“It was buried in the back of a cupboard. Here, scoot back.”
She did, putting her back against the headboard, and he set the tray in her lap. Pancakes, scrambled eggs with all sorts of stuff in them, coffee—
Misty guessed she did have all of the ingredients for this in her kitchen—milk, eggs, flour, sugar, cheese, ham—but she almost never took the time to put them all together. The ham and cheese were for sandwiches, the flour and sugar were wistfully optimistic for a time when she might actually bake something, the milk was for cereal.
This was better.
She took a long drink of coffee. “Mmm,” she sighed.
Ty shook his head, getting into bed next to her. “That noise you make when you drink coffee should be illegal.”
“But then you’d never get to hear it,” she objected, smiling. “I am the sheriff. I’d have to keep quiet or arrest myself.”
He laughed. “Okay. Illegal to do in public, how about that? Then I’m the only one who ever gets to hear it.”
“That sounds fair. I’ll see if I can get a new statute put in the books.” She took a bite of pancake. “Oh, wow, this is delicious.”
Ty had brought two forks, and he dug in with her. “Mmm. If I do say so myself, you’re right.”
“You’re going to spoil me,” Misty said, trying the eggs. They were fantastic, light and fluffy and perfect. “You keep bringing me coffee in bed, and now breakfast, too. I’m going to start getting used to it.”
Ty reached over and tilted her chin up for a syrup-flavored kiss. “Well,” he said quietly as they separated, “good. You deserve some spoiling. I hope you get so used to it that you expect it every morning for the rest of your life.”
Misty looked up at him, suddenly aware of a catch in her throat. “The rest of my life,” she repeated quietly.
“Because that’s ho
w long I’m going to be here with you,” he murmured. “Bringing you coffee in bed, and loving you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life.”
“Not fair,” Misty managed. “When do I get to bring you coffee in bed and love you more than anything I’ve ever loved in my life?”
He laughed that big laugh that she loved. “We’ll take turns,” he promised.
Misty kissed him again. “Deal.”
Epilogue: Misty
“I’m nervous,” Misty confessed.
“I promise, there’s no need to be nervous,” Ty said.
Misty frowned up at him. “I always spend Christmas working. I don’t know how to do Christmas.”
“Trust me, with Iris and the kids, you’re not going to have to do anything,” Ty said dryly. “They do Christmas enough for everyone.”
Ty’s whole family had decided, apparently as one, that they absolutely had to come up to Montana for Christmas to meet Ty’s new mate. They were on their way from the airport now, en masse.
“Why are they all showing up at once?” Misty wondered for the first time. “Aren’t most of the kids in college all over the place?”
“They coordinated their flights,” Ty said with a shrug. “They’re a force to be reckoned with, strategically.”
Thanks, no doubt in part, to ex-Marine Uncle Ty. Uncle Ty, whom they all adored, and whom Misty had stolen away to the frozen north. Her nervousness increased.
“Here they come!” Ty said, sounding delighted. He went to the door, where a big van was pulling into the drive. Misty took a deep breath and followed.
The crowd that piled out of the van seemed, at first, to be impossibly large, like Ty’s family was its own football team or something. Eventually, they resolved into eight distinct people, but it took some careful attention on Misty’s part.
“Misty, this is my sister, Iris.” Ty had his hand on her shoulder and was moving forward to hug a tall, beautiful woman with her hair in a million tiny braids.