Page 277 of Broken Saint

The patterned floor tiles are beautiful, as is the chunky dark wood furniture that fills the room. It’s totally in keeping with the style of the house.

I am in love.

Colt leads me through every room, explaining how it used to be and all the ways it’s changed in the last few weeks.

I’m in awe. How he’s managed to oversee this project, train, and spend half his time with me in Texas, I’ve got no idea. But he’s killed it. This place is just amazing.

“Want to see the best part?” he asks, guiding me back toward the staircase in the entrance way.

“It gets better?”

“Uh-huh. Up you go.”

His stare burns into my back as I climb.

“I know you’re staring at my ass, Rogers.”

“Too fucking right, I am, Mrs. Rogers.”

The name gives me pause, and I almost trip up the stairs.

“Careful,” he warns, his large hands wrapping around my waist to steady me. “You’re carrying precious cargo. Speaking of…check this out,” he says, throwing a door open almost right at the top of the stairs.

“Oh my god,” I sob as emotion clogs my throat and burns the backs of my eyes. “You’ve made a nursery.”

My vision is blurry as I step into the room. It’s painted in a soft caramel color. All the furniture is white, and all the decorations are neutral. The only hint of a color is a stuffie sitting on the dresser in a Seattle Saints jersey.

“Do you like it?”

“Colt, I love it. It’s so beautiful.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Mad? Why would I be mad?”

“Because you didn’t choose it.”

I shake my head as I close the space between us and take his hands in mine. Staring up into his eyes, I make sure he can see how much I mean the words I’m about to say.

“I love it, Colt. I love that you’ve taken the time to select everything for our little one. I love you. This house…everything you’ve done. It’s unbelievable. I-It’s—” I choke out, overcome with emotion.

“I love you too,” he whispers.

“I think it’s time you showed me our new bedroom, don’t you?”

“I thought you’d never ask, Bombshell,” he says, tugging me out of the room with a wicked glint in his eye.

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

My heart jumps into my throat at the familiar voice, and I race toward the front door as Kane, Letty, and Kyan invite themselves in.

“You’re here,” I cry, racing toward my best friend and throwing my arms around her.

“I missed you,” she whispers in my ear.

“Me too. I’m sorry I?—”

“Hey, nope. None of that nonsense. We’re here. It’s Thanksgiving. We’re celebrating everything awesome that we have in our lives.”