Page 111 of A Rancher's Love
“Of course you do. Old people like you should always have a nap in the afternoon.”
A snicker greeted him. “You’re the same age as me,” Luke pointed out.
“It’s the extra five days you've been alive. Makes a man tire far more easily,” Tucker deadpanned. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you don’t get caught drooling in your sleep.”
Luke eased his horse close enough to offer a brotherly punch to Tucker’s shoulder. “Ass.”
“Jerk.”
His friend turned his horse toward his house. “On that note—call if you need help.”
“Will do.”
Tucker headed back to the cottage—backhome—and wasn’t that an outright thrill to acknowledge? Ginny had thrown down and demanded he give up the pretense of living anywhere but with her.
Moving in had not been a hardship, although Tucker now eyed the small cottage with ideas for improvements that would fit their new future.
A future together.
A future he’d like to define a little more clearly, and today seemed as good a day as any.
Ginny stood outside at the picnic table he’d built, wooden spoon moving through a massive bowl as she mixed up enough potato salad to feed the horde of people expected to descend for her birthday barbeque.
“Need a hand?” he asked.
She paused and offered her lips for a kiss. Then smiling contentedly, she considered. “Food is under control for now. Kelli and Tamara are making the rest of the salads, the steaks are marinating, so until the barbeques need heating up, you are off the hook.”
Exactly where he didn’t want to be—off the hook. He wanted hooks, and strings, not to mention promises of forever.
Tucker glanced around, but for once, miracle of miracles, there were no Stone nieces or Silver Stone ranch hands in sight.
He pulled the spoon from her fingers and dropped it in the bowl. Then he went down on one knee beside her, holding her hands in his.
Their fingers slipped, mayonnaise from the salad coating them in a slippery, mustardy layer with bits of thyme thrown in for good measure. He made a second grab, holding tighter this time even as amusement rose.
Of course they’d end up slathered with food with Ginny involved.
“Goddess.”
Ginny frowned for a second, then snickered. “Really?”
“You love me, I love you. It makes sense.”
She brayed out a laugh. “Points for the least romantic proposal ever.”
Tucker raised a brow. “What makes you think I’m proposing? I just wanted to know if I could have your potato salad recipe.”
She plopped onto the picnic bench, snickering so hard she gasped for air. Her cheeks shot to rosy red, and she smiled with her heart in her eyes. “I do love you, superman.”
“I know, which means it would be a really smart move if you were to marry me.”
She tilted her head to the side. Adorable, sexy. Everything he’d ever wanted. “What if I want you as a boyfriend for a little longer?”
He gave up kneeling and sat beside her on the bench. “Nothing can be simple with you, can it?”
“Probably not. Yet you seem willing to sign on for more of this delectable torture.” Ginny wiped her palms carelessly on her shirt then cupped his face. “Do I want to be with you? Absolutely.”
“Then marry me.”
