Tasty Mango by JJ Knight

Epilogue: Havannah

Iclutch the handle of my car door as Donovan turns off the highway into nowhere.

“Where are we going again?” I ask, hanging on for dear life as we bounce over the rough terrain of an empty expanse of scrub brush and pine trees.

He mashes a button on the dash, setting the odometer trip counter to zero. As we lurch over rocks, clumps of low brush, and craggy outcroppings, I begin to wonder if he’s lost his mind.

Donovan concentrates on maneuvering the Jeep. I understand why he rented it instead of his usual cars on his Colorado visits. “Almost there,” he says.

I spot something flapping in the breeze up ahead. It’s a squarish something. It’s hard to see with the bouncing of the car.

As we get closer, I realize the strange object is an oversized canvas tent set with poles. It’s easily as big as the living room of the apartment I share with Magnolia. And sitting outside of it are two comfy-looking swivel chairs, a small table, and a rug.

A rug. In the middle of nowhere.

Donovan drives up to the tent and stops.

“I take it this is where we’re spending the night?”

He grins. “Don’t worry. I know how you feel about roughing it. This will be nothing like camping on a trail.”

I open the door and jump down, now understanding his gift of my new hiking boots. I hope this expedition is not going to require any exercise. So not into that.

But the shoes are handy as we navigate the low brush to the cleared-off spot where the tent awaits.

I open the flap and peer inside. “Whoa.”

It’s like something out of a movie with an Egyptian prince. Tapestries line the walls, and silks cascade along the ceiling to soften the edges.

There’s a wide bed in the center, a table on either side set with lamps. A small table with two chairs and two place settings fills a side wall, along with a small fridge next to a large box that looks like it contains a battery.

“Nice,” I say. Cool air brushes against my cheek, and I turn to spy a freestanding air conditioner next to an ornate pedestal sink with a faucet. I turn the knob, and after a couple of seconds of chugging, clean water pours out of the spigot.

“Tell me where I’m going to pee, and I’ll decide if I can camp like this,” I say.

“There’s a small privy behind the tent,” he says. “You can check it out.”

I wave my hands. “I believe you.”

“Glamping services have gone upscale,” Donovan says. “Do you like it?”

I walk up to him and wrap my arms around his waist. “I do. I like trying new things with you.”

“Good.” He leans down for a quick kiss. “There are some things I’d like to show—”

I shut him up with another kiss. “Less talking, more naked.”

He hesitates, but then a slow grin comes across his face. We’ve been apart for three weeks, longer than usual. And today is the first anniversary of our first date. Tomorrow, of course, is Rebel’s first birthday, and a huge party is planned.

Donovan will finally meet Brian—not that we’ve avoided it all this time, but it’s never worked out. I don’t see Brian all that much, spending most of my time with Millie and Jared.

Tomorrow will be very tied up.

Today is ours.

I pull his shirt from where it’s tucked into his jeans. “Did you scout some friendly rocks?” I ask. “Because I’m willing to risk a sunburn in tender places for the full outdoor experience.”

“You’re always a step ahead of me,” he says. “There’s a river.”

I hesitate. “Water? Outdoors? Like in movies?”

He grins. “Exactly.”

I grab his hand. “How far? Do we drive there? Do we have to walk?”

“It’s not far.”

And he’s right. He has the foresight to grab a couple of towels from a hamper near the chairs before we race across the field. There are no trails here, but we can navigate the bare patches in the brush easily enough. The lush green tree line tells us where the stream is, and soon we pick our way down a shallow hill to the gurgling crystal waters.

“How deep is it?” I ask.

“You can see the bottom.”

I cock my head. “Do I hear a waterfall?”

“You do. It runs year-round as long as there isn’t a prolonged drought.”

I let out a squeal and move upstream. It’s not far to get there, but I am hot and sweaty by the time we arrive. The waterfall is about fifteen feet tall, nestled in an outcropping of rock. The acreage looks to be at the foothills of Green Mountain, leading to the Rockies.

“It’s breathtaking,” I say. “It looks deep.”

Donovan finds a flat bit of rock to set the towels on. “We going in?”

“Hell yeah, we’re going in. Sex under a waterfall. That’s a bucket list item.”

He laughs. “Me too. Let’s get ’er done.”

We shuck our clothes and tiptoe across the rocks into the stream. It’s only up to our knees until we start to approach the actual waterfall, where it quickly deepens.

“I think we can go around and behind it on that ledge,” he says.

I take his hand, and we carefully approach the falls.

He’s right, and we walk around it, all sound drowned out but the roar of the water over our heads. The ledge is a few feet wide, enough to walk along.

“Shall we see how deep it is?” I ask.

“Let’s do it.”

We lower ourselves down and find we can’t touch the bottom. I dive below the surface, realizing at the last second I should’ve tied my hair back. It billows out behind me like a cloud.

We break through the surface of the water at the same time. “It’s cold!” I shout. But I feel exhilarated, as if every cell in my body is electrically alive.

We find a lower section of rock farther down, water spilling across it before feeding into the pool beneath the falls. Donovan lifts me to sit on it and pulls himself up as well.

An occasional break in the falls allows sunlight to sparkle down and then is closed again. The roar is tremendous. The rock we sit on is cool, the flowing water a constant trickle over its surface.

“It’s magical,” I say.

“It’s yours,” he says.

I turn my head to him. “What do you mean?

“It’s part of an eighty-acre parcel I purchased three weeks ago.”

I clutch his arm. “Really?”

“You’ve been looking at properties. We saw a ton of them.”

“Nothing like this.”

“When I found it, I had to act fast. There were six other bidders. The owner died and the family wanted to dump the acres.”

“Donovan. Is this where…” I can’t find the words to say it.

“It’s your vision, baby. If you want your fairytale castle here, you have plenty of space and this beautiful waterfall to attract people to come.”

I look up into the water flowing off the rock. “God. Donovan.”

“You like it?”

“I love it. But the money. The funding.”

He runs his hand down my arm. “We can worry about all that later.”

“Okay. Right now, we need to break in this waterfall properly.”

He leans down to kiss me, water flowing around our legs as if we are the force of nature that must be worked around. His hands are everywhere, following the curves he knows so well.

His skin is cool and wet from the water, and I follow the trails along the muscles of his chest, the indentions of his abs, and down to the part of him that is primed and absolutely ready for me.

We could be the only two people in the world, castaways in this wild, untamed land, finding a moment of respite, coolness, and ease in the water.

We lean back into the cool trickle of water along this hidden bit of rock, and I kiss down his body, following where my hands have led me, and take him in my mouth.

He lets out a sigh that disappears into the roar of the water, gathering my hair in his hands to get it out of my way.

He knows I like that. I still like to run the movie in my mind of what we’re doing, that exhibitionist streak alive and well. He always meets me where I’m at.

And this. This is next-level.

I work him with my hand and mouth until I feel the veins bulging, and the twitch that tells me I can finish here or move on.

I look up at him, his eyes closed, one hand thrown over his face.

The world is gray and green and wet and cool, the occasional dance of light creating dots on the walls of our hidden spot.

Donovan is part of it, all muscular man.

And he’s mine. Neither of us has had a relationship last as long as this.

I crawl up his body, nipping bits of his flesh along the way up to his jaw.

“My biter,” he says, drawing my face to his.

We kiss, his hands on my body, which has more or less recovered from pregnancy and childbirth, still a little softer in places, the pale streaks of stretch marks permanently etched here and there on my skin.

But my boobs are almost normal, Rebel only nursing occasionally, preferring his finger foods at this point. I feel alive, and in control of myself, ready for the next thing.

I ease back down his body until I straddle his hips. Then I lower myself on him, feeling my flesh give way, until he is buried inside me.

My knee shifts on a slippery bit of the rock, and he moves his hand to hold me steady.

“You got this?” he asks.

“Totally got this.” I move up and down, easing him in and out. He clutches me, controlling our bodies and rhythm. I feel no hurry, despite the urgency I had before. Just like in that first fairytale, so long ago, in France, I don’t want the fantasy to end.

I let the sounds penetrate, rushing water and cool air. My hair sticks to my back. I feel at one with everything around me, as if this is the most natural thing of all.

Despite these gentle, patient thoughts, the tension builds where we’re joined. I tune back into it, listening to my body, feeling his inside me. We’re in sync, taking our time, but letting the act find its way.

I suck in a breath. The tightness has begun to wind deep inside me. Donovan must recognize the change in my breath and moves his hand between us to find the nub that responds so well to him.

Then the cadence increases. I brace my hands on his chest and move with speed and power, crashing into him like the water on the surface below. My body tightens until I’m sure I will scream, I will never get there, I will simply collapse in on myself until I die.

But then it all releases, flashing out like a ripple on a lake when the surface tension is broken.

I collapse on Donovan’s chest, our muscles pulsing, both of us gasping for air.

The warmth of him spreads in me, and his hand holds the back of my neck to press me tight. I lie flush on top of him, breathing hard, our hearts hammering against each other.

Nature takes no notice. The water continues its crash from high to low. The sun peeps through at the whim of the flow.

“I love you,” Donovan says.

I rest my head on his chest. “I love you too.”

“I’m glad you love this place.”

“How could I not? The hardest part will be having to share it with others.”

He laughs. “There might be a line to get back here.”

“Maybe we can keep it a secret.”

He laughs. “In the age of the Internet?”

“True.”

I shift to the side, and we sit up.

“Want to take a swim?” he asks.

“Totally.”

We slide off the ledge into the deep water. We push off the rock to pass through the waterfall, the power of it battering our backs as we cut through.

We surface on the other side, crystal droplets of water dancing on the surface.

“This is wild!” I call. “It’s so perfect!”

We swim out for a bit and soon find our footing in the river.

“We need to monitor it during heavy rainfall and when it’s dry,” Donovan says.

I nod. “We can take our time. Visit in every weather extreme. Understand the land.”

“And you can choose to never develop it. We can just own it.”

I can’t imagine doing that. It’s too perfect.

We move slowly back toward our clothes. “We? I believe this is another great investment for you. I’m glad to be a part of it.”

He shakes his head. “This property is in your name. Only yours.”

I glance back at the waterfall. It’s majestic.

Should I accept this? I remember the jewels my sister chided me for taking on that first trip to Paris. “Donovan, I’m not sure.”

He searches through his clothes and extracts something from a pocket. It’s too small for me to see at first, then he gets down on one knee, naked, cushioned by a clump of grass.

He holds up it. A diamond winks in the sunlight. “I’m hoping it will be our adventure,” he says.

I look at the ring in his hands. It’s a princess cut, and on each side is a deep purple stone, the birthstone for June. Both for Rebel’s birthday and our first date. It’s breathtaking.

“So what do you think?” he says. “Will you marry me? Can we make this merger official?”

I nod. I’m not sure if the wetness on my face is coming from my hair or my eyes, but I find it hard to speak.

He lifts my hand and slides the ring on my finger. I step closer.

He draws me to him, still on one knee, his beard tickling my belly.

“We’re going to build a castle,” I say. “People will get married here. Get engaged here. We will be the first.”

He looks up at me. “I have to wait for the castle to be built to marry you?”

I laugh. “Well, maybe not completely built. Perhaps a nice gazebo.”

“Good. Because a castle is going to take years, you know. We don’t even have an architect. Or a plan.”

It’s true. “We won’t wait that long.” I run my fingers through his wet hair and lean down to plant a kiss on top of his head. “I’m so happy,” I whisper.

His fingers tighten on my waist. “Me too.”

I can barely breathe. For so long, I thought I would never be more than the circumstances of my mistakes.

But now I know that everything in life is what you put into it. And forgiving yourself is the first step. The next one is opening your heart to accept all the goodness that comes your way. To believe you deserve it.

My fairytale didn’t end when I went a little crazy, or when I got pregnant.

And it didn’t stop last year when I abruptly had to leave Milan.

This bold, brilliant life of mine has only just begun.

* * *

Thank you for reading Tasty Mango!

There will be more books in the Pickleverse! Cousin Sunny — I’ve got my eye on you! Sign up here to be notified whenever there is a new book!

This book is the bridge between two of my most popular rom com families! Learn about Donovan’s brother Dell and how he ended up with baby Grace in Single Dad on Top and Single Dad Plus One.

And catch up on the Pickle family with Jason in Big Pickle, Max (whose wedding you just attended) in Hot Pickle, and Anthony (engaged to Havannah’s sister Magnolia) in Spicy Pickle.