Wild Curves Bonus Scene

Six years later…

As I push open the door to the cabin, the sounds of giggles reach my ears. The lights are all out and it’s deceptively quiet, apart from the giggling and shushing noises coming from behind the kitchen counter.

“Hmm, I wonder where everyone is.”

I make a show of hanging up my coat while talking loudly to myself and pretending not to hear the giggling.

I handed the dinner service over to my sous chef so I could be home early tonight. Arlo told me Benji had been working on something he wanted to surprise me with. 

I’ve got a team of pastry chefs working for me now, and it takes the pressure off and allows me more time with my family. 

Travis long ago handed over the decision making on all things dessert to me. When you’ve got an award winning pastry chef working in your restaurant, you’re able to let her call the shots. A few years ago, I convinced him to expand the kitchen and make desserts our specialty. 

Tourists come from all over now to sample our dishes. 

I’ve been offered jobs all over the county, and every so often Emerald Lodge makes me an offer to come and work for them. They can’t understand why I’d want to stay in a boutique restaurant in the mountain run by an MC rather than work at their fancy ski lodge. 

I’ve got three very good reasons to stay where I am, and they’re all hiding behind my kitchen counter.

“I might get me a glass of water,” I say loudly.

As I take a big step toward the kitchen, a little boy jumps up from behind the counter.

“Surprise!”

I put a hand to my chest in exaggerated shock. Benji beams at himself, jumping up and down in excitement.

“We scared you, Mommy!”

“You did.”

Arlo stands up from where he’s been crouching, letting Olivia free from his grip. She runs to me, unsteady on her thick toddler legs. 

“Mommy.”

I scoop her into my arms and bury my face in her sweet-smelling hair.

“We baked cake.”

Benji scowls at his sister. “I was going to tell her,” he whines.

“Hey.” Arlo gives him a sharp look, and he snaps his mouth shut. 

“I baked you a cake.” He emphasizes the I while giving his sister a pointed look.

There’s a tray on the counter with a covering over it, and Arlo lifts it off to reveal a tower of chocolate goo. Under there somewhere I’m sure there’s a cake, but the icing is so thick it smothers it. Sliding down the sides and covering every surface are berries. Strawberries, blueberries, and wild blackberries that grow in thick bushes behind the cabin.

Benji’s smiling so widely that it’s infectious.

“I made it for you. Because we love you.”

There’s a sting behind my eyes, and I swipe at the tears that threaten. My heart fills for my family. 

Arlo, sensing my emotion, puts a strong arm around me. “He did bake it mostly by himself. Olivia picked the berries and helped decorate. But he did mostly everything else.”

“I’m gonna be a chef just like you, Mommy,” Benji tells me, and my eyes well up again.

“That’s awesome, honey. Let’s have a taste.”

Arlo cuts thick slices while I perch on a bar stool. Benji climbs onto my lap, telling me all about how he made the cake, while Olivia clings to her daddy’s legs, giggling when he pretends to shake her off.

We get our plates and Benji watches me eagerly while I take my first bite. I’m worried I’ll have to pretend that I like it, but I don’t have to. Chocolate explodes on my taste buds with the tart taste of the first season’s berries.

“This is really good.”

Benji beams and takes his own messy forkful, making sure his piece doesn’t have any berries on it.

I don’t like berries, but I know you do, Mommy.”

He’s astute for a five-year-old, his brown eyes always observing and never missing a thing. “How did you read the recipe?” I ask.

“Daddy helped me, but I remembered some of it.”

By the time we’ve finished, the kids have cake smeared across their faces, but they’re laughing together, playing a game on the kitchen floor that involves flying a strawberry around like a rocket. Benji makes whooshing noises, playing it up every time his sister giggles.

Arlo pours me a glass of wine and perches next to me on a stool. 

“We’d better get these two to bed.”

His hand slides around me as he says it, and there’s a familiar stirring at his touch. I lean into him and sigh contently. 

“In a minute.”

I sip my wine as my husband tells me about his day, the sound of my kids giggling warming my heart as much as the strong arm around me.

I’m so glad I let Arlo talk me into having kids. My life is full, and I can’t imagine it any other way.

I’ve got the restaurant, and that’s great. But I’d give it up in a heartbeat for the three people right here. They’re my heart, my reason for breathing, and the only thing that really matters to me.