The soft sound of my husband’s voice singing wakes me from a light slumber. Pushing up onto my elbow, I squint at the time to see it’s the middle of the night.
I’m not even surprised that he is taking care of Eliza without telling me. He’s never been the type of husband that I’ve had to ask for help. He’s always jumped in with everything and been an equal partner, including raising our kids.
I love that about him because it’s made it that much easier for me to keep up with my college classes. I’m set to graduate in just a few months with my bachelor’s degree. I’ve already been accepted at a prestigious school with an excellent veterinary medicine program.
My dreams of getting to work with animals are coming true, but my bigger dream of raising a family with the man I love is also coming true.
When I put on Hunter’s flannel robe now, it’s worn and soft in places. I’ve had to patch it several times now, but I still love it so much. He keeps complaining that I take his clothes, but I think secretly he loves seeing me in them.
I tiptoe down the hallway to the nursery, careful not to hit that one squeaky board in the doorway. Hunter is on the tiny sofa, rocking our six-month-old baby, Eliza. He’s smiling as he sings an old lullaby that Emma May taught him.
Eliza looks up at her dad, spellbound by his song and soft tenor. Hunter loves both of his kids fiercely. We want to have a big family, but we’re also not rushing. We figure the babies will arrive when they’re meant to.
I join Hunter on the sofa, stepping around Leonardo and Donatello who are on the floor, snoring loudly. I glance toward Everett’s bed. Frosty is sleeping near his head while Michelangelo and Raphael are on his feet.
The dogs that used to be so protective over me are now Everett and Eliza’s biggest protectors. They are endlessly patient with our growing children, treating them as beloved members of their pack.
“You could have woken me,” I whisper, my voice croaky from lack of sleep as Hunter ends the latest lullaby.
Eliza’s little eyes are starting to drift closed. Her belly is full, and she’s safe and warm in her daddy’s arms.
“I was up already,” he insists. Despite our busy growing family, Hunter still continues to publish books. He doesn’t write as many as he used to because he spends most of his time as a full-time dad.
He told me once that he’d had years to work on his career and build it up, and now he’s in a season where he gets to be with his kids. He wouldn’t trade that for anything.
“Did Eva figure out her latest plot problem?” I ask. He still hasn’t revealed his true identity to his fans. I don’t think he ever will. He’s keeping her mysterious for them. That’s part of the appeal of Eva Nightshade.
He shakes his head. “No, we’re just going to throw in another gunfight.”
I chuckle. It’s what he always says when he gets stuck at a part in a book.
“Let me know if you need any help with the research,” I tell him, stressing that single word.
I’ve read every one of my husband’s books, those he published before he met me, and those he published after. Well, let’s say his steamy scenes keep getting steamier. But I’m here for it, and so apparently are his readers, who continue giving him five-star reviews.
Everett rouses from bed and squints at the loveseat where his dad and I are. “Santwa Cwaus?”
It’s what he’s been asking for ages. Christmas isn’t for several weeks, but Hunter wanted to get an early start on shopping for gifts. That was a mistake because now everyday, Everett wants to know when Santa is going to visit him.
“Not yet,” I tell him as he shuffles from his bed and climbs onto the sofa next to me. He cuddles in my arms, having that distinctive smell and warmth that only toddlers have. I love that our little family is nestled together.
“What do you want when Santa comes?” Hunter asks.
I glare. He’s been keeping a list of every single item that Everett asks for. I’m afraid of what the living room is going to look like on Christmas morning. When it comes to his kids, Hunter is a big softie. He’d spoil them rotten if I let him.
My mom is almost as bad. Every Christmas, I have to rein her and Hunter in. I’ve started directing their energy toward a local charity which helps provide Christmas gifts for kids in need. They still go overboard, but at least, it’s going to a good cause.
“Twuk,” Everett says.
“That’s a good one,” I answer, ruffling his hair.
He yawns and puts his head on my shoulder.
“Gotta go back to bed, buddy,” I tell him, recognizing he’s only awake because we’re in here. He’s normally a solid sleeper and doesn’t seem to be woken up by Eliza very often.
I carry him back to his bed and spend long minutes snuggling him until he drifts back to sleep, no doubt dreaming of trucks gifted from Santa.
When the kids are back to sleep, we grab the baby monitor and go to the kitchen to make hot chocolate. While it’s not quite Christmas yet, the late autumn temperatures have been dropping at night, leaving a distinct chill in the air.
Hunter makes hot chocolate just the way I like it, giving me extra marshmallows and plenty of sugar. He’s always so sweet to me.
We sip our drinks on the front porch under the stars. These are my favorite late nights, getting to stare up at the big vast sky with my husband by my side. Sometimes we spend hours talking about our dreams and sometimes we stand in silence, quietly admiring the beauty of nature around us.
Hunter puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. He makes a soft hum of contentment. “Have I told you lately how proud I am of you?”
I giggle. “Only every day.”
Hunter always lets me know how proud he is of me. He’s proud of me for how hard I’m working toward my degree. He supports my idea of becoming a veterinarian, and our kennel is growing by leaps and bounds every year.
“You’re a fantastic mother, a dedicated student, and a wonderful wife. You’re amazing,” he whispers his praise.
My heart swells at his words. He admires me for everything I do but he’s made it clear that if I’m not happy or my dreams ever change, that he’d still be just as proud of me. “Some days, I can’t believe this is our life. It feels like a fairytale.”
“It is a fairytale,” Hunter answers. “It’s our fairytale.”
We stay outside underneath the stars until long after we finish our hot chocolate. It’s only when I shiver that Hunter sends me a mischievous grin. “Did the hot chocolate not warm you up?”
I shiver again, this time more for show. “Not all the way. Maybe you have an idea of how I could warm up.”
“Of course I do, wife.” My big husband grins and tugs on my hand. He pulls me back into the cabin where we spend the rest of the night making love. Despite having two kids, our passion hasn’t diminished at all. We’re still wildly in love and we always will be.
***
If you loved Hunter and Holly's story, be sure to look for Nate's book, Her Cowboy Santa. He's the protective cowboy who falls for a stranded single mom and he's got a BIG present for her.
