Boss's Accidental Baby: A Billionaire Small Town Second Chance Romance (Secret Love) Page 15

  “I do,” I answered absolutely, gazing into Kit's eyes.

  “And do you Kit Harrison take Acacia Perry to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

  “I do,” he answered, caressing my cheek lovingly.

  “Then by the power vested in me in the state of Washington, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride,” he announced, smiling warmly between the two of us.

  Kit wrapped his arms around me, dipping me lowly, and kissed me passionately as our family and friends cheered loudly. I heard several family members shout things like 'finally' and 'about time' as they clapped. And after Kit had returned me to my standing position, my dad brought Noah back to me. Our little family, finally one family with one last name, and endless amounts of love.

  Epilogue

  Acacia

  It's finally happening, I thought fondly as I stood in the finished restaurant. My dream restaurant, the driving force in my life – besides my family, of course. And it only took a year of incredibly difficult decisions to make it happen. I sighed happily as I ran my hands along the oak wood tables and beamed as I studied the artwork hung carefully on beige walls.

  As I was walking through the restaurant, I felt a strong kick from my unborn child and touched my stomach lovingly. “You love it, too, don't you? I can't wait for you to see it, my love. There are so many bright colors and wonderful smells for you to experience.”

  I began speaking to her about every little detail, from the flooring to the light fixtures. And I smiled fondly as I remembered how much fun it had been going through catalogs to pick everything out. The most satisfying part by far had been getting my permits approved; I remember jumping up and down, and then immediately regretting it as I'd been twenty-five-weeks’ pregnant at the time.

  Sure, I'd originally wanted to save the money to buy it myself, but Kit had been adamant about doing it for our four-year wedding anniversary. Of course, I caved when he gave me those big brown eyes and jutted out his lip like a kid. But in the end we both got what we wanted and I couldn't be happier.

  I heard the bell ding over the front door and turned around to see my husband and son walk through. “Hey, how was school, little man?” I asked as Noah ran into my legs and hugged them tightly.

  “It was good. I made a bunch of new friends and Mrs. Glad said that I'm a smart boy,” he boasted, reaching up to rub my stomach affectionately.

  I ruffled his hair and smiled at Kit. “Great job, buddy. I'm so proud of you!”

  He grinned up at me and kissed my belly. “When am I going to meet my baby sister again?”

  I chuckled, having heard this question a million times a day for months. “Soon, buddy. She's still got some growing to do, but when it gets cold, it'll be time. I'll remind you close to the time, okay?”

  “Okay, mommy!” he cheered, bouncing excitedly.

  Kit chuckled, ruffling Noah's hair. “Why don't you go find a table and start on your homework, kiddo? We'll get out of here and go get ice cream soon.”

  “Okay, Daddy! I want a big sundae!” Noah cheered again, bouncing his way to a table in the vicinity.

  Once we were alone, Kit embraced me warmly and placed a loving kiss on my lips. “How are my girls doing?”

  “Mommy is tired but very excited for the grand opening tomorrow. And little miss is pushing on my bladder like it's her job, but she is doing flips in there, so I think she is excited, too.” I laughed.

  He caressed my cheek and beamed. “I'm so proud of you, Acacia. And I know that your restaurant is going to be a huge success, especially with all the time you took to carefully pick all of this. I mean, look at this place! It's spectacular!”

  I looked around again and smiled proudly. “You really think so? You're not just saying that because you're my husband and you have to, right?”

  He chuckled and rolled his eyes playfully. “No, sweetheart. I'm speaking as a businessman who has a chain of successful restaurants. You did an amazing job and you're going to be a millionaire by the end of this year, guaranteed.”

  “I really hope so! Everything leading up to this moment has been so smooth; it would be devastating to be a complete failure.” I laughed nervously, looking at my stomach as I thought about what it would mean for both my children.

  Kit raised my chin and looked at me sincerely. “You're not going to fail, sweetheart. Not with the time and effort you made in college. It was all for this moment and you're going to do great, I know it.”

  I stood on my toes and kissed his lips sweetly. “I love you, Kit. Thank you for pushing me to do this. If it wasn't for you, I don't know when I would've finally opened my restaurant.”

  “I love you, too, Acacia, and I believe in you more than anything in the world.” He smiled, kissing my lips again. “Now, what do you say we go get ice cream and then get some sleep before the big day?”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  — THE END —

  Mechanic’s Home Run SNEAK PEEK

  Hazel came right out of left field,

  and so did her unexpected pregnancy…

  All I did was fill up for gas and there she was.

  Grease smudge across her cheek.

  Overalls and an old band tee.

  Hair in a messy bun.

  But, oh, that smile. It got me the second I saw it.

  If I wasn’t so much of a gentleman, I would have pushed her onto the hood of the nearest car and well…

  I’ll let you fill in the blanks.

  Just know that I was thinking about it, too.

  For a whole season.

  The next thing I know it’s off-season and I’m riding in her pickup truck.

  She starts telling me all about her dad and then, all of a sudden, she’s proposing.

  Talk about a curveball.

  But hey, that’s why they call me an MVP.

  I can hit those curveballs right out of the park.

  So, yes, I agreed to fake a marriage.

  Every great actor knows he has to make his part believable.

  Oh, there’d be flowers – rose petals even.

  Late nights.

  By the seventh-inning stretch, it was a totally different ball game.

  Rejection. Fireworks. Tragedy. Pregnancy.

  We had it all.

  But most of all, I had caught feelings.

  It wasn’t a game of pretend anymore.

  This wasn’t some throwaway game in Spring Training.

  This was game seven of the World Series.

  It was time to get that diamond ring on her finger – to walk her down the aisle – for real.

  Man, I can’t believe I’m saying this but…

  I think I might love her more than baseball.

  But will she be there to witness my grand slam? Or will she be cheering for the other team?

  Prologue

  Hazel

  It was a typical November day, as far as I was concerned. Perhaps it was a little nippier than usual with a cold snap coming in from the north, but tucked away in the garage, I barely felt those arctic winds. And underneath the hood of my old pickup truck, I was actually working up a sweat.

  “Your fuel line has sprung a leak again.” It was my dad. He was under the truck and helping me with the repairs like he always did. We were a working pair — father and daughter — and the only certified mechanics for miles. And yet, it seemed that more often than not, I was fixing up my truck instead of anyone else’s. Most people would have brought it to the junkyard long ago, but I got a pretty stubborn streak from my father even though he would never dare admit it. As far as he was concerned, he wasn’t stubborn — he was always right.

  “Of course it is,” I answered. “I’ll patch it up until the replacement line arrives from the factory. I’m going to have to give them a call and check on the status. It better not be sitting at the warehouse…”

  “Let me call them. I’ll be sure to give them a piece of my mind.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s why
they delayed the delivery in the first place.”

  “They needed to hear what I had to say. It isn’t my fault that they took offense to the truth. Back in my day…” Dad went off to tell me how when he was a young man, people weren’t afraid to work for a living and that Americans were proud to work blue-collar jobs so long as it put food on the table. Nowadays? “These damned kids want nothing but their fancy phones and their good-for-nothing gadgets. I’m sorry but this new generation will be the death of this nation.” He pulled himself out from under the car and smeared grease across his brow in an attempt to wipe away the sweat that had gathered there. “It is a crying shame. I served this country. I laid my life on the line and for what?”

  Dad liked to rant. You could call it one of his pastimes, and left to his own devices, he’d go on for a good half hour if not more. Most of the time, I let him get whatever was bothering him off his chest, but today I caught sight of something you just didn’t see every day. “Dad. Would you look at that?”

  He stopped mid-sentence and followed the line of my outstretched finger. In the distance was a vintage car, cruising along Mr. Bayard’s cornfields. The pearl black paint job was made even more extravagant by the mid-morning sun and the contrast of green in the background. With every turn, the chrome finishing would reflect the sun just like a diamond might.

  “Who do you think it is?” I asked, squinting. “Must be an outsider because if someone around here had a car like that, we would know about it.”

  “Might be whoever bought that plot of land down by Berry Creek. The paper says it's some up-and-coming baseball player who just got signed to play for the Rockies, but I don’t believe a lick of what they say. Why would a fellow like that want to live all the way out here?”

  “Maybe he likes country living,” I answered while stepping forward and shielding my eyes against the sun. The car was making its way down the road and toward our shop, but it was still too far away for me to identify its make and model.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Dad took off his ball cap and slapped it against his knee. “I’d bet all of my life savings that car is an Alfa Romeo.”

  “An Alfa Romeo?” I raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Those cars are some of the rarest ones on the market. There’s no way one’s cruising through Elk Haven right now. We’d both have to be dreaming.”

  “Ten dollars says it's a Romeo.”

  “I thought you were betting your life savings,” I countered. “Or has your confidence faltered?”

  “My eyesight is not what it used to be and I know better than to make a gamble I’m sure to regret.” He held out his hand.

  I shook it, sealing the deal. Honestly, I still didn’t know what exactly was coming our way, but the odds were in my favor and when I gamble, I like to gamble with an ace up my sleeve.

  So, we waited, trying to act as casually as we could, which was easier said than done because we were both anxious to know which one of us was right and which one of us would be forking over ten dollars.

  I went back to my truck but I kept looking over my shoulder. It was only a minute or so before the vintage beauty rolled up to our gas pump, but it felt like an eternity. As casually as I could, I walked up to the vehicle, waiting for the owner to step out and tell me to fill her up.

  The stranger did not keep me waiting for very long. He emerged, rolling to his full height. He was much taller than I was but that wasn’t saying much since I had graduated puberty at the five-foot mark. If I had to guess, he was 6’2 maybe even 6’3. But what got my tongue tied was not the fact that he towered over me. It was the brilliance of his eyes. They might be described as hazel, but when he smiled down at me they seemed golden, shining from within. “Mind filling her up?” he asked with a honeyed voice that matched the warmth of his eyes. “I thought I was going to run out of gas before I saw you guys on the map. It must be my lucky day.”

  “Premium?” I asked even though it was obvious that a car of this caliber was probably fuel injected.

  “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Most of the time I’m fueling pickup trucks and dirt bikes. Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure of something this nice dropping by. Might I ask what it is you’re driving?” I caught my dad creeping toward the car at the very edge of my vision, ready to pounce on my ten dollars, but I was sure he wouldn’t get a dime out of me.

  “It’s a 1939 Alfa Romeo Lungo Spider.”

  “Aha!” My dad jumped forward. “What did I tell you? I might be getting old but I still know what I’m talking about. I know an Alfa Romeo when I see one and this one — oh, baby — this looks like it just came off the showroom floor and that makes me ten dollars richer.”

  “I’ll pay you later. My wallet is in the shop,” I answered a little begrudgingly. I couldn’t believe that he was right. The odds had to have been a million to one.

  The owner of the car looked quite confused. He was scratching the side of his head by the time his tank was full. I returned the fuel dispenser to its holster and explained the situation because, clearly, my dad had no intention of doing so since he was too busy gawking at the car. “We had a bet,” I said. “My dad said it was an Alfa Romeo and I told him that it couldn’t be because Romeos aren’t exactly a dime a dozen. I think one just came off the auction block after being sold for twenty million dollars or thereabouts. A car worth that much money just doesn’t come rolling through a town like this one, but I guess I was mistaken because here you are.” I leaned against the gas pump and kicked my foot behind me for support, semi-conscious of the fact that I looked like a grease monkey while this guy was wearing designer labels. “Where’d you happen to come across her? A barn find or something?”

  “Would you mind popping the hood?” My father had surfaced from his dreamlike state just long enough to say those words before he went right back to his open-mouth gawking. Sometimes he could be so embarrassing, but I guess that’s just what dads do — they embarrass you.

  “Sure thing,” answered the stranger. “I have a lot of people wanting to look at my car, but it seems you two actually know what you’re talking about. Have you guys been here long?”

  “Pops worked here with his father just as soon as he came back from the army and then he got me into the family business just as soon as I could walk. So, yeah, we’ve been here a while. Dad loves the shop and I do, too. It will never make us rich or anything, but hey, we’re happy doing what we do and that has to count for something.” I joined my dad at the hood. With an audience, he began rattling off all his observations like he had suddenly inherited the vehicle. “Dad, I’m pretty sure he knows all this.” I had to nudge him with my elbow to get him to stop. “So, again, I have to ask, where did you find this beauty?”

  The stranger ran his fingertip along some of the chrome like he was caressing a lover. “Well, just like your dad, my dad enlisted in the army, following in the footsteps of my grandfather and great grandfather. He made it through his first tour but not through his second. My mother, pregnant at the time of his death, sold the car to keep food on the table and a roof over her head. She was heartbroken to let the car go because it had been in the family for so long. You see, my great grandfather bought it while he was serving in Europe and had it shipped back to the states where he rebuilt it piece by piece in a shop of his own. All he knew was that he liked the look of it — he had no idea it would one day cost me twenty-million dollars to get it back.”

  “Wait, you were the one who bought this car from auction for twenty-million dollars?”

  “I still have the receipt in the glove compartment if you don’t believe me.” He pointed his thumb at the car’s interior. It was the first time I had glanced inside and it showcased the same workmanship that was obvious on the exterior of the car. Whoever had worked on the restoration obviously knew what they were doing. I only wished I was the one to have my hand at it.

  “So, I have to ask you something else.”

  “What might that
be?” he asked with a raise of his eyebrow whilst leaning against the car just like I had leaned against the gas pump. He was so casual about it like he didn’t care about the value of the car — only that he got the pleasure of driving it— of getting to call it his baby. Honestly, if I had this guy’s money I would probably act the same way. I couldn’t stand the people who bought vintage cars just to hide them away in some museum. Did they not understand that cars were meant to be driven — to be enjoyed?

  “What brings you to a place like this with a car like that?”

  “Just bought some land up the road. Driving in from the airport. Like I said, I was just about to run out of gas when I saw you guys on the map. Looks like you’re the only gas pump in town.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “A very lucrative monopoly when the town has a population of five hundred — maybe five hundred and one. I think Marbella just had a baby.”

  He chuckled. “Still, it’s something.”

  “So, are you really a baseball player? Thorin Gorecki? They say you got signed to the Rockies as a power hitter and that you’re going to win them the World Series, but as I hear it, you’re just a rookie.” My dad had suddenly interjected himself into the conversation. It would seem he had gotten his classic car fix and was now much more interested in the baseball player standing before him. Next to cars, baseball was one of his favorite things. When I was a little girl, he used to count his favorite people on his right hand. I was number one, my mother was number two, Henry Ford three, Thurman Munson four, and President William Henry Harrison the fifth. Harrison always confused me. Why show favoritism to a president who was only in office for 31 days? But Dad liked to say that a man with so lethal a dose of stubborn dedication deserved to be admired.