Page 163 of The Flirty Vet

Now that we're all settled into our new life and our home, I figured it was finally time to do themeet the parent and best friendthing.

I glance at Dad who's wandered over to Brant and wrapped an arm around his waist as they both watch Polly fist the gooey bits of dough into what will be, in about forty-five minutes, a batch of delicious scones.

The kids are talking to Emma and Katrina about last night's football match. Despite watching it with them, I'm still not completely sure what I witnessed. Australian football—or rugby league as they call it—is…weird. The rules make no sense at all to me.

Wilby saunters over, and my mind revisits our three-hour sex marathon last night. One of the benefits of living kid-free in our own house.

"What are you smiling about?" he asks, sliding into the chair next to me.

I lift a brow.

"Right." He chuckles hoarsely. "Say no more."

I brush my hand up his arm. "I'm also thinking about how I'm so glad it didn't take either one of us getting hit by a bus to realize what we've got."

"No. Just getting kicked in the back by a pissed-off cow and you having to fly with Gran in a light plane in the middle of the night. So much better."

I grin. "Yeah, but technically, I knew I loved you before that."

He juts his chin out, his smile turning mischievous. "When did you first realise you were in love with me? Was it when you first opened your hotel window and took in all of this…" He leans back and waves a hand in front of himself. "Or was it when you stepped out of the hotel lobby and got a proper close-up look?"

I start laughing. "You are so full of yourself,mate."

Yep. That's my endearment for him, and I'm sticking to it. I know it's a commonly used term here in Australia, but he's the only person I ever call that. Everyone else can deal with being calledmanorbuddyor whatever other Americanism the vet crew like to tease me about using.

"You love it, Cap."

I roll my eyes even though we both know I do.

Wilby goes over the plan for the afternoon. I suggested to him earlier that we should go for a drive down to the river so I can show Dad and Brant where I scattered Mom's ashes. I even managed to keep my nerves at bay and make it seem all nice and casual, like there was nothing else going on under the surface.

I glance across the room at Dad, who turns his head to me at the exact same moment. He eyes Wilby—he loves him, naturally—and gives me an almost imperceptible nod.

I try to hide my smile, hoping Wilby's not noticing anything unusual going on. I want it to be a total surprise.

Because this formerly uptight and cranky American is only planning on having one matefor life.

I told Dad and Brant before they arrived that I was planning on proposing, and I had a quiet chat with Polly outlining my intentions last week. And, yes, I asked for her permission. It might be antiquated, but it was important for me to do it.Judging by the tears in her eyes as she walloped me on the back and let out an almighty, "Fuck yeah," I think it meant a lot to her, too.

Only Wilby's in the dark… I hope.

He's picked up that I'm a little edgier than normal, but I've blamed that on nerves, on wanting Brant and Dad to fit in and get along with his family. They've been here for three days, and everyone is getting along great, so I can't really keep milking that excuse.

This afternoon can't come quick enough. I need to get down to that river and propose stat.

"You okay?" Wilby checks, noticing my fingers fidgeting. "Is there anything you need from me?"

To sayyeswhen I propose would be nice, but I can't say that. His expression lets me know that he's genuinely concerned about me, and I hate making him worry unnecessarily. Especially if he's jumping to the wrong conclusion like I suspect he might be.

"It's not the anxiety," I say quietly, hoping to keep this conversation private. "Really."

"Are you sure?"

"I am. And I'd tell you if it was. I promise."

My anxiety still rears its head occasionally, sometimes at the strangest times, but, like always, I deal with it.

And Wilby's been great. He's scoured the internet and read everything he could find about it. He probably knows more about the condition than I do…though I'll never admit that to him.

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