Since coming home from the hospital, the weeks had been a mix of heaven and hell as they all rebuilt their lives. Emma's pain had been unfathomable on some days, but Wyatt never backed down. He stayed whether she was crying, screaming, wanting to give up, or so angry she couldn't see straight. Her friends were no different. Without a vehicle, they both relied on the three women and Mike a lot. Rides to Emma's doctors and physical therapy sessions, trips to town, prescription refills, and simply getting out of the house were all jobs they happily took on.

Mike and little Wyatt had been coming over in the evenings to catch up with the greatest friend in the world. The rambunctious little one ran around the yard with River, playing endless games made up on the spot while the men spent their time working on her garden. Though Emma was grateful, it irritated her to no end that she couldn't be out there doing the work herself. It had been almost three weeks since her accident, and even though she didn't need to pop pain pills like candy, she wasn't even close to getting back to normal.

"Wyatt. Breakfast," Emma called from the mudroom off the kitchen. He had started running with River each day before dawn, feeding him, and then going through new drills in the backyard. Her boys were beyond cute together, and she loved watching them from the patio.

"I'm not used to you having a normal sleep schedule," Wyatt grinned, coming in and dropping a kiss to her lips.

"Apparently, normal friends like to meet up before ten p.m. Boots off. I just swept the kitchen floor."

"I told you to leave the cleaning to me," he grumbled, kicking off his dirt-covered shoes.

"And I smiled," Emma snarked with another grin that held the same 'that's so cute, but no' connotation.

"What's all this?" Wyatt asked, learning to choose his arguments with this new strong-willed version of his goddess.

"Happy birthday my love," she beamed, lighting the last candle in the thick golden waffle.

"Six candles, huh? It's perfect," he said, blowing them out. "And so are you."

While Emma's body wasn't ready for any serious intimacy, kissing Wyatt had become the next best thing. Wrapping her in his arms and plunging into her hot, sweet mouth had him groaning with satisfaction. He thought it would be hard to hold back, that desire would get to them both, but not with his little bird. If kissing and fondling were all there ever was, it would be enough. Getting to be the touch that had her trembling, clenching, and screaming his name was as close to heaven as he imagined ever getting to be, and while she had begged for more, Wyatt was taking his time. Every touch was treasured.

Releasing her lips, Emma pulled out the candles and reached for the small bowl. "I wasn't sure what cake you liked best, but I know you love waffles with strawberries. Since it's your birthday, I thought I'd share my tradition in a way with lemon curd poured over the top and then some fresh whipped cream."

"Have I told you how much I missed your cooking?"

"Every day," she laughed.

When Wyatt sat down, he noticed breakfast wasn't the only thing on the table.

"Should I open this now or later?" he asked, picking up the white envelope.

"Now," she grinned, sitting next to him.

He had expected a birthday card, something loving or funny, but what he didn't expect was a gift certificate. It was for one week in the Callahan Crew cabin.

"What is this?" he asked. "Or where, rather?"

"You once said we would never be able to travel like normal people, so I thought a cabin on the banks of the Bogachiel River in the middle of nowhere would give us that opportunity. It's supposed to have excellent fishing, and there are numerous hiking trails, and best of all, um, no people. If you don't like it, you can pick somewhere else, or take Mike instead. It doesn't have to be me."

"It's perfect, little bird. Tucking you away for a week with nothing but nature sounds like my ideal wet dream."

"Didn't realize you loved fishing so much," she teased. "That's your first present. Your second is telling me what you want for your birthday dinner. Absolutely anything, and I will make it happen."

"Excellent. I choose you."

"I don't mind being dessert," she smirked.

"Don't fucking tease me. I can't handle it," he grumbled.

"It's been nearly three weeks. My ribs and lungs feel pretty good, and I think we can be careful with my leg."

"Baby, all you have to do is just lay there and let me feast."

"I can manage that," she giggled.

"Wooo," Emma screeched, falling into laughter when Wyatt lunged for her. One minute she was sitting down to breakfast and the next a giant man had her in his arms and was running for the stairs. "Now? What about waffles?"

"I need the main course. We'll have those after," Wyatt said, gently setting her on her feet. "I have wanted to taste you ever since that very first night when I had you touch yourself."

Wyatt pulled the drawstring on her flannel pants and gently worked them down her legs, followed by her burgundy lace thong. He was so gentle with her even in his urgency. Next, he raised the long-sleeved cotton shirt over her head, and before she could get on the bed, Wyatt sucked a nipple into his mouth with a groan. His hands felt warm and rough, sliding up her back as he held her steady, and the feel of him in this way made her head spin.

"You're my strawberries and cream," he said, sucking in her other breast.

"That was breakfast," she replied breathily.

"Exactly." His quip was punctuated by a sharp bite to her stiff nipple which sent heat straight between her thighs. Wyatt's resolve to not touch his little bird in any way that might hurt her was well and truly broken. Emma said she could handle it, so he planned on worshiping every inch of her with his tongue, his lips, his hands, and any other part of him she would allow. Mostly.

"I'm not going to have sex with you," he said between kisses spread over her chest.

"What? Why?" Emma whined breathily.

"Think of it like dating. For once, I don't want a homerun."

"How about a touchdown?" Emma said, fighting to keep her thoughts in order when his tongue was circling her tight peak. Todd had only squeezed her boobs like a stress ball and complained they were too small, but she had gone from an A to a modest B with the weight she gained, and Wyatt was making use of it. When Emma stood on the cusp of orgasm, following this conversation became way too difficult, so she just dropped her head back and pushed against him.

Wyatt grinned, his mouth full of her flesh, breathing and tasting her, perfectly content to stay right here for a while. But with the way her body was arching into him, how she swayed on her feet, and the moans that poured from her lips, he was curious. Fairly certain she would fall if he released her back, he relinquished the breast he had been massaging to skim his hand down her side, over that lovely hip which curved a little more these days, and right between her legs.

"You are so wet," he groaned into her chest.

"Yes, yes, oh Wyatt," she gasped.

"Holy shit," he grinned, returning his full attention to those stunning pink rosebuds in front of his face as he lightly brushed his fingers along her swollen clit. It was only a moment before he had her bucking into his hand and screaming his name.

To prevent too much strain on her leg, he gently lifted her mid-orgasm and laid her on the bed. He had no intention of stopping now. Carefully spreading her legs, he crawled between them and pulled his eternal white T-shirt over his head. The first time he stripped these clothes in front of her, Emma had sat in shock, way too amazed by the fact that they just disappeared to even see her man fully naked.

This morning, her eyes were glued to his chest. She had seen all of him plenty of times before now. Wyatt was a work of art—rugged mountain man meets football player meets permanent thirty-four-year-old body. He had dark, curly hair in all the right places, layered muscle from years of sports and hard work, and enough meat on his bones to prove it wasn't maintained in a gym.

The first time she saw what hung between his legs, Emma nearly hyperventilated. She had never had anyone to compare Todd with, and not wanting to ever bring up her ex's junk in front of him, she decided Wyatt was very well-endowed, and Todd was, well, the opposite. So the fact that he had been rock hard and huge in front of her for weeks and never so much as let her touch him spoke volumes.

Emma had begged to stroke him in the shower a few days ago when he had kissed her within an inch of her life after washing her head to toe, and all he said was not today before sliding a hand between her thighs.

"Wyatt, your pants," she rasped, reaching for the button, but he pulled away.

"If I take these off, it will be too hard to stop, and Emma, you are something I want to savor."

"But what about me?" she whined.

"This is all about you," he laughed, pushing her back on the bed. Wyatt straddled her good leg, not wanting to risk his body pushing or worse crushing the one that was healing and leaned over to take her lips.

"But I want to touch you," she huffed between his kisses.

"Then touch me," he said, sliding his tongue into her mouth. His bare skin had brushed against Emma's numerous times when he bathed her, changed her clothes, or lay beside her when she slept, but it was never like this. He hadn't let himself feel her in this way, shutting off his primal side so she could heal in peace. Now, his inner caveman was yelling and beating his chest to claim the woman and mark her with his seed. 'But not yet,' he told himself.

Emma ran her hands along all the bare skin she could find, up his muscular back, along his broad shoulders, and down his straining biceps where he held himself off of her. She wanted to feel his full weight, but even she wondered if that was the best idea. The man was a damn tree. On the upside, the gap between them left his front exposed to her wandering fingers, and she adored pushing through the light patch of chest hair. It was hard to explain, but he just felt like a man.

Jessie had laughed when Emma waxed poetic about Wyatt's body hair for nearly an hour while significantly tipsy last Thursday. But she stood by her assessment. Anyone who ever dated a swimmer would understand—or married one. Todd was smooth as a baby's bottom from his forehead to his toes.

Finally moving on from her decadent mouth, Wyatt made his way down the slender column of her neck, sucking on that racing pulse point, nipping at her clavicle, and zeroing in on every tiny flutter of her chest.

"How am I supposed to touch you if you keep scooting down?"

"My birthday. I'll enjoy my present how I want," he smirked, kissing across her breasts one final time before moving along her taut stomach. Christ, this woman was gorgeous and had no idea. Her innocence was something else he savored and was determined to protect so only he could soil it. "Fuck, little bird, you are a goddess. Let me worship you."

As he got closer to his personal mecca, her body tightened and he realized something was wrong. Immediately stopping, he lifted his head and looked her in the eye. Emma's face was uncertain, and he wasn't sure if she was in pain or just uncomfortable.

"Little bird, if you don't want to do this, we don't have to. Am I hurting you?"

"No, no. Not at all, and I want to do this, I think. But, um, well I haven't showered yet this morning," she admitted, flushing bright red and turning her head to face the wall.

Wyatt bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Was she worried about her hygiene? The girl bathed twice a day.

"Baby, that is not enough to stop me, so if you don't want this, tell me now."

"I-I do. I think. It won't be gross?"

Lightbulbs clicked on in his brain, and he now knew why his perfect, sweet Emma was having a mini meltdown. It was strange wanting to kill her ex and thank him at the same time. Seemed there was a first left for him to take, and that made unwrapping her the best gift in the whole damn world.

"You've never experienced this before, have you?" he asked to confirm his suspicions.

Emma wasn't sure if it was possible to blush any harder but a fresh surge of heat hit her cheeks regardless. She chewed her bottom lip and subtly shook her head, unable to say it with words.

Wyatt didn't need anything more to return to his position between her thighs. He slowly kissed up the inside of her injured leg, licking right near the top, before blowing lightly across her center, and kissing back down the other side. He wanted to get her comfortable with him being here because he planned to spend a good amount of time just like this from now on.

Dipping his fingers between her folds, he prepared her for his touch, teasing light circles around the edges, brushing his thumb over her clit. She may be nervous, but she was also dripping for him. Spreading her lips, he gazed ravenously before swiping his tongue straight up her opening to that sweet bundle of nerves.

Fucking hell, he knew she would taste good. There were no brakes now, no tentative touches, his entire mouth latched onto her core, sucking, licking, nipping, kissing. He devoured her.

"Oh holy hell, oh, oh my, Wyatt, oh, Wyatt. This, oh God, yes, yes, this," Emma gasped, one hand clutching the bars of the bed above her and the other fisting the sheets. She wanted to grab his head and grind herself into his face, but that was just in books, right? Could you suffocate a ghost? Even if he couldn't die, well, again... she would from pure mortification, so Emma kept her hands busy as her whole body rolled under his attention.

"You are my nirvana," Wyatt grinned, looking up with a beard covered in her.

"Oh lord," she groaned, flopping back and wishing she could hand him a towel.

"What?" he asked confused.

"I-I'm all over you," she murmured.

Wyatt laughed, wiping a hand down his face. "My own personal ambrosia. Little bird?" Wyatt waited until she finally met his eyes before he continued. "You're delicious."

The next pass of his tongue was softer, stoking those flames that had cooled with her embarrassment. Emma had never felt anything this good in her life, and once she finally got her brain to stop challenging it, her body took over. She rolled her hips, and Wyatt met the movement with delicious pressure. He lapped up her center before sliding his tongue right inside her, and she screamed, thrusting her fingers into his hair to pull him deeper.

Wyatt considered tongue fucking to be solidly in the third base category and dived in with vigor. Thrusting with his chin made his beard tickle that sweet spot below her opening, and it was obvious by her cries his technique was still solid. He loved the feeling of her hands in his hair, and she knew it, which is why her fingers massaging his scalp and gripping his head to keep it exactly where she wanted was nearly as hot as sucking her little pink clit between his teeth.

With so many sensations and feeling good in so many places, the orgasm seemed to sneak up on her. The way his hand played with her nipple, his mouth against her most sensitive area, and his teeth lightly scraping over the top of her hood was all Emma could take. Sparks shot through her core, a jolt of intense pleasure taking over as she lost all control, doing exactly what she told herself not to.

Emma gripped his head with both hands, grinding herself against his face, chasing that high which had taken over all rational thought. She rolled, convulsed, screamed, and twitched. Wyatt supported her hips and lifted her slightly to keep all the pressure off her injured leg as he ran his tongue up and down her center, sucking her in until her body went limp.

"Since your magic birthday number is six, let's see how close we can get," he grinned, slipping a finger inside her.

Two hours later, Wyatt was reheating breakfast downstairs and carrying it up to the boneless heap he left on the bed. A massive stack of carbs and sugar followed by an hour nap still couldn't pull Emma out of the starry haze that had taken over her mind. That was explosive, cataclysmic, climate-changing, earth shattering, pleasure reinvention. And Wyatt was riding the high of smug satisfaction. Even dead, he still had it.

She couldn't stay too far in the clouds. Everyone would be coming over for Wyatt's surprise birthday dinner, and she still had to cook a feast. Luckily, that was like second nature, so when he finally said he wanted her beef bourguignon, mashed potatoes, and French bread, she happily got to work. He couldn't have picked a simpler dish to make for seven people.

Wyatt was out mowing the acre of land around the house, per Emma's request because she wanted to have little Wyatt over this week to play. It was an excuse she knew he wouldn't question as she ran upstairs to get ready. Much of her former wardrobe stayed on hangers these days, but she happily pulled out the sleeveless red sheath dress she had bought a couple years ago for a party at the Murdock's.

The V-neck was moderate but sexy, and the hem hit just above her knees with a teasing slit up the right leg. It had been loose and hid her body back then, but now it was plastered to every line and curve. Emma never would have had the courage to wear something like this before, and she smiled, brushing her hands along her sides. She looked good, and she felt good. Drying her caramel brown hair, she kept it simple and let the charcoal smokey eyes and red lipstick do the work.

When Wyatt walked in the kitchen, he froze at the sight of the most stunning woman he had ever laid eyes on. Emma was always beautiful, but this... he didn't have adequate words.

"You, you're the most exquisite creature I've ever seen," he gasped, staring with his feet glued to the floor.

Emma blushed yet beamed under the compliment. "I wanted to look nice for you. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes if you want to clean up."

"I absolutely do as soon as I can stop looking at you."

Emma giggled. "Let me make it easier," she teased, walking down the hall and disappearing into the den.

Wyatt wasted no time, walking down to the laundry room to leave his grass and dirt covered clothes before blinking into the upstairs bathroom. He didn't technically need a shower, but he took one, liking how he smelled while the woodsy scent of the shower gel she bought him lingered. He found a freshly pressed, black dress shirt on the bed with a pair of blue jeans he knew were her favorites. This made him grin, and he happily put on the outfit.

"You little monster," he chuckled, feeling the shift. Someone was here, several some ones. He pulled on the black socks, ran a comb through his unruly hair, and headed downstairs.

"Wyatt!" a little voice yelled and as expected a small body slammed into him. This little guy had become one of his favorite people, and he instantly scooped him up and flew him around the room.

"At least this time I have an idea of what's holding my kid in the air," Mike smirked, watching them.

Katie came in next with an excited Zeus. She quickly wished Wyatt a happy birthday before escorting both dogs to the backyard.

"Happy birthday," Jessie shouted, coming in with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and red wine in the other.

"I second that," Cam smiled, carrying a huge black forest cake from Maggie's in her hands. Mike had said it was always Wyatt's favorite, so she offered to bring one.

"Is that what I think it is?" Wyatt asked, looking over at it as he set the little man down.

"Mike said it was your favorite," Emma smiled softly.

"I can't believe he remembered. Thanks, brother."

Emma translated, and Cam jumped him for not thanking the person who actually brought it. This was how it always went when their friends came over, hours of razzing, old stories, indulging a four-year-old, and lots of food. Tonight was no different other than the addition of celebrating the birth of a dead man. This alone had an entirely new set of jokes being passed around.

Wyatt was touched when everyone presented him with gifts. They all knew what Emma had bought for him, so they each gave him what was needed to accompany that, fishing poles from Jessie, an elaborate tackle box from Mike, a container of live worms from his giggling namesake, a pair of fixed-blade fishing knives from Katie, and an incredibly risqué black teddy and garter set from Cam.

"Not sure it's my size," the robotic voice quipped as Wyatt held it up to his chest.

"Luckily it's hers," Cam shot back, always quick in her retorts.

"I like the way you think," he typed.

"Good because I don't know anything about fishing," she stated flatly.

It was getting late, and there was one more surprise that was more for the kid in their group, but Emma knew Wyatt would approve.

"Okay, little man. Did you bring your sleeping bag and pajamas?" she asked.

"Yes!" he screamed. "Daddy bought me Thomas!"

"The train," Mike explained.

"Come on, Wyatt. I show you," he yelled, grabbing Wyatt's hand and dragging him to the door. Mike hollered and tossed his keys in the direction of the hollow dress shirt.

Wyatt shot Emma a curious look, and she grinned. "It's his first sleepover," she said quietly, and seeing her man's face soften released a swarm of butterflies in her chest.

"I'm sorry I can't stay all night," Cam said, watching them walk out the door, "but I won't leave until the little guy passes out."

"He could probably just spend the night with Wyatt and be happy," Mike shrugged with a grin.

"Well, I hope you all don't mind watching Cars. It was the best I could think of," Emma shrugged.

"It's all I ever get to watch, so no problem here," Mike laughed.

"I love cartoons," Jess said easily, shooting him an uncharacteristically shy smile.

"Me too," Katie agreed, absently petting a dog head on each side of her.

Cam grunted, but her side smirk said she didn't care either.

They all piled into the den, spreading out sleeping bags and making pallets, while Emma and Katie brought in extra slices of cake, bowls of popcorn, and refilled drinks. Little Wyatt was tucked between his dad and his new best friend and less than an hour later he was out.

"Thank you," Mike said, looking over at Wyatt's ridiculous onesie pajamas that his son had adored. "This meant so much to him."

'It meant so much to me.'

That night inspired a few favorite pastimes for both a four-year-old and a ghost. As Mike had predicted, both Wyatts were perfectly content to have cartoon sleepovers without all the extra girls around because suddenly, thanks to the adult Wyatt, they all had cooties, except Emma and Jess of course. They were spared the female plague due to having tickle fingers and endless amounts of food. River had taken to joining boys' night on the floor, snuggling into the pint-sized human, and Emma often left them all there to enjoy a spicy book in the comfort of her own bed.

Life normalized even more once Katie or Cam started picking up Emma for their own ladies' night at Dockside. It was a designated 'no boys allowed' Wednesday special, Jessie's slowest night of the week, so they were really providing a service to their bored friend by helping to keep her in business. Wyatt wasn't thrilled until Jessie informed him Taylor had been permanently banned for attacking Emma in the back hall. Wick had also installed cameras all around the place, fixed the light, put in a new security door, and made a deal with Jess to have his trainees work shifts as a night bouncer.

The girls randomly popped by and often stayed for a meal, but Sundays inadvertently became dinner at Emma and Wyatt's place, forcing Jessie to take another night off, but it was good for her. She spent way too much time behind that bar, and how was Emma supposed to set her up with Mike if Jess was always working? Not having to eat alone was always special to Emma, but it was Mike and little Wyatt's presence that made those meals her favorites. Having all five of their friends at dinner was always a loud and long night of teasing, friendship, and a whole lot of doting on a really cute kid.

Seeing a new life being created around them made Wyatt realize it wasn't just Emma's leg that was healing. They all were.