Page 39 of Our Bay Will Come

I shake my head. "Not for much longer."

Rowan raises an eyebrow. "You finally gonna tell people?"

"Once you and Cilla get back from Hawaii." I lower my voice, though the band is loud enough to cover our conversation. "The ring's been burning a hole in my pocket for weeks."

"Shit, man." Rowan's face breaks into a grin. "You're doing it."

"Unless you think she'll say no."

"After watching her look at you like that all night?" He nods toward Prue, who's now glancing our way, a small, private smile on her lips. "Not a chance."

The band shifts to a slower song, and I straighten my tie. "If you'll excuse me. Best man has duties to attend to."

"Sure, 'duties,'" Rowan smirks, but I'm already moving across the floor.

Prue meets me halfway like she always does. I extend my hand, and she takes it, letting me pull her close as we sway.

"Mrs. Malone seems happy," I say, nodding toward Cilla, wrapped in Rowan's arms at the center of the dance floor.

"It’s Dr. Malone, now." Prue corrects me. Cilla successfully defended her dissertation weeks ago. The wedding timing couldn't have been more perfect. "And they're good together."

"They are." Prue's fingers play with the hair at the nape of my neck. "Though I still can't believe my baby sister beat me to the altar."

"Does that bother you?" I ask carefully, studying her face.

"Not at all." She leans closer, her perfume—something with vanilla and spice—making my head swim. "I'm exactly where I want to be."

"And where's that?"

"Here. With you." She rests her head against my chest, and I tighten my arms around her waist. "Even if we are still sneaking around like teenagers."

I chuckle, the vibration rumbling between us. "I thought you enjoyed the secrecy. The thrill of it all."

"I did. I do." She looks up at me. "But I'm also tired of pretending I'm not in love with you when everyone asks why I'm spending so much time in Cedar Bay."

My heart stutters. Even after a year, hearing Prue say those words does something to me. "And what do you tell them?"

"That I'm consulting on a big project. That I'm helping Cilla with wedding stuff. That I'm studying the architectural history of coastal Oregon." She rolls her eyes. "I'm running out of excuses."

"Maybe you don't need them anymore," I say, guiding her into a gentle turn.

She follows my lead effortlessly. We've always moved well together since that first night. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," I say, pulling her closer so my lips brush her ear, "Maybe it's time to stop hiding."

"Really?" There's a hopeful note in her voice that makes my chest ache. "You're ready for that?"

"I've been ready since you showed up at my job site after lunch with Cilla." I pull back enough to meet her eyes. "I was just waiting for you."

The song ends, but we keep swaying, oblivious to the faster tempo that's started up.

"Fox Carmichael," she says, her blue eyes serious, "are you asking me something?"

"Not yet." I brush my thumb across her cheekbone. "But soon."

Her smile is slow, knowing. "Soon as in...?"

"Soon, as in when my best friend gets back from his honeymoon." I spin her once more. "I figure one major life event at a time is enough for this group. Besides, I am not a man who believes in upstaging newlyweds."

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