“Okay, I’m all ears. Shoot.”

“So, um…” He shifts his weight from side to side, his big brown eyes on mine, and I feel my heart tug, just a bit. This perfect little boy is mine. I made this. Amazing. “Miss Kate has a friend at work who has a dog—”

Uh oh.

“And the dog had puppies—”

Of course it did. Tramp dog.

“And Miss Kate said that if it’s okay with you, she’ll buy me one for my birthday next month. It’ll be an early present!”

His eyes are so full of excitement and hope.

“Buddy, you know that sometimes we have guests who stay here who are allergic to animals.”

And I just killed the light in my own kid’s eyes.

Mother of the freaking year, right here.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What kind of dog is it?” I ask wearily and hear Beau chuckle beside me, which earns him an elbow to the ribs.

“They’re hounds,” Rhys replies with a grin. “Short hair, mild-mannered, not chewers.”

I narrow my eyes at him, as if to say, “Whose side are you on?”

“Yeah, they’re not chewers,” Sam repeats triumphantly. “Like, not at all. And I’ll clean up after it. And it can sleep with me, and we won’t let it in the guest rooms so they won’t be allergic, and I promise it’ll be the best thing in the whole world!”

“Hmm. The whole world, huh?”

He nods and holds his breath, then takes my face in his sweet, sweaty little hands and leans his forehead to mine. “Please, Mama?”

“Will you teach it to play fetch?”

He nods.

“Will you teach it to go potty outside?”

More enthusiastic nods.

“Will you give me lots of hugs and kisses?”

He smiles, the hope in his giving way to elation and jumps into my arms, wraps his little arms around my neck and holds on tight before kissing my cheek.

Twice.

Without acting like he’s going to catch cooties from it.

“A puppy is a lot of responsibility,” I say sternly. “And a lot of work.”

“I’m a hard worker, just like you,” he says, knowing full-well he’s buttering me up.

Beau smirks beside me, and I elbow his ribs again.

Just because it’s fun.

“Okay, I’ll call Miss Kate and tell her that you can have the puppy.”

“Yes!” He jumps in the air and does his version of the happy dance, fist bumps Beau and Rhys and hugs me again. “You’re the best mom in the history of moms.”

“That’s what you say to all the moms,” I reply, but bury my nose in his hair and breathe him in, just for a minute.

My baby is getting big.

“Nope, just you.”

“Okay, let’s get ready for our guests this evening. I need to make dinner, too. Beau, are you joining us?”

“What are you making?” he asks.

“Pork chops, asparagus and red beans and rice.”

“Mama’s red beans and rice?”

“She’s the one who taught me to make them,” I reply and shake my head.

“I’m there,” Beau says.

“Me too,” Sam says, as if he has a choice. I raise a brow at Rhys. His face is sober, but his green eyes are still full of humor.

“And you, Mr. O’Shaughnessy?”

“I’m in.”

“Well then, I’d better get started.”

***

“Darling, this inn is just amazing.” I smile at the sweet Mrs. Baker and fill her wine glass with more wine. “Ethel described it perfectly to me. I’m so happy that she convinced Carl and me to come here.”

“It’s a pleasure to have you, ma’am,” I reply. This is my favorite time of day. The guests have returned to the inn from their adventures during the day. Some retire to their rooms to relax. Some sit outside and soak up the bayou. And some sit in the drawing room, sip wine, and chat.

Rhys, much to my surprise, decided to come down and chat with the guests. Despite being a guest himself, I couldn’t talk him into leaving the dishes for me to do after dinner. He jumped in and helped as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

And now he’s chatting baseball with Carl Baker. Sam is sitting at their feet, his eyes bouncing between them as they talk about innings and sliders and things that I really don’t understand.

Because in my world, baseball is boring. But I will go to every game that Sam ever plays and I will love it.

Because I love him.

“Sam.” I lean down and speak softly into his ear. “It’s time for bed, buddy.”

“But we’re talking about baseball. Man to man.”

“Yes, I see, and I’m sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for one of these men to go to sleep. And you’re the only one with a bedtime.”

“Carl has a bedtime too,” Mrs. Baker says with a giggle and sips more wine.

“Mom, this is important stuff.”

“So is bed. I mean it. I won’t say it again.”

He sighs heavily and stands. “Don’t say anymore important stuff without me.”

“Deal.” Rhys ruffles his hair. “Sleep well, kiddo.”

“Good night.”

Sam shuffles to the door that leads to our private quarters, then turns back.

“Mom! I forgot to tell you!”

“Tell me what?” I cross my arms and settle in for the battle of getting my kid to bed. He’s fought bedtime since infancy.