Page 24 of Dirty Cowboy

She frowns, scrolling through the results. “No police department?”

“Just a sheriff with a room full of stacked boxes and unsorted paperwork.” I reach across and gently close her laptop. “Ems?”

Her gaze flicks to mine, curiosity dancing in her expression. “What?”

“Stop and smell the roses.”

Her lips part slightly, a protest forming, but I shake my head. “There’s something else I need to ask you.”

The train hums beneath us, rolling forward, sealing us inside this conversation. There’s nowhere for her to run, and no brothers to interfere. It’s time to be honest. Or at least, as honest as I can be.

Her eyes narrow slightly, cautious but intrigued. “What is it?”

I inhale deeply, my chest tightening. “You know how you lie to protect people, Ems?”

She nods slowly. “Yeah?”

I hold her gaze, my stomach twisting. “I lied, too.”

She stiffens. “About what?”

I rub my palms against my thighs, the weight of my next words pressing against my ribs. “I don’t need you to be my girlfriend. I need you to be my fiancée.”

Eric kneels before me, and for a second, the sight steals my breath. His broad shoulders, usually so self-assured, seem strangely out of place in such a vulnerable position. The diamond ring he holds glints in the soft light, mirroring the swirl of emotions inside me—excitement, disbelief, and just a touch of fear.

My heart pounds so hard, I’m convinced he can hear it. This is it. The proposal I’ve imagined since I was old enough to daydream about forever, is happening.

Granted, it’s a little skewed in reality. The ring isn’t what I would’ve chosen, but it’s stunning. Vintage platinum, a unique yellow stone in the center—a far cry from the modern cut I prefer. But that’s not what matters. What matters isEric Waters is proposing.

He holds my hand gently, those calloused fingers sending heat up my arm as he repeats, “So, Ems? Will you be my pretend fiancée?”

Apretendfiancée.

I swallow hard, trying to ignore the panic warring with excitement in my chest. In a mere twelve hours, I’ve gone from being the Silver brothers’ kid sister to afiancée.It’s ridiculous, yet here I am, contemplating it like this is a real, life-altering crossroad. And in a way, it is.

Because if I do this—if I sayyes—it’s my golden ticket to getting Eric to finallyseeme as more than his best friend’s little sister.

I suppress the bubbling squeal threatening to spill out.

Play it cool, Mrs. Emma Silver-Waters.

“It may not be the kind of proposal I had imagined, but if you think it will convince your grandfather, then yes. I will be your pretend fiancée.”

His lips curve into that lazy, devastating smirk as he slides the ring onto my finger. My stomach flips, a blend of excitement and sheer terror coiling inside me. The weight of the ring is heavier than I expect, and so symbolic of the game we’re about to play.

But it looks magnificent.

“What kind of proposal did you have in mind?” he asks, stretching his long legs forward as he settles into the seat across from me.

The way his sweater clings to his broad chest and strong arms is downright distracting. I catch myself staring too long and clear my throat. “Maybe a sunset picnic in a cornfield.”

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “A cornfield? How would you even see the sunset with all that corn in the way?”

“Fine, then how about a field of sunflowers?”

“A sunflower field?” His lips twitch. “That’s cute.”

My eyes snap to his, and I find something warm there, something soft. The cabin shrinks, the space between us charged with something that has nothing to do with fake engagements and everything to do with the way he’s looking at me.

---