BONUS EPILOGUE

And…The End.

Harper took a sip of her hot cocoa, stared at her laptop screen, the cursing blinker, then typed in the save title. Not Too Late for Love.

She’d changed Jack’s name, of course. And her own, and fictionalized the events—just enough that no one might recognize their story.

Well, except his entire family. And Penelope. And maybe some of Boo’s Air One Rescue buddies. And maybe readers of the initial story-slash-article.

Okay, whatever. Still…

It all led to a Happily Ever After.

“Harper, honey, do you like this color?” Her mother had come down the stairs, dressed in yoga pants and a paint-stained T-shirt. “I’m thinking of changing up your room?—”

“You mean your office.”

Her mother sighed. “I did install the Murphy bed, just for you.”

Harper held up a hand. “It’s all good, Mom.” But probably, she needed to find a place of her own if she meant to stick around in Duck Lake.

Which, she most certainly did.

It had been over two weeks since Boo's wedding, since she and Jack had finally stopped dancing around their feelings for each other and decided to dive head first into this thrilling, terrifying, wonderful thing between them. She'd been staying with her mom while she apartment hunted (so far unsuccessfully) in Duck Lake, determined to make a real go of putting down roots here, with Jack. Every day she fell a little bit more in love with him, with his big heart and his quiet strength, the way he made her laugh and feel cherished, and challenged her to chase her dreams. Trusting him was as easy as breathing.

Outside, a soft layer of snow glistened under the afternoon sun, the trees bare, but shiny with ice. A crisp day, and maybe she’d find Jack out on the cleared ice on the lake, working on his puck-handling skills.

Just in case a pickup game of hockey broke out over at the Kingstons, of course.

Or, they found a romantic moment under the sway of stars, like last night, when she’d joined him on the ice.

And ended up in the snowbank, wrapped in Jack’s arms, a crash turned tackle turned…

I’m in love with you, Harper Malone.

Jack’s arms around her, his blue eyes in hers, intense, whisking heat through her, his mouth just a whisper from her own.

I love you too, Jack.

No worry about freezing to death with Jack around.

“Harper, the color—which one?”

Oh. She took the paint samples. “Lavender?”

“It’s a calming color. I was thinking that it might help my clients feel at peace.”

Oh, Mom. Peace came from inside, not outside.

Still. “The lighter one.”

“Yeah.” She looked at the colors. “I think I’ll go with the darker one.”

“Perfect.”

Her mother patted her arm. “Thanks.”

“Sure, Mom.”

A knock at the door, and she turned and spotted Jack, dressed in a green overcoat and a dark hat, waving, his breath puffing out in the cold.

She’d probably never get used to the way her heart jump started in her chest whenever she saw him.

Maybe she needed to hang out in the lavender room for a hot second.

She walked over, and opened the door. “Well, well. If it isn't the famous Jack Kingston on my doorstep.”

Oh, he was handsome, with that dark hair curling out the back of his hat, a hint of dark whiskers shading his chin. He smelled of pine, and the scent of coffee, so clearly he’d come from some maintenance project over at the King’s Inn. He held a tin container in his hand.

“You’re just in time.”

He raised an eyebrow. “For what?” Then his eyes widened. “You finished the novel.”

She laughed. “Names have been changed to protect the innocent.”

“Oh no.”

“Calm down, there Big Jack.” She rose on her toes, pressed her hands to his cold cheeks, and kissed him. “Jake and Hannah live happily ever after, by the way.”

He smiled, something wry, and still the heat of it went to her toes. Then he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her to himself. “Of course they do.”

He kissed her, sweetly, lingering.

“I’m standing right here, Jack Kingston.”

Oh. Her mother.

Jack lifted his head. “Dr. Malone.” Then he held out the tin. “I do come bearing gifts.”

“Are those your mother’s cinnamon rolls? And Jack, we talked about this. Phillipa, please.”

Harper grabbed it, and opened the tin. “Seriously. I love your mother.”

With the tin lid off, the warm scent of butter and cinnamon spice scented the room.

“Still hot from the oven.” He looked at Harper. “She said, and I quote, 'Harper deserves a proper breakfast if she's going to be dragged out on one of your crazy schemes today.'“

“Crazy scheme? Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” He grinned, his eyes shiny.

Oh, she loved this no-brooding, set free version of Jack, the one who had emerged as if from a dark shadow, into the light.

“Your mother is a wise woman. And you know I'd never say no to her cooking.” She carried the tin into the kitchen, Jack trailing behind her. “Is the Inn full this weekend?”

“Not as full as next weekend, for Valentine’s Day.” Jack shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the back of a chair. He wore a blue flannel button-down, snug around his shoulders, and she had to look away from the magic it did to his eyes.

She plated the rolls and her mother grabbed one, with a napkin.

“Best neighbor ever.” Her mother headed back upstairs.

“More painting?”

“It never ends.” Harper finished her coffee. Jack had leaned over to look at her laptop. “Never Too Late for Love?”

“Don’t laugh.”

He glanced at her. “I like it.”

I like it.

She couldn’t bear the swell in her chest. “Even if it has some delicious kissing scenes.”

“I feel like we need to proof read it, maybe act out a few scenes. You know, just for accuracy.”

“Now I know you’re up to something. Who is this Happy Jack?”

He grinned. “Get your coat.”

“Jack—”

His expression softened, his eyes finding hers, deep and earnest. “Do you trust me, Bee?”

Harper's heart stuttered in her chest. But…She set down her mug and walked over to him, winding her arms around his waist and leaning her forehead to his. “With my whole heart,” she murmured, lifting onto her toes to brush a soft kiss across his lips, tasting cinnamon and sugar and something that was distinctly Jack.

He hummed against her mouth, his hands coming up to cradle her face, callused thumbs stroking gently across her cheekbones as he deepened the kiss. Harper sighed and melted into him, losing herself in the slow, sweet taste of his lips on hers, the solid warmth of his body anchoring her.

A long, lovely moment later, Jack pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. “Hold that thought,” he murmured, his voice deliciously rough. Then he took her hand and got up, tugging her toward the door. “Bundle up, sweetheart. Adventure awaits.”

Of course it did.

Grabbing her coat, scarf, and boots from the front closet, Harper followed Jack down the porch steps to where his trusty old Geo was parked, rumbling and ready to go.

She got in.

He navigated out of her plowed driveway. “How’s Penny’s investigation going?”

“We’re working on a few leads. Tommy’s out of the hospital and back home, so Penny’s arranged for meals. But Kyle Brunley has ghosted her. Posted bail and vanished.”

“I don’t like it,” he looked at her. “He’s dangerous.” Jack hadn’t headed for town, but away, deeper into the countryside, winding down snow-dusted roads. “Maybe you should move back over to the Inn?—”

“You just want me closer, so you can drag me out for broomball whenever you want.”

He made a sound, deep inside. “That’s one way of putting it.”

Oh.

He glanced over. “But I’m still worried.”

“I’ll be fine, Jack.” She touched his arm. “And if I go missing, you’ll find me.”

“In my worst nightmares.” He put his hand over hers. “But yes, I’ll always find you.” He glanced at her. “You can put money on that.” He looked back at the road. “Speaking of?—”

“Technically, I helped. So, the deal is off.”

He made another sound deep in his chest, but smirked.

The cold, cloudy morning had given way to a late afternoon sunshine, amber light glinting off the pristine snowdrifts lining the road.

Jack slowed and turned down a long, tree-lined driveway Harper had never seen before. At the end of the drive sat a weathered red barn, a postcard snapshot with its snow-covered roof and old Ford truck in the drive.

As they pulled up next to it, a man in overalls and a dusty John Deere cap emerged from the barn. Early sixties, with a grizzled beard and kind, crinkly eyes, he regarded them warmly as Jack hopped out and went to shake his hand.

“Harper, I'd like you to meet Tom Hanson,” Jack said as she made her way around the car to join them. “Best sweet corn in the state, right Tom?”

“Aw, you're too kind, Jack. But I do alright.” Tom turned to Harper and stuck out a work-roughened hand. “Pleased to meet you, Harper. Jack here has told me an awful lot about you.”

“Oh no,” Harper said, and Jack winked.

What—?

“Tom is a collector of all things vintage, especially—well, just wait for it.” He looked at Tom.

“I’ll get the keys.”

Keys?

He ambled off toward the pickup truck.

“Jack?”

He reached for her hand and pulled her in the direction of the barn. “Just…trust me.”

“Now you’re scaring me.”

He pulled open one of the heavy wooden doors and gestured for her to go ahead of him. Harper stepped inside, blinking as her eyes adjusted from the bright snow glare to the dim interior.

When her vision cleared, she gasped.

There, parked in the middle of the barn sat a vintage—and she used that term in its best possible light—mint green city bus. Metal racing stripe down the side, flat windshield, bulbous fish-eye headlights, angled safari-style windows emanating a distinct 1970’s, bell-bottom, fringed leather vest, peace-not-war vibe.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Jack said, releasing her hand, then turning to walk backwards, arms out, facing her.

Her mouth opened. But what could she say to the joy on his face. “She’s definitely something.”

“Aw, c’mon Bee.” He took her hand, pulled her closer. “She’s a 1973 city bus, with the original seats and paint.”

“I can see that. With flaking paint and dented bumpers.”

“Okay, so there’s a mountain of work. But it’s all possibility, right below the surface.”

He was a kid with a new toy, and his enthusiasm simply spilled out, caught her up. Oh, she didn’t have a hope of turning down the boy next door.

“Okay, there is something undeniably charming about it.”

“Her. Something charming about Flo.”

“Flo?”

“Maybe, Dawn? Or Luna?”

“Only if there are power flowers on the outside.”

“We can negotiate.”

He stepped in front of her, caught her face in his hands. “This could be our next great adventure. I know she doesn't look like much now, but I've got big plans.” He let her go, then walked over to the bus, put an almost reverent hand on the bus's hood. “Tom is an old family friend and agreed to sell her to me for a song.”

“I’ll bet.”

“I’ve rented heated garage space in town, and…” He turned, and shoot, simply caught her up in his smile, his enthusiasm.

“She's the one, Bee.” He walked over. “Just like you were the one. Always.”

Aw shoot. “You’re so diabolical.”

“It’s the lawyer in me.” He pulled her into his arms. “I've got plans for us. Big, big plans that include crisscrossing the country in Flo, here, finding missing people, you writing stories and…just the future ahead of us.”

Us. Plans. The future.

And she saw it all in his eyes, too, the way he caught her into his gaze.

“I know you’re not ready for…for the next big thing…but maybe we work on this until you’re ready to say yes.”

Yes?

“I wouldn’t ask you to join me without…well, someday Harper Malone, I’m hoping you’ll be my wife.”

He’d always been bigger than life. And now, she was part of it, too. Tears pricked at the back of Harper's eyes. Oh. And yes. For sure, yes. But, not yet. Still, she nodded.

He grinned, stepping closer, his hands on her shoulders.

“What can I say? You take me to the most romantic places, Jack Kingston.”

He huffed a laugh and tipped her chin up, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gazed down at her. “Oh, sweetheart. I'm just getting started.”

And then he was kissing her, his mouth firm and sure on hers, one hand sliding into her hair and the other splaying across her lower back to tug her closer. Harper wound her arms around his neck and sank into his embrace.

Found. Loved.

And the rest of the world faded away until there was nothing but the two of them, the winter sunlight slanting in through the cracks in the barn walls and the dust motes dancing in the beams.

Jack finally lifted his head. “I can’t believe it took me this long, but I will never get enough of you.”

Harper tipped her head back. “I'm counting on it. Because I’m going to need plenty of research material for my next novel.”

She stepped in for another kiss when the sound of a pointed cough had her jerking away.

Tom stood in the open doorway, very deliberately studying the rafters as he jangled a set of keys in his hand.

“Found the keys,” he said, then looked at them and winked. “Or, I should I come back?”

Jack made another noise from his chest, but sighed and shook his head.

Tom unlocked the bus doors and began leading them through the gutted interior, rattling off engine specs. Jack had removed a floor panel, staring at some mechanical thing, but Harper let herself see the potential. A cute kitchen, a buffet eating area, and in the back, a bedroom.

Their home.

Maybe she’d even paint it purple.

Jack stood up, came over to her. “Ready for this?”

She slipped her hand into his. “Let the adventure begin.”

* * *