“I have squirtable cheese and crackers,” she announced. “I also have a can of whipped cream and vanilla wafers. I have a fresh beer. Thus I have on my magical tray the makings of dinner and dessert, no muss, no fuss, no cleanup.”

He had no idea what she intended with that whipped cream but he knew what he was going to do with it.

He watched as Amy placed the tray at the end of the bed, moved to her side, slid off her slippers, shrugged off her robe and he took in the curves of his wife’s naked body as she joined him under the covers.

He rolled into her.

Her arms slid around him even as she warned, “You’re gonna knock over the beer, Mickey.”

He moved away from her, grabbed the beer, leaned into her to put it beside her glass of champagne and the bottle in its bucket on her nightstand before he went back to her.

He took in her soft skin, her fresh floral scent, the warmth in her pretty hazel eyes.

And he saw it there.

Ten hours ago, with her kids standing with her and his kids standing with him, they were married in Reverend Fletcher’s church.

They’d had two parties after.

One, a big, fancy one that Josie and Alyssa threw at Lavender House.

The other, a small, quieter one the old folks threw at Dove House.

His kids went to Rhiannon.

Her kids went to her ex.

And Mickey took his new wife to Jimbo’s hunting cabin for their three day honeymoon.

She had no idea where they were going.

When they parked outside it, they hadn’t even got out of his truck before he had to piss her off to stop her from crying.

That took no effort but she lost the pissed real quick when he carried her over the threshold.

If he still had any question, which he didn’t, her reaction to their honeymoon destination would have told him everything he needed to know.

His new wife needed his body beside her in their bed.

And anything else life threw at them, she would deal.

Then again, she was dealing with a five carat diamond on her finger.

“Finest woman I ever met,” he whispered.

Her hand cupped his jaw. “Mickey.”

“Love you, Mrs. Donovan.”

She closed her eyes and it swept through her face, something he’d seen countless times, something that never failed to move him, and fuck, fuck, he gave her that.

He gave it to her.

And each time he did, he got it.

She didn’t need fifteen million dollars.

She didn’t need all her money.

She needed to feel that feeling.

That was all she needed.

And it was only him who could give it.

She opened her eyes.

“Same here, Mickey.”

He grinned at her before he kissed her and he did that a lot for three days (and beyond).