Unbreak My Heart (48 page)

He shrugged. “I’ll probably still call you that when we’re at home, screwing around and stuff, because it’s a habit. But I would expect you, as my wife, to share my last name.”

My heart felt like it might pound out of my chest. “If I said yes, could we have a small wedding with just my dad and Ree, my grandparents, Rory and Dalton, with Lu and Raj standing up for us?” I frowned. “But the McKay-kateers would be ticked if they didn’t get invited.”

“No more than that,” he warned. “I’d be thrilled if we didn’t have a spectacle with the rest of the McKay family.”

“Would you wear your dress uniform?”

Boone grinned. “Like that, do you?”

“You know I love it. You know when I see you in it I’m so…proud of the boy who left everything behind to make his life on his own terms.”

His eyes softened. “Will you
please
say yes to becoming my wife?”

“Sierra West sounds pretty awesome, actually. But maybe you should talk to my dad first.”

He leveled me with that I’ve-got-a-secret-smile. “I already did.”

“When?”

“When I signed that damn stalking contract. I told him I was gonna marry you.”

Cocky bastard. “What did he say?”

“He said, ‘Son, I knew when you left her you had no choice. I also knew you’d be back for her someday. Guess that day is here.’”

My dad. Such an insightful, sentimental, awesome dork.

I felt my smile fade.

Boone was right there. “What?”

“It’s going to be hard giving Dad my notice for DPM.”

“It’s going to be hard giving the
CEO
notice because he’ll have a helluva hard time replacing his top executive and he knows it. Your
dad
will be so damn proud of his daughter for the impressive opportunity she’s earned.” He kissed me. “Keeping that distinction will make it easier for you.”

“You’re probably right.” I grinned at him. “This is a much better outcome than the last time we were in this clearing.”

“Agreed.” Boone’s eyes took on a wicked gleam. “But I would like to revisit that idea about fucking you in the wildflowers under a moonlit sky sometime.”

I whapped him on the chest. “I believe I stated that much more romantically.”

“You were a virgin. Now you know that down and dirty can be just as romantic as slow and sweet. I’ll give you a detailed reminder of both ways later.”

I shivered.

Boone rubbed his hands up and down the outsides of my arms. “It’s getting dark. We should go.”

“I’ll meet you at my dad’s house.”

“Hold on.” He crushed me to his chest and brushed his mouth across my ear. “I love you, Sierra McKay. I couldn’t have said that to you seven years ago because I didn’t know what it meant. Now I do. All because of you. So will you please agree to marry me before I lose my fucking mind?”

“Yes.”

He smiled against my cheek. “A McKay marrying a West. That’ll be an interesting twist for us to detail in the family archives.”

One year later…

“L
adies and gentleman,
we’ve begun our descent into Phoenix. Winds are calm so we should have you on the ground in twenty minutes.”

I half-listened as the flight attendant blathered on with the same spiel I’d heard a million times in the past year. Okay, not quite a million, but some travel days it felt as if I lived on a damn airplane. I’d racked up so many frequent flyer miles that I usually got upgraded to first class. My favorite part of that perk wasn’t the free booze but being one of the first passengers to deplane. It seemed especially urgent today. I’d already visualized how fast I could get my roller bag out of the overhead compartment—I never checked a bag anymore—so I could hustle off the jet bridge and through the terminal until I reached the main level where he’d be waiting to welcome me home.

Home.

Finally.

For good.

While the people I’d met, the places I’d been and the sheer array of knowledge I’d amassed had changed my life, my worldview and my goals, the travel schedule the last year defined brutal. I’d kept track of the number of nights I’d spent in my own bed. Sixty. Out of three hundred and sixty-five.

Three hundred and five nights apart from him.

No, that wasn’t right. We’d spent a week together in Hawaii on our honeymoon. We’d spent another week together in Fort Hood.

Still…two hundred and ninety-one days apart was a lot of lonely nights.

We missed each other with a ferocity that could be gut-wrenching. But we’d survived it. We’d thrived because we never took a single moment of the time we did get to spend together for granted.

This last stretch had been the longest. I hadn’t seen him in person for six weeks. Skype and FaceTime made it somewhat better; I could at least see his handsome face and hear that sexy voice. And the smartass always did an onscreen sweep of our house with his phone or his laptop to prove that he hadn’t returned to his slovenly ways.

I was too damn restless to sit, so I made one final trip to the bathroom and combed my hair. I touched up my makeup and removed the remnants of my lipstick—that’d be history the second we were within kissing distance anyway. The plane dipped and I placed my hand on my stomach. The last thing I needed was a bout of nausea to ruin my first night back home so I returned to my seat.

The woman sitting next to me smiled. The other thing I liked about flying first class? The other passengers weren’t chatty, so it surprised me when she struck up a conversation.

“I will be so very glad to feel the desert heat again after a week in New York in January.”

“I’ve been in Scandinavia for three weeks. I won’t miss wearing a parka, that’s for sure.”

That prompted a bunch of questions about the nature of my trip, so the last twenty minutes of the flight went by quickly. But as soon as we touched down, I wanted off the plane. I didn’t text him to tell him we’d landed. I didn’t call him. I knew he’d be waiting outside the arrivals gate like he always was.

I’d never deplaned so fast.

But I forced myself not to run. With my luck I’d trip in my heels, which were his favorite. I couldn’t wait to see that molten look in his eyes when he noticed them. I couldn’t wait to see what inventive position he’d put me in while I was wearing them. The man had a wicked streak as wide as the Grand Canyon.

There were more people in the terminal than usual and I got swept up in the mass exodus. I weaved through the throng but didn’t get clear of them until I was well past the area where we usually met. My grip tightened on the handle of my roller bag as I scanned the waiting area.

Then I saw him.

My soulmate, my lover, my husband, my partner, my everything.

My heart started beating again. It seemed listless and mopey when we were apart.

Boone had worn his uniform. His everyday uniform, the faded-looking gray camo one that thousands of other men and women in the armed forces put on every day.

But he wore it better.

I saw anxiety in his eyes as he scrutinized the arriving passengers. Normally he saw me first, so I didn’t get to see this—his anticipation, his complete oblivion of the admiring glances women sent him since he looked so fucking
fine
in his uniform, nor did he pay attention to the men who stood a little straighter as they walked past him because he epitomized a military man to the core.

And he was mine.

God. I was so proud that he was mine.

Our gazes connected.

The relief I saw in his eyes brought tears to mine. Sometimes I’d wake up to find him watching me as I slept as if he still feared he’d wake up and find the last year a dream.

Silly man. I’d give him seventy years to get over that.

And I didn’t have to run to him because he was running toward me.

He picked me up, crushed me to his chest and held onto me, burying his face in my neck.

Then our mouths collided.

I melted even as I marveled at how exquisitely, how perfectly he expressed his tenderness, his love and his hunger for me with just a kiss.

Boone set me down. He cradled my face in his hands. The metal from his wedding ring pressed against my jaw. He wore that band with as much pride as he did his uniform. “Welcome back, Mrs. West. I missed you.”

I smiled at him. “You love saying that.”

“No. I love you. Missing my wife sucks.”

“I love you too, darling hubby.”

“You’re really done? This was your last orientation trip?”

“Yes.”

“Thank fuck.”

I laughed. “You sure you’re ready for me to be underfoot all the time? Messing up your routine? Baking when the mood strikes me? Yelling at you to turn down the TV? Hogging the blankets? Doing normal boring, married couple stuff?”

Those soulful brown eyes were filled with a contentment I’d never seen. “I’ve wished for that kind of life with you since the moment I saw you on the bus, McKay.”

I brought my lips to his and whispered, “Wish granted, West. Let’s go home.”

To my kick-ass team—Lindsey, Kim and Meredith
: This wouldn’t have been possible without any of you. Thank you, not only for the hard work you do for me and Team LJ, but for rolling with the craziness that is me on a daily basis. Thanks for all the times you talked me off the ledge, for all the texts that made me laugh and cry, for all the times you encouraged me to get my ass back to work, and for those other times when you told me to take a damn break and stop working all the freakin’ time. Thanks for being a security blanket and a cattle prod—and knowing when I needed one of those things over the other. Each one of you is a remarkable woman, a strong and positive influence, and a creative force to be reckoned with. I’m grateful EVERY DAY to have you in my life as friends and colleagues. (Now go post something in Wunderlist because I know much you love assigning me tasks and making me do stuff on
your
schedules. Yes, she can be taught!)

Thanks to the awesome authors I admire so much that agreed to read an arc!

Sawyer Bennett
, who I met in Hawaii this year and is so generous with her time and talents, not to mention so savvy and productive that I want to BE her~

Abbi Glines
, who shocked the hell out of me at RT in New Orleans and gave me one of the best compliments I’ve ever received as an author~

Elle Kennedy
, who knows how much I adore her work, and responded with a “F*CK YEAH GIMME BOONE AND SIERRA!” (yes, in all caps) followed by, “Rielle isn’t in this book is she? I’m still pissed off at her about Bennett.”

Sarina Bowen
, who lets me pick her brain anytime I ask, despite her crazy busy schedule and doesn’t seem to mind when I go all fan girl on her~

And to my readers…FUCKING FINALLY, huh? The book is done and in your hot little hands after 4 ½ years of waiting for Boone and Sierra to grow up enough to earn their happily ever after! Thanks for sticking with me through the end of one series and for waiting somewhat patiently for the beginning of this series, and for the support of all my other series.

I say this with the utmost love and respect, but now you can QUIT NAGGING ME to write Boone and Sierra’s love story…you’ll see that it was definitely worth the wait