Rachel Gibson - It Must Be Love

She smiled as she dipped her brush into a blob of bright yellow. "I have a lot of portraits of your Mr. Happy," she said and pointed toward the stack of canvases against the wall. "I want to paint Sam today."

Damn, he'd been usurped by a bird.

He leaned one shoulder against the wall and watched Gabrielle work. They'd been married for three months, and sometimes he'd catch himself just watching her. His mother had been right about that, he could look at her for the rest of his life, whether she was painting, or making her oils, or sleeping. He especially liked to watch her eyes when he made love to her.

In a week they'd celebrate the day she'd juiced him with a can of hair spray. He really wasn't into celebrating made-up anniversaries, and that was one memory that brought a bigger smile to Gabrielle's lips than his, but he'd celebrate to make her happy.

His gaze lowered to her stomach, and he imagined, if he looked hard enough, that he could see the slight rounding of her belly where his baby grew. They figured she'd conceived the night they'd moved into their new home two months ago. Now that had been a celebration.

Sam let out a squawk, then flew from the perch to Joe's shoulder. He puffed out his chest and rocked from one foot to the other.

" You've got to ask yourself one question. Do you feel lucky? Well, do ya - punk ?"

Joe gazed at his wife, in her white shirt splattered with paint. Everything he'd ever wanted or would ever need was in this room. He had a beautiful wife he loved so much that it brought an ache to his chest, a baby growing safe and secure in her womb, and a very naughty bird. What more could a guy ask for?

"Yes I do," he said. "I'm one lucky punk."