Page 139 of Outlaw Heartstrings
The hem of my blush pink dress swishes around my knees as Easton leads me through the field of flowers overlooking the town of Fairy Bush.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get a reservation at one of the restaurants in town for our date tonight.” Glancing back at me over his shoulder, he offers a sheepish expression.
I stare out at the serene lookout at Marigold Peak and the color show of lights at the sun sets. “I suspect that this option might be infinitely better.”
This lookout holds so many memories for us. Teenaged bonfires. Breaking curfew. Drinking things we shouldn’t have been.
But right now, all I see is Easton Raines, framed by the sea of yellow flowers rising up all around us. And I know that we’ll be making yet another memory tonight.
He grabs my hand, stopping in his tracks just long enough to bring my knuckles to his lips. “Still can’t believe you’re here with me…” he whispers, his dimples denting his stubbled cheeks when he smiles.
“There’s honestly no place in the world I’d rather beright now,” I admit.
I feel so lucky that this man is mine. I feel cherished. When he says he loves me, I know he means it. Because to him, ‘I love you’ is more than three little words. ‘I love you’ is backed up by actions.
It’s the way he showed up at my house this morning even though he was scared out of his mind.
It’s the way he took Jagger to the hockey rink earlier afternoon, because to Easton, making the little boy secure in their bond is just as important as securing his relationship with me.
It’s the way he made sure to pick up some donuts from Sweetie’s for me on the way back home.
I’m lucky. So lucky. Being loved by this man makes me the luckiest girl alive.
He’s exceptionally handsome this evening, in a white button-down. His waves are perfectly shaggy, his beard is freshly groomed, and he smellssogood. Likereallygood.
He releases my hand, plucks a large checkered blanket from the picnic basket he’s carrying and spreads it on the ground. Then together, we kneel on the blanket, laying out the croissants, cheeses and fresh fruit we brought along with us.
Then, Easton sits on the blanket, stretching his arms wide for me. With a smile on my face, I crawl over to him, tucking myself against his strong, broad chest.
The view from Marigold Peak is breathtaking at this time of evening as the setting sun dims in the sky. Shades of yellow, orange, blue and purple stretch across the canvas overhead.
The sky is tie-dye, and I don’t care what anyone has to say about that.
“Hi…” he whispers, slipping a delicate marigold behind myear.
“Hi…” I reply, twisting in his arms and tracing my fingertip down the bridge of his strong nose.
He grabs my hand, playfully nibbling on my digits. I giggle like a mindless schoolgirl. Being with him just feels so good, so right. Despite the uncertainty of the future, knowing we’ll be facing it together makes me strong. It takes all my fears away.
“I want to read something to you,” he announces.
I ease off of his chest so he can grab the book that’s been hidden at the bottom of the picnic basket. My favorite Emma Stanley-Westbrook book. The story of Tyler and Emily.
Easton reclines on the blanket, one arm slung beneath his head like a pillow. I reclaim my spot, cuddled against his side.
He opens the book to a page I’ve read so often, my favorite passages underlined in red ink and the margins annotated with hand-drawn hearts and smily faces.
In this scene, Tyler is ready to win Emily back, but first, he must win over Emily’s overprotective father. When Easton begins to read Tyler’s declaration to his future father-in-law, I hold my breath.
“I don’t ‘just’ love her. This feeling is bigger than love. I roll over in bed every morning, praying that she had the sweetest dreams. When I’m making my first cup of coffee, I think about the two heaping spoons of sugar she stirs into her green tea. At lunchtime, before I take the first bite of my meal, I wonder if she’s taken the time to eat. When I step through my front door in the evening, I get visions of her running down the hallway into my arms. Night time is the worst, because the chill from my cold sheets claws at me while I struggle to sleep without her in the spot next to me. I worry about her. I wonder about her. I pray forher—and I’ve never been a praying man. She lives inside my bones. She inhabits my lungs. She throbs in my veins. I don’tjustlove her. The man I’m meant to be in this world doesn’t exist unless I’m with her.”
Easton’s stare finds mine and he wipes the tears spilling from my eyes. “That scene steals my breath every time,” I whisper.
“It’s a good scene.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “But it doesn’t even begin to do justice to the way I feel about you.”
Swoon.
Laying side by side in the field, we take turns, reading to each other.
