated from college, life raced ahead. I finished some big projects, and she started a freelance photography business. We both went back and forth to Canada for a few months, with my city apartment being our main home. During that time, we’ve sketched out plans for our future, and this little detail will cement everything together.
“Why are you driving into the arsehole of nowhere?” Rowan eyes me from the front passenger seat of our rental car. The GPS pronounces some oddly named road that sounds like a naughty Leprechaun. “You know I’ll need to eat soon?” She scowls.
I laugh softly. “There’s a village up ahead and guess what?”
“What?” She cocks a brow at me.
“It has a bakery with glazed donuts and the best coffee for miles.”
“Just by saying it has the best coffee for miles does not mean it tastes good. It just means that’s all they’ve got to offer, and you’re stuck with it.” She fires me a snarky smile. The indicator blinks as we take the next left and follow a narrow tree lined track. “Maybe now would be a good time to tell you I’m suffering from travel sickness.” Rowan pushes the button on the inside of the door, and the window glides down an inch. A waft of fresh Irish air blows into the car and carries strands of hair across her face.
“Since when do you get that?” I know everything about her, and motion sickness has never been mentioned.
“Since five months ago,” she says it very matter of factly. “Remember the flight back from Toronto when the air stewardesses gave me boiled sweets to help with the nausea.”
“Itwasa bad flight,” I agree. “You spent a lot of time in the toilet. I thought you had the flight shits.” I joke. Rowan swats my arm and giggles. “Anyway, we’re nearly at our destination.” My fingers drum the steering wheel, and I hum along to the song on the radio.
“You’re acting peculiar, Mr. Adams.” She narrows her eyes and lifts her chin. Then, through a parting in the evergreen trees an impressive period property comes into view. “What is this place?” She gasps, awkwardly leaning forward to study the architecture. “Who lives here?”
“The Adams family,” I chuckle.
She laughs with me. “Yeah, I can see Morticia Addams answering the door to that place.”
“The woman who will answer that door is way hotter than her.”
“Is Morticia even hot to begin with? Eh––what’s that’s supposed to mean?” Rowan rotates her head to glare at me. “What do you mean the woman who answers the door is hotter—have you met her?”
“I’m in love with her.”
“Noah?”
“This is our new home, Mrs. Adams. I bought it for you.” I grin. This is fucking epic.
“What?” Her small hand rests on her belly.
“The sunrise over those hills is stunning.” I point to the landscape of evergreen trees and rising peaks. “It’s the best place for our new venture, don’t you think?”
Being back here gives me chills. Good chills. The kind of rush that feels like the pieces of my life have been strategically maneuvered to meet at this very point in time. Rowan dreams of teaching photography workshops and running getaways for creative minds. I just want to make her happy and have a little piece of solitude in between running my elite modeling agency with Alexa.
Our new mansion isn’t exactly Downtown Abbey stately home grandeur. It’s only got fourteen bedrooms-––two have been newly refurbished. It will cater for creative retreats and give us privacy at the same time.
I purposely reduce the speed of the car, so the tires crunch over the gravel with every slow revolution, and we cruise along the driveway with bordering wildflower meadows. Vibrant greens are dotted with orange and red poppies, purple foxgloves and an abundance of pretty pink petals so small you could almost miss them amidst the thick blades of grass. “It’s all ours,” I sing. When I pull up the handbrake, Rowan presses her nose to the window and looks up through the gap. “Wait here,” I instruct.
I jump out of the car with a burst of adrenaline. This is my forever home with my soul mate. My shoes hit the tiny stones, and I jog around the hood to the passenger side.
The pads of her fingers squeak over the glass when she clears the cloudy breath marks from the window. I yank the door handle, and she peers out at me from her black leather seat, looking somewhat bewildered. “We ownthisplace?” she repeats with a cute wrinkle of her nose.
I nod. “Do you like it?” When I played this out in my mind she was screaming with joy and covering my face in kisses. Those sugary hot kisses fuel my instincts into fuck mode. She has that effect on me, even more so now that she’s my wife.
Rowan swallows and bats her lashes repeatedly, releasing a long breath. “It’s massive.”
