Page 105 of Single-Minded
He laughed like a kid, shaking his head. “Hell no. Let’s do this.”
Also like a kid, West tore into the wrapping paper while I bit my lip, my gaze locked on his face.
As soon as the painting was revealed, his eyes crinkled with a grin, then they popped open in disbelief. “Holy shit balls, Presley.”
I swallowed, encouraged by that initial reaction but not at ease yet.
“What did you do?” he asked, still smiling, the smile still reaching his eyes. “Who made this?”
“I commissioned Shawna Jenkins. She used the photos we took at the Honeysuckle Festival.”
Using the llama photos as a guide, Shawna had painted the five of us—West, me, and the girls—plus Betty and Esmerelda. The main difference between the photos and this painting was that, in this, West and I stood side by side between the llamas, with Nova in my arms and Scarlet and Sienna in front of us. Like a family instead of two near-strangers on opposite ends with three girls drawing us together.
He let out a laughing howl as he stepped back to take it all in. “This is incredible, Pres.” He held his hand out to me, his eyes still taking in the details. “We look like a family.”
I took his hand, stood, and moved next to him. “You guys are my family, but I want to make sure this doesn’t come across as pressure to make any changes. I know the girls are key, and we’re taking it slow. I’m okay with that.”
“You are?” His smile faded and his brow furrowed.
“As long as I have a piece of you, West, I can be patient. It’s you I want. Not necessarily a husband. Not until you’re ready.” I wound my hands to the back of his neck, went up on my toes, and pressed a kiss to his lips.
He caught me, pulled me up against him, and took the kiss deeper, reassuring me he’d received the painting in the spirit it was intended.
“Thank you, Presley,” he said eventually. “I fucking love it.”
“Thank goodness.”
“You were truly worried?”
“Maybe a little bit. I know I can come across like a loose cannon, but I hear you, West. I understand you want to go slow and why.”
West
I pressed another kiss to my gorgeous, understanding Presley, acknowledged my own worries, then went to the overnight bag where I’d packed a change of clothes. I riffled through it until I found the ring box that contained the biggest, prettiest ring I could afford.
I wasn’t too worried about the size. It wasn’t the largest stone, but it wasn’t puny either, and I knew Presley well enough to understand she wasn’t about showiness. She might value her investment accounts, but it was about security, not ego or showing off. That was one of the many reasons I loved her so damn much.
As I took a moment with my back to her, the velvet box in my hand, I gathered my nerve, closed my eyes momentarily, and hoped she’d meant she wanted me as her husband when I was ready.
Because I was ready.
With the box enclosed in my hand, I straightened, faced her, met her curious gaze.
I stepped up to her and laced the fingers of my empty hand with hers. “Did you mean what you said? About wanting me in whatever way I can give you?”
“Absolutely.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling with love and affection.
Man, this woman was so fucking beautiful and good and had the best heart. I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve her, but I was thankful every single day.
“I want to give you everything, Presley. Every corner of my heart, every bit of my love, every day for the rest of my life. I want to share all the joy and challenges and laughter and good coffee this life can throw at us. I want to be a family with you. I want you to be the mother figure my daughters look up to, take comfort from, and learn from, because you’re the most incredible role model for love, inspiration, and badassery.” Still naked as the day I was born, I went down on one knee, thinking maybe I should’ve pulled on some pants first, but screw it. I was baring myself to her in every possible way. I flipped the box open, plucked the princess cut diamond ring out, and held it up with fingers that shook. “Presley Holiday, will you marry me?”
If I thought her face showed happiness before, it glowed with joy now, her eyes going big and sparkly, and everything in me felt as if it clicked into place. The normally unflappable love of my life blinked, and tears flowed down her cheeks as she nodded. “Yes, I’ll marry you, my burly, badass, teddy bear of a man. Yes to all of it.”
I stood, tossed the empty box to the bed, and held her left hand between us. Breathing in deeply, I tried to steady myself as I gently slid the ring on her finger.
She held up her hand and studied the ring. “I love it, West. I love you.”
I drew her against me, her robe flapping open so we were skin to skin, my erection pressing into her abdomen insistently. I kissed her thoroughly, passionately, fervently, then pulled back enough to gaze into her soulful blue eyes. “I love you so much, Presley.”
