Chapter 29-The Epilogue

AN: It's been a wild ride, lots of steam and heat-and a scary moment, too! I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did writing it. Thanks for all the reviews and the show of support...It is unbelievably humbling that I am at nearly six hundred reviews with this story-you guys are amazing...Next adventure coming sooner than later, I am sure...Love, Kricket

"Okay, move it left, Hot Stuff."

He grunted, a touch of sweat on his forehead from effort, and gave her a look. "Baby, I am trying."

She smiled, patiently...until he began to move right.

"Derek, my left, not yours!"

"Woman, would you just let me-"

She sighed dramatically, interrupting him. "The book makes it look much easier."

He didn't say a word, only glared at her from his position underneath her.

"Well, look," she said with faux innocence, reaching for said book. "It even has pictures."

"That's it." Derek proceeded to toss his Allen wrench and screwdriver to the side to reach for his jumpy, very pregnant wife's ankles.

The nursery was almost completely done, except for the crib they'd purchased and the mobile Penelope had made. The room was a sunny light yellow with white wainscoting on the bottom. On the wall were classic pictures from Beatrix Potter books. Penelope had loved those books growing up, and Derek loved that Penelope loved them, so it was a good choice to him. In the corner of the room was a rocking chair made of oak that Derek's mother had used to rock him to sleep. On the back of that chair rested a crocheted afghan in light, soft baby colors. It was Penelope's blanket that her mother had made for her.

Derek was quite proud of the work they'd done, but he was frustrated as hell with this stupid crib. He'd rather make it from scratch than follow that mumble jumble to put it together.

"Everyone knows cribs are not easy to assemble," he huffed.

"Says who?" she asked, hands on her hips, looking down at him.

"Says every man who has ever attempted to assemble a some assembly required item," he added, moving to a seated position.

By the time he was done sitting up, he was slightly less grumpy. Probably because he was caressing his wife's calves.

"Oh, phooey," she continued. "If you read the instruction manual, like normal people..."

"Instruction manuals are for the weak," he explained. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I always read them," she countered. "Reid does, too."

"See?" he added with a grin, working his hands behind her knees. "I rest my case."

She rolled her eyes. "Seems to me that proved that instruction manuals are for the intelligent..."

The way she stopped, drawing out her comment, he knew the zinger was coming. He stopped moving his hands.

"So, what does that make you?" she teased wickedly, then squealed as she turned and attempted to run away.

He easily caught her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Being nine months pregnant had slowed her down quite a bit!

"You are such a little shit," he murmured, kissing the side of her neck.

"But I'm your shit," she replied, leaning her neck to the side.

He kept his kisses going on her neck. "And I don't hate all instruction manuals, sugar."

A shiver rode down her spine, thinking about the book that he meant. That one was their favorite nighttime reading by far! Of course, that might change with Junior on the way...

She laughed at that thought. He was right, what he'd said earlier to her. It didn't fade, this passion they had together. She had a feeling it would last forever.

With that thought, she turned in his arms and asked him with an arched brow, "We're on position eighty-four, right?"

He gave her a quick kiss before picking her up. "Let's go make it to eighty-five..."