LANA
Three Years Later
It never fails to amaze me how with most people we’d call polite, you can pinpoint exactly what it is that makes them a considerate person.
They perform a series of socially acceptable gestures, like always saying thank you. Holding the door open. Giving up their seat on the train.
Raph does those things, of course. But with him, it’s the micro moments that elevate him. He observes people he’s interacting with, to know exactly what kind of attention they need. He seeks out the person sitting alone.
He gives every single person he engages in conversation with his undivided rapt attention. Like the elderly woman at the front counter of Pink Cheeks. I’ve just come into the store—Raph knows this because the bell jingled, and because I made a mess trying to put my dripping umbrella into the canister set by the door for that purpose. It’s nearly closing, which is when I said I’d be here.
But he’s leaning, elbows on the counter, laughing at something the woman says.
It’s only when she digs in her purse for something—her frequent reader card maybe, or a book to return—that Raph looks over at me.
And when he does? His whole face lights up, like the sun has risen directly in front of him.
I feel the heat of that gaze. My stomach does the same flip it did the first time he looked at me like this.
I don’t think I’ll ever stop turning into a schoolgirl every time Raph looks at me.
I unbutton my overcoat and begin a stroll through our latest release shelf as Raph finishes with the woman. I love perusing the shelves of my shop as if I’m a visitor. I run my fingers over the spines, getting almost the same tingling in my chest Raph gives me whenever I’m near him. Raph and romance books—add my kids and I’ve got everything I need for a life of pure bliss.
Sometimes I need to remind myself I do have that. And Mom finally living in town with us, too, catching all the babies at her clinic.
My finger catches on a book I remember I have on my TBR, and I pull it out, scanning the first few pages. It’s a story about a widower who meets a ghost, who may or may not be his dead wife. I get so engrossed I barely notice when the bell dings as the woman leaves.
I feel arms wrap around my waist a moment later, the brush of hair against my cheek.
I turn around in Raph’s arms, the bloom of love for my husband comingling with a tight ache in my throat this book is already giving me. “You can’t ever die,” I whisper.
“I—” Raph frowns, pulling back so he can inspect my face. Then he glances down at the book and a look of understanding washes over him. “Okay,” he says. “I won’t.”
I cry-laugh. “You can’t promise that!”
“But you asked me to. I’ll never not make a promise you ask me to, Sunshine.”
Now I’m just crying, and Raph tucks my head under his chin. “Oh, my sweet girl. You need to stop reading so much.”
I laugh-sob into his sweater. I’m definitely hormonal these days.
When I finally calm down, I sigh, inhaling my husband’s scent. He’s wearing this cologne I gave him for Christmas last year from a new shop in town that makes custom, naturally sourced scents. The cologne is called Cedar & Smoke and I’m obsessed with it.
“You’re smelling me again,” Raph says, kissing my temple.
“I can’t help it.”
“I know.” Raph sighs. “You’re hot for forest fires.”
“It does not smell like a forest fire!”
“Sorry, boss.”
The word is loaded between us, in the most delicious way. Ever since the night after my shop’s opening, when he lay back in bed and told me he’d do whatever his boss told him to.
My lower half suddenly feels like it’s filled with warm honey, and when I look up to see Raph’s pupils blown, his bottom lip between his teeth, the feeling spreads.
“What happens if I kiss the boss right now?” Raph asks, running a thumb against my cheekbone. It’s the same gesture he made right before he kissed me at the altar two years ago, and my stomach goes fluttering back there, the wanting eclipsed just for a moment by my love for him. This man—he makes me feel everything all at once. I don’t think that’ll change no matter how much time passes.
“Depends on if there’s anyone in the store,” I whisper.
“Let me check.” Raph practically tosses me into a bookshelf as he sprints to the door, where there’s a clear view of the whole space. “Yo!” he yells for good measure. “Anyone in here?”
I laugh, pressing a hand to my forehead.
But I stop laughing when he scoops me up in his arms and carries me to my office in the back, whispering all the ways he’s going to let me boss him around.
***
Later that evening as we pull into the driveway at Mom’s place, Raph takes my hand. “You ready?”
We’re in the front seat of Camp Nampula, our trusty kitted-out camper, for our first ever winter road trip. We’ve pulled the kids out of school two weeks before winter break, my shop’s being handed over to my more than capable staff, and we’re heading from the rainy Pacific Northwest down to California, where we’ll be spending the holidays with Raph’s dad.
We’re going over to the mainland tonight to get the border crossing out of the way. Tomorrow we begin the drive down south.
When Raph confessed on our first Christmas together that the holiday was the only time he had fond memories of being with his dad, I suggested we do it down there one year. It’s taken three years for him to feel up for it. And that’s only after I sweetened the deal by suggesting we make it an epic road trip, with stops for storm-watching in Oregon, a detour into the Grand Canyon, and a theme park for the kids.
“I’m ready,” I say, pressing Raph’s hand to my cheek. “Are you?”
Raph nods. The nerves he had about giving his dad this chance to reconnect seem to have finally been vanquished with his excitement about roleplaying Clark Griswold for the kids.
“I’m fucking pumped, if I’m being honest,” he says.
I laugh, my chest buoyant. I’d been worried about him, but I know deep down the more he became a father to my girls, the more he’s been wanting to form at least some kind of relationship with his own dad.
“Good,” I say. “Me too.”
“Come here,” Raph says, releasing my seatbelt and pulling me onto his lap. There’s not a lot of room in his seat, but we make it work. I laugh as he nuzzles my neck. “Thank you,” he whispers, his breath warm in my ear.
I know it’s for making him take this trip. But I kiss his nose. “You’re welcome. I know you love having me on your lap.”
This man’s made me a ham, just like him.
But just as he takes my mouth against his, there’s a loud rapping at the door.
“This is not allowed!” Nova’s deeply irritated voice is muffled through the glass. “Remember?”
I sigh, pressing my forehead against Raph’s. We promised Nova we’d limit the PDAs on this trip. To a degree. “I guess I’ll see you again in a month?”
“No way,” Raph says. “We’re experts at sneaking it in—we’ll be fine—”
“What did the girl just say?” comes a grumbly male voice. A grizzled face appears next to my daughter’s.
“Okay, it’s going to be a little harder with him here,” Raph admits. But he rolls down the window. Nova is standing next to Stu Green, the town grump. Mom comes up next to him, slipping her arm around his back.
She beams. Whether it’s at me or her boyfriend, I’m not sure, but I can’t help smiling back.
“What are you guys waiting for?” I ask them. The doors are open.
Aurora, already on the right side of the camper, is the first to get in. “Well, I think you guys are cute,” she says, tossing her giant bag of teddy bears into the camper. At eight, she’s just as sweet as she was when Raph and I first got together. The only difference is her hair’s longer, and she’s a few inches taller.
And she can pronounce all her letters.
“I call the back!” Nova says, pulling her headphones onto her ears as she comes in next. She’s eleven going on fifteen.
“I still can’t believe you’re not taking the I-5,” Stu gripes as he settles into his seat. “Stu,” Mom says, sliding in next to him. “You promised you wouldn’t backseat drive.”
“Sorry,” he grumbles. In the rearview, his lips curl up and he gives Mom a kiss on the cheek.
She giggles like a teenager.
I’d never have guessed my mom wanted to date again, let alone with a man who lives on a boat and prefers spending time with his paintbrush than people, but I’ve never seen either of them so happy.
“That’s everyone?” I ask.
“That’s everyone,” Aurora says, stroking the head of her pet turtle peeking out of her shirt.
“Then we’re off,” Raph says, reaching for my hand and placing it firmly on his thigh as he backs down the drive. “Straight into the sunshine.” He meets my eye as he angles the camper into the road and winks. “My favorite place to be.”
***
Thank you for reading this extra special Give & Take bonus scene. Want to stay in Redbeard Cove awhile longer?
The next book in the series, Over & Out is an enemies to lovers romance is coming June 2025. Preorder now so you don’t miss it!
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