Sunshine And The Grumpy Groundskeeper Bonus
This is a bonus Epilogue for readers of Sunshine and the Grumpy Groundskeeper. It is best read after you’ve finished the entire novel.
Rowan
The first snow of winter dusts the mountain peaks, a thin white blanket that transforms the familiar landscape into something new yet eternal. Dawn breaks over the eastern ridge, painting the snow-kissed trees in shades of gold and rose as I make my final check of the wildlife blind.
Six months since Daisy Harper crashed into my carefully ordered life. Six months of chaos and laughter and a kind of happiness I never thought possible. Six months of learning that some trails are worth following, even when you can’t see where they lead.
Today, I’m hoping to blaze a new one. Together.
“Perfect,” I mutter to myself, adjusting the last carved figure on the small shelf. Gordon the Groundhog Mayor stands proudly among his forest constituents—rabbits, foxes, deer, and bears—each one painstakingly carved from the lodge’s fallen oak tree. Each one a memory of a story Daisy has spun on our hikes.
I run my thumb over the small velvet box in my pocket, an unfamiliar nervousness tightening my chest. I’ve faced mountain lions, navigated blizzards, survived falling through ice. Yet nothing compares to the terrifying exhilaration of what I’m about to do.
The wildlife blind looks different now. It’s no longer just a shelter for observation, but a tiny studio. Over the months, I’ve gradually expanded it, adding shelves for her growing collection of sketchbooks, a small woodstove for winter mornings, windows that capture the perfect light. A space that belongs to both of us, but carries her magic.
Today’s addition is the final piece. A promise.
My watch shows 7:00 a.m.. She’ll be awake by now, likely already filling the cabin with her particular brand of morning energy—talking to Rascal about their plans for the day, humming while she makes coffee, scribbling story ideas that came to her in dreams.
The thought brings an involuntary smile to my face. The kind that still surprises my family when they catch it.
The crunch of boots on snow alerts me to her approach. I step outside, watching as she navigates the path I’ve cleared, her bright purple hat a splash of color against the winter landscape. Rascal bounds ahead, his purple sweater now supplemented by a matching winter coat that Evie knitted him.
“Morning, forest guardian,” Daisy calls, her breath fogging in the cold air. “Secret project finally finished?”
For the past week, I’ve been disappearing to the blind for hours, claiming “maintenance” that couldn’t wait. She knows me too well to believe it, but has played along, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.
“Maybe.” I meet her halfway down the trail, drawn to her warmth like always. “Depends on your definition of finished.”
She rises on tiptoes to kiss me, her nose cold against my cheek. “Mysterious as ever.”
“Some things never change.” I take her hand, calloused fingers entwining with her artist’s ones, marked with ink and graphite. “Think of it as a research expedition.”
“Oh? What are we researching today? Winter migration patterns? Snow density? The hibernation habits of grumpy groundskeepers?”
There it is. That teasing lilt that never fails to warm me from the inside out. “Something like that.”
Rascal darts ahead, his short legs somehow navigating the snow with surprising agility. He’s grown accustomed to our routine. These morning walks to the blind, the quiet hours while Daisy sketches and I maintain the nearby trails, the shared thermos of coffee as the forest wakes around us.
“You cleared the entire path,” she observes as we walk. “Must be important research.”
I shrug, aiming for nonchalance despite the weight of the box in my pocket. “Winter maintenance.”
“Mmm.” She bumps my shoulder with hers. “And the way you’ve been disappearing every day? The mysterious packages from town? Connor’s knowing looks whenever I ask where you are?”
“My brother talks too much.”
“Actually, he doesn’t talk at all. That’s how I know something’s up.” She grins up at me. “You Callahan men think you’re so inscrutable.”
“We are.”
“To everyone else, maybe.” She squeezes my hand. “Not to me.”
The simple truth of that statement hits me square in the chest. She does know me better than anyone ever has. She’s learned to read my silences, my half-smiles, the subtle shifts in my posture that speak volumes. Just as I’ve learned to understand her endless chatter, her wild tangents, the meaning behind each different laugh.
We reach the blind as the sun crests fully over the mountains, casting long shadows across the fresh snow. Rascal has already disappeared inside, leaving tiny paw prints in his wake.
“After you,” I say, suddenly finding it hard to swallow.
Her eyes narrow slightly, picking up on my tension, but she steps inside without comment. Then stops abruptly, a small gasp escaping her lips.
The morning light streams through the windows, illuminating the transformation. The wooden shelf that once held only her supplies now displays the carved forest creatures in a circle around a miniature replica of the blind itself. Tiny carved trail markers create a path between them, leading to the center where a small wooden box sits.
Not the velvet one in my pocket. Not yet.
“Rowan,” she whispers, moving slowly into the space. “What is this?”
I follow her in, watching as she takes in each detail—the animals positioned to mimic her stories, the delicate trail markers with their distinctive blazes, the fresh pine boughs I’ve hung to fill the space with the scent she loves.
“Open it,” I say, nodding to the wooden box.
With careful fingers, she lifts it, running her thumb over the mountain laurel carved into the lid. Inside rests a wooden trail marker unlike the others. It’s larger, more intricate, carved with our initials intertwined among tiny forest creatures.
“It’s beautiful,” she says, lifting it out. “But I don’t understand…”
I take it gently from her hands, turning it over to reveal the words carved into the back:
Some trails are meant to be walked together.
Her eyes lift to mine, bright with questions and something deeper.
“The day you got lost on my trail,” I begin, my voice rougher than intended, “I thought you were another problem to solve. Another city person who didn’t belong in my woods.”
A small smile plays at her lips. “I remember. You were very grumpy about it.”
“I was.” I step closer, turning the marker in my hands. “But you saw magic where I’d forgotten to look. You named the animals and made up stories and refused to believe that any trail was just a path from one place to another.”
“Well, they’re not,” she says with that familiar certainty.
“No,” I agree. “They’re not. Sometimes they’re the beginning of the most important journey of your life. Even when you try your hardest to avoid taking that first step.”
Understanding dawns in her eyes as I set the marker down and reach for her hands.
“I’ve never been good with words,” I continue. “Not like you. But I need you to understand something.”
She nods, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Before you, I was just maintaining trails. Making sure everyone else had safe passage through these mountains. But I wasn’t really living in them.” I take a breath, steadying myself. “You taught me to see the magic again. To remember why I love these woods. Why I belong here.”
“Rowan,” she whispers, her voice catching.
“And now I can’t imagine these mountains without you in them.” I release one of her hands to pull the velvet box from my pocket. “Can’t imagine any trail worth walking if you’re not beside me.”
Her free hand flies to her mouth as I drop to one knee, snow melting into my jeans. I don’t care. In this moment, nothing exists but her. My sunshine in human form, the woman who crashed through every wall I built.
“Daisy Harper,” I say, opening the box to reveal a ring that took weeks to find—a simple band of silver with a solitary diamond wrapped around a small piece of polished mountain laurel wood. “Will you marry me? Will you build a life with me, here in these mountains? Will you help me see the magic every day for the rest of our lives?”
Tears spill down her cheeks, but her smile is brighter than the winter sun outside. “Yes,” she manages. “Yes, you wonderful, grumpy, perfect man.”
Before I can stand, she launches herself at me, knocking us both into the snow that’s dusted the floor of the blind. Her lips find mine in a kiss that tastes of coffee and promises and a future I never dared to dream of.
When we break apart, both breathless, I slip the ring onto her finger with hands that aren’t quite steady.
“It’s perfect,” she whispers, examining it in the morning light. “How did you know?”
“I pay attention.” I echo words from months ago, when she first asked how I knew what she needed in the blind.
A bark interrupts the moment as Rascal, apparently feeling left out, wedges himself between us, his tail wagging furiously as he attempts to lick both our faces at once.
Daisy laughs, the sound filling the small space with joy. “I think he approves.”
“He’d better. I had to bribe him with treats to keep him from following me out here all week.” I sit up, pulling her with me, unwilling to let go. “He almost gave it all away yesterday.”
“Is that why he was so interested in your jacket pocket?” She grins, scratching behind Rascal’s ears. “I thought you were just hiding bacon again.”
“That was one time.”
“One memorable time.” She leans against me, her head fitting perfectly against my shoulder as she admires the ring. “So this is what you’ve been working on all week?”
“Longer,” I admit. “The carvings took time. And working with the jeweler in town to get the design just right…”
“Wait.” She looks up, eyes wide. “You designed this?”
“The box and trail marker are made from mountain laurel. From near where we first met. Where you got lost,” I explain, touching the wooden carving gently. “But for the ring, I worked with Elena, that metalsmith who sells at the farmers market. Told her what I wanted.”
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, examining the delicate silver band with its small, perfect diamond nestled in a setting that mimics mountain laurel petals. “It looks like the flowers are holding the stone.”
“That was the idea.” I feel a hint of pride at her reaction. “Something that belongs here in the mountains, but also catches the light like your smile.”
“Where I found you,” she corrects softly, tracing the petal design with her fingertip.
Something tightens in my chest—the knowledge that she’s right. That I was the lost one, not her. That all her talk of forest guardians and magic was always more truth than fantasy.
“Where we found each other,” I compromise, and she smiles.
“Who knew the grumpy groundskeeper was such a romantic?”
“Don’t tell anyone.” I brush a strand of hair from her face. “I have a reputation to maintain.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” She holds up her ringed hand, making the diamond catch the morning light. “Well, mostly.”
As we sit there in our sanctuary, snow falling gently outside, Rascal curled contentedly in our laps, I feel a certainty I’ve never known before. The trails ahead may not all be marked. There will be unexpected turns, difficult terrain, moments where the path isn’t clear.
But with Daisy beside me, even the unmarked trail feels like home.
***
“Stop smiling like that.”
Daisy glances up from where she’s adjusting her sweater, ring temporarily hidden in her pocket for our grand reveal. “Like what?”
“Like you’ve got a secret that’s about to burst out of you.” I straighten the collar of the flannel shirt she insisted was “perfect for a special occasion”. I think it’s only marginally nicer than my everyday work shirts.
“I do have a secret that’s about to burst out of me.” She rises on tiptoes to kiss my cheek. “A wonderful, life-changing secret that happened this morning.”
“Which we’re supposed to announce at dinner,” I remind her, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. Something about her joy makes it impossible to maintain my usual gruffness. “Not telegraph to everyone the moment we walk in.”
“I’ll be the picture of discretion.” She makes a serious face that lasts approximately two seconds before breaking into another smile. “Though it’s not my fault if your mother takes one look at me and figures it out instantly. That woman has supernatural powers.”
“Don’t I know it.” I’m not entirely sure Mom doesn’t already know. She has an uncanny ability to be three steps ahead of everyone else, especially when it comes to her children’s lives.
The main lodge is warm with laughter and conversation when we arrive, the family having gathered for our monthly dinner tradition. The great room glows with firelight, the long table set with Mom’s best dishes—a sign this was meant to be special even before our news.
Daisy slips the ring into her pocket and squeezes my hand once before letting go, her eyes conveying a silent promise to keep our secret until the right moment. Rascal trots ahead of us, making a beeline for the kitchen where he knows Declan keeps treats for him.
“There they are!” Jameson calls from where he’s arranging wood in the fireplace. “We thought you might have gotten ‘lost’ on another ‘research expedition.'” The air quotes are audible in his tone.
“Some of us have actual work to do,” I counter, falling into the familiar rhythm of brotherly banter.
“Funny, I didn’t know staring at Daisy while she sketches counted as work.” Connor emerges from the dining room, clapping me on the shoulder. His eyes dart between us with a knowing look that makes me wonder if he suspects something.
Before I can dwell on it, Mom appears, wiping her hands on an apron dusted with flour. She takes one look at us and her eyes crinkle at the corners.
“You’re glowing,” she says simply as she pulls Daisy into a warm hug. As they embrace, she murmurs something I can’t quite catch, but Daisy’s blush tells me all I need to know.
She knows.
Mom turns to me next, patting my cheek in that way that makes me feel simultaneously grown and about eight years old. “And you,” she says, her voice soft enough that only I can hear. “Finally found the courage to follow your heart.”
I clear my throat, heat rising to my face. “Thanks, Mom.”
She loops her arm through Daisy’s. “Come help me with the final touches, dear. I want to hear all about your morning walk.”
With a helpless glance back at me, Daisy is swept away toward the dining room. I know an interrogation when I see one, even when it’s disguised as kitchen help.
“So,” Liam materializes at my side, voice pitched low. “She said yes.”
It’s not a question. I shoot him a look anyway. “What makes you say that?”
My oldest brother raises an eyebrow, unimpressed by my attempt at ignorance. “The only time you’ve ever voluntarily worn your good flannel to family dinner was when you were trying to impress Heather’s parents. And Daisy looks like she might float away if someone doesn’t anchor her down.”
Sometimes I forget that for all his business focus, Liam misses nothing when it comes to his family.
“Yes,” I confirm quietly. “This morning. At the blind.”
He nods, a genuine smile softening his usually serious face. “Congratulations. She’s perfect for you.”
“What’s perfect?” Max appears, toolbelt still attached to his waist despite the dinner setting. At twenty-six, my cousin is perpetually in the middle of some project.
“Nothing,” I say, just as Liam answers, “Daisy accepting Rowan’s proposal.”
I glare at my brother while Max’s face breaks into a wide grin.
“No way! That’s awesome!” He claps me on the back with enough force to make me stumble. “Does that mean I can finally build you guys that bed frame I’ve been designing? The one with forest creatures carved into the headboard?”
“Keep your voice down,” I hiss, glancing toward the kitchen where Daisy and Mom have disappeared. “We haven’t made the announcement yet.”
“What announcement?” Declan emerges from the kitchen, a dish towel slung over his shoulder and Rascal at his heels, looking suspiciously well-fed.
“Rowan finally proposed,” Max says, ignoring my warning glare.
Declan’s eyebrows shoot up, then he nods approvingly. “About time. That’s why she kept asking for baking lessons, then. Said she wanted to surprise you with something special.”
“She’s been taking baking lessons?” This is news to me.
“For weeks. Wanted to make those blackberry muffins you like.” He smirks. “She’s terrible at it. Burns everything. But determined.”
The thought of Daisy struggling through baking lessons just to make something I’d enjoy warms me in a way I can’t quite express.
“Don’t tell her I told you,” Declan adds. “She wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Unlike your engagement,” Connor joins in, having overheard. “Which is the least surprising news since Liam announced he was taking over as lodge manager.”
“Was I that obvious?” I run a hand through my hair, frustration mounting.
“Yes,” four voices chorus in unison.
“Great.”
Connor slings an arm around my shoulders. “Relax, little brother. We’re happy for you. Even if we all saw it coming from the moment she got lost on your trail.”
“Except maybe Daisy,” Jameson adds with a grin. “She’s the only one who seemed surprised you finally made a move.”
I’m saved from responding by Mom calling us all to dinner. As we file into the dining room, I catch Daisy’s eye across the table. She gives me a small, private smile that somehow makes the teasing worth it.
The meal progresses with the usual chaos of family dinner. Dishes are passed, stories shared, there’s the comfortable overlap of conversations that comes from people who know each other inside and out. Through it all, Daisy plays her part perfectly, keeping her left hand strategically below the table or occupied with her napkin.
By the time dessert arrives—Declan’s special raspberry chocolate cake that I now realize was planned for this very occasion—I’m increasingly certain the entire family already knows. Still, there’s something meaningful about making it official.
As coffee is poured, Liam catches my eye and gives a subtle nod of encouragement. Now or never.
I clear my throat, the sound effectively cutting through the various conversations. Seven pairs of eyes turn to me with expressions ranging from excitement to barely contained anticipation.
“I, uh…” Words have never been my strong suit, especially with an audience. “We have something to share.”
Under the table, Daisy’s hand finds mine, a lifeline of warmth and reassurance.
“This morning,” I continue, steadier now, “I asked Daisy to marry me.”
A beat of silence.
“And?” Jameson prompts, though a knowing grin.
Daisy’s smile could power the entire lodge as she finally brings her left hand above the table, the ring catching the warm light from the overhead chandelier. “I said yes.”
The table erupts. Mom dabs at her eyes with her napkin, though her smile is radiant. Liam raises his glass in a silent toast. Connor and Jameson let out whoops of celebration that startle Rascal from his nap under the table.
“I knew it!” Max exclaims, practically bouncing in his seat. “Wait till you see the wedding gift I’m building you.”
“Let them get married first,” Liam reminds him, but his smile is warm.
“When’s the wedding?” Ivy asks, leaning forward eagerly. “Please say spring. The lodge is gorgeous in spring.”
“We’re thinking when the mountain laurel blooms,” Daisy answers, her eyes finding mine across the commotion. “It seems fitting.”
“Perfect,” Mom says, emotion making her voice slightly unsteady. “Just perfect.”
Declan rises, glass in hand. “To Rowan and Daisy. May your trails always lead you home to each other.”
“To Rowan and Daisy,” the family echoes, raising their glasses in unison.
As the initial excitement settles into a buzz of questions—where will they live, has she thought about a dress, will they honeymoon somewhere or stay at the lodge—I find myself watching Daisy. She fields each inquiry with her usual grace and humor, already so much a part of this family that it’s hard to remember a time when she wasn’t here.
“I told you,” Mom says quietly, having made her way to my side while I was distracted. “I told you she was different.”
“You did,” I acknowledge, remembering her gentle persistence when I was determined to push Daisy away.
“I think you should consider the east ridge property,” she continues, her practical side emerging. “The old Stevens cabin. It needs work, but it has that view of the valley Daisy loves, and it’s close enough to the lodge for convenience but far enough for privacy.”
“You’ve already been planning this,” I observe, not really surprised.
She pats my arm. “I’ve been waiting for this since the day the two of you met on the trail and you came back to the lodge looking like you’d been struck by lightning.”
Across the table, Daisy laughs at something Connor has said, her hands animated as she presumably recounts our morning. She belongs here, in this chaos of family and love and tradition. Fits in a way I never expected anyone could.
Eventually, the dinner winds down. Dishes are cleared, coffee mugs refilled, and the family migrates to the great room where the fire has been built up against the winter chill. I find myself in a quiet corner, watching as Max shows Daisy his sketches for furniture he insists on building for us.
It’s strange, this feeling of fullness. Of completion. For years, I’ve defined myself by my solitude, by the quiet comfort of trails and trees. By staying while others left.
Now I’m choosing a different path. One filled with children’s book readings and chaotic family dinners and a tiny dog in purple sweaters. One where solitude is balanced by the warmth of partnership, where silence makes room for stories.
“Penny for your thoughts, forest guardian?” Daisy appears at my side, slipping her hand into mine with the easy familiarity that still amazes me.
“Just thinking about trails,” I say honestly.
“Of course you are.” She leans against me, fitting perfectly under my arm. “Any particular trail?”
“The one we’re making together.”
Her smile is soft, intimate in a way that makes the noisy room fade around us. “That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said.”
“Don’t get used to it.” But I’m smiling too, unable to maintain my gruff facade.
“Too late.” She rises on tiptoes to kiss me, brief but meaningful. “I’m already used to the real you. The one who carves animals into trail markers and builds wildlife blinds and proposes in the snow.”
From across the room, Connor raises his glass in our direction, a silent acknowledgment that we’ve been caught in our private moment. Soon, the others notice, and more glasses are raised. Even Rascal seems to sense the importance, abandoning his spot by the fire to trot over and curl up at our feet.
“To the trails ahead,” Daisy whispers, just for me.
I tighten my arm around her shoulders, anchoring her against my side where she belongs. “To the trails ahead.”
And for once, I don’t mind that the path isn’t clearly marked. With Daisy beside me, even the unknown feels like an adventure worth taking.
*** The End ***
I hope you’ve enjoyed reading Sunshine and the Grumpy Groundskeeper and this little bonus epilogue. Ready for more? If you’re looking for another Callahan Brother Romance, you’re in luck. There’s an entire series of them. Next up is The Sweet Chef and the Corporate Queen – Declan and Jules’s story.
And when you’re done with those, I recommend you check out the Alphabet Sweetheart series that takes place in neighboring Juniper Falls
Happy Reading!