Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Moira couldn’t remember ever feeling so content.

She snuggled further into Welker’s chest as she sat on his lap in the big Adirondak chair on the Sothard’s enormous back deck. She was thoroughly enjoying the party that Margaret, Mrs. Sothard, and Bette Vestore had cooked up to celebrate her recovery. And when she said cooked, she meant cooked . The three women, with the help of Sabira, had outdone themselves in the food department, and although they hadn’t let a pouting Moira help, they told her she could participate, food-wise, in as many future get-togethers as she wanted.

And she wanted. She’d make the time, even if she had to juggle things around.

Moira had been back at work for a week now under Pickenstahl’s supervision. The man had been named temporary sheriff until an election could be held to determine a permanent one. But to tell the truth, he actually hadn’t been that much of a prick. He was pretty nearly behaving himself; judiciously weighing his censure of everyone “under” him, including her. Moira assumed that was partially due to what she had been through at the hands of Gladstone and the MC, but mostly—she figured—it was because he’d seen where the deposed sheriff’s arrogance had gotten him, and wanted to avoid those pitfalls until the title was officially his.

Either way, it was nice to go to work and be comfortable for a change, even if the reprieve was temporary.

Which was another thing…

Her comfort level at work.

Moira had, over the past ten years, doubted that she’d ever feel as close to her colleagues in the sheriff’s department as she did to her SWAT team, but those intrepid officers were now determined to prove her wrong. First, they’d thrown a welcome-back, donut breakfast for her upon her return, and had then vowed to include her in all their after-work plans from now on, whether she liked it or not. It was a huge change, and Moira knew it was mostly due to the amendments she’d made; stripping down the barbed-wire with which she’d previously surrounded herself. It was an eye-opener to realize that the isolation she’d suffered had all been on her.

Her new approaches, thanks to Welker? Smile more. Engage with people. Remain open to everything.

She looked around the vast yard, now, seeing those co-workers all here, mingling and laughing with her SWAT team. Yeah. She’d been dead wrong. They were all a really good bunch.

It was amazing, but there had to be nearly a hundred people present, if Moira’s counting skills were on point, and they were all here for her.

Even a few of the Sothard’s military sons were enjoying the festivities, having been able to get leave for the party. Mason and Kyle had clearly put pressure on their sibs to join the end-of-summer blowout.

The chief of police in Orono, Chief Ildavorg who’d recovered from his gallbladder surgery, along with his wife and son were also on premise enjoying the festivities, as well as a handful of people from Texas who’d helped SWAT so much over the past year.

Hayden and Boone would be sorely missed after becoming such dear friends, but they were set to depart right after the party wrapped up, along with their buddies from home, Crash and Adeline, Quint and Corrie.

The smoky grill, manned by Mr. Sothard in a tall chef’s hat and a jaunty pink apron, was loaded with burgers and dogs which he expertly flipped, and the long, trestle tables held more varieties of salads and desserts than Moira had ever seen.

Her workmates kids ran around laughing and screaming, while several of the team chased them with squirt guns and nerf balls.

A slip and slide had been set up, and Moira didn’t know who was enjoying it more, Sin’s two young girls in brightly colored bathing suits, or Kyle and Cisco in board shorts, who seemed to be competing for some imaginary backyard Olympics award as their wives watched their antics with unbridled mirth.

Fleet, Talia Spires-Egger’s husband, was providing the music for the day, having brought what looked to be a good portion of his recording studio equipment along, but the tunes were excellent, and nobody was complaining as the volume edged up. Things could get as loud as they wanted, due to the Sothard’s home being remote from any neighbors who might complain.

Not that anybody would, because they were all in attendance.

“Great party,” Moira hummed to Welker. “I never would have imagined this, a few months ago.”

Welker’s arms around her, tightened. “It’s great, isn’t it,” he answered contentedly. “And it’s all for you. We knew you’d come around, eventually,” he chided with a grin. “But just to let you know,” he tickled her midsection teasingly, “if you hadn’t smartened up on your own, I was determined to drag you, kicking and screaming, into my life.”

Moira smacked him gently on his tight stomach. “All you had to do was kiss me,” she told him. “I would have been a goner for sure.”

“Or you would have gutted me for taking liberties,” he snorted.

“Never,” she said with such conviction, he had to believe her.

Welker dropped a kiss to her lips and sighed happily.

“I’ll never get enough of this.”

He shifted underneath her.

Was he going somewhere?

“And speaking of enough,” he semi-pleaded, “have you digested your first hotdog yet? Because I’m ready for seconds.”

Moira laughed. “Uh, I think you mean fourths , but don’t let me stop you.”

Welker rose to his feet, and brought Moira with him, cradling her in his arms as he took a few steps toward the stairs leading down into the yard.

“You know you don’t have to carry me around anymore,” she scoffed, running one hand across his pecs.

“I know.” He stopped and kissed her again. “But I like it.”

“Mmm. Me, too,” Moira agreed.

Welker slowly let his hold go slack, easing her down his body, letting her feel all the hardness that she’d have a chance to explore, later.

Yup. There hadn’t been a single day since she’d been given the green light, health-wise, that they hadn’t burned up the sheets on Welker’s bed. And she didn’t foresee that fire being put out anytime soon. The minute they touched each other, flames ignited, and even when they’d worked through every bit of their kindling, some hot-ass glowing embers always remained banked, ready to start the next blaze.

They smirked at each other, knowing exactly what was in their respective heads, then walked down the steps, hand in hand, toward the grill.

Yeah. Moira grinned. She could use another burger to fortify her strength for later.

Cisco jogged toward them, waylaying them by insinuating himself directly into their path. “Hey Welk. Where do you think you’re going?”

“To get more food,” Welker told his friend.

“Oh, no you’re not,” he countered. “We just finished setting up the volleyball net Hilly brought from camp, and team SWAT needs you.”

“Well, then?—"

“Hey. Not me?” Moira asked snarkily, cutting Welk off.

“Are you kidding?” Cisco barked irreverently. “Not a chance. You are officially the enemy. You’re on team Sheriff.”

“What?” Moira played along, narrowing her eyes. “I’m also SWAT, you know,” she reminded him sassily.

Kyle sidled up behind Cisco and put in his two cents. “Right. But there aren’t enough SD peeps to match our SWAT numbers, so it’s team khaki for you.”

Moira tipped her head, taking a good look around the gathering group before focusing her grin on Cisco and Kyle. “I have a better idea. How about girls versus boys?”

Kyle blinked. “You…? Oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right, hon.” Kyle’s wife Rowan had heard the challenge, and when she walked up behind him, she pinched his ass. That got a yelp from him, and a laugh from everybody else as she continued. “Be afraid. Be very afraid. Because you guys are so going down.”

Moira snickered.

Rowan was a tough-as-nails stunt woman, and was known for her incredible, physical prowess. Put her together with Moira, who was no slouch, Talia, who was E’s squad leader, Joelle, a bad-ass, ex DEA agent now married to Mike, Hilly who played volleyball all the time with her camp kids, and all the other female SWAT team members and Sheriff’s department deputies who took-no-prisoners…

The guys would almost be outmatched as the women rotated in and out to challenge their muscled tushies.

Almost.

Moira warned herself not to get too cocky.

The guys had a lot of worthy warriors on their side as well. But whatever the outcome, the ensuing clash would certainly prove to be one hell of a battle.

Pixie, Doug’s tiny but mighty wife poked her head into the circle that had formed around Welk and Moira, gleeful and with her husband in tow. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be the cheerleader on this one. My height makes volleyball a challenge, even without having such gargantuan opponents.”

Doug had the audacity to reach down and ruffle her hair, so she turned and slugged him playfully in the gut.

“Seriously?” she gave him the stink eye.

“Okay. Okay,” Doug fake coughed. “I see how it is. I know who you’ll be rooting for, so back off, short-stuff. You’re the enemy until this is over.”

“Damned straight.” Pixie ruined the tough act by giggling.

Mason, with Everlee on his arm, joined the growing cluster to shake his head. “I think I’m going to sit this one out with Ever. She’s a little, uh, large, to be running around.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Everlee groaned, rubbing her burgeoning stomach. “But seriously? This huge volleyball is plenty for me today. And it better make an appearance soon, or it’ll inflate to the size of a dirigible.”

Several ladies in the know, groaned.

Ever was one week past her due date, and Moira had heard she’d finally been scheduled for a C-section the following Friday.

Everlee really, really, really wanted to do things without surgical intervention, but had eventually given in when Mason admitted he was scared. Every person present knew that for the boss to confess fear, he had to be really anxious. The man was a rock in almost all situations, but the thought of Everlee and his unborn child’s health being in question, had clearly been a game-changer.

“Okay.” Kyle rubbed his hands together, mischievously. “Anybody got important shit to do before we play?” When there was no pushback, he unexpectedly put his fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle while oddly looking straight at Welker.

Welker stiffened beside Moira, and suddenly the yard went quiet. Everybody who wasn’t in their immediate vicinity started moving toward them.

“What?” Moira was confused. “I didn’t think the game was going to be that b?—”

The words died in her throat as Welker dropped to one knee in front of her.

Seriously ?

Moira put her hands over her mouth.

He couldn’t… He wouldn’t…

She dragged her eyes from Welk and let her gaze travel through the crowd. Everyone was all smiles. Welker’s family had moved in close, and…

Wait ? Her father was here?

Clearly Welker had planned all this…

Welker tugged on the cuff of her shorts.

She blinked.

“Uh, Moira? I’m down here?”

The assemblage laughed, and Moira felt herself blush, but she nervously shrugged before lowering her regard to Welker; the man she loved, who obviously was about to do a public proposal. Damn .

She’d kill him later.

Welker cleared his throat and began.

“It seems like I’ve been waiting for a long time for this, Moira, because I loved you long before you even noticed I was alive. I’m not the most patient man in the world, but I knew you were worth waiting for, fighting for, and now that I’ve got your attention, I want that for the rest of our days.”

A single tear trailed down Moira’s cheek. She was beyond thankful for Welker, and that he hadn’t given up on her.

“Moira Bliss,” Welker continued, reaching out to grab her hands, “would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes, Welk. Yes,” Moira whispered back, but it seems that everybody must have heard her, because a huge cheer went up.

“Uh, Welker?” Mason, right behind Welk, nudged him with his knee.

“Yeah, boss?” Welker’s eyes didn’t leave Moira’s.

“Did you forget something?”

“Nope,” Welker said with certainty. “I have everything I want, right here.”

Mason cleared his throat, and bent down to Welker’s ear. “The ring, you idiot,” he said, just loud enough so the crowd roared.

“Fuck!” Welker swore before turning beet red and letting Moira’s hands fall to dig around in his pockets.

Moira took pity and dropped to her haunches in front of him.

“Ring?” she queried loudly. “Do we really need a ring?”

Welker looked confused, but that was okay. She had her man’s back.

“After that awesome proposal, who cares about a ring,” she exulted.

Moira leaned forward and kissed the ever-loving crap out of the man she loved. She’d never get?—

“Well, shit.”

The curse brought Moira’s head up. She looked around and her gaze met Everlee’s. She thought to reassure the boss’s wife that it definitely was okay.

“No. Really, Ever. It’s fine if Welk can’t find the… Oh hell!”

One look told Moira the whole story. “Now?”

“Yup,” Everlee nodded, the color leaching from her face. “My water just broke.”