Page 73 of Fast Currents
My throat tightened. When we met, I thought I was a bad bet too. I wasn’t ready to trust. Not him, not myself.
But teasing her is the most fun I’ve had in forever. Does it make me a bad person that I can’t stop? She’s feisty. It’s the firsttime in a long time that I’ve felt awake. Like I’ve been in a fog, and she’s a sharp wind that cuts through all the noise.
I don’t know if she’ll ever want me.
But God, I hope she does.
I swiped at a hot tear that had no right sharing my business, sniffing. Clay Robertson was a menace. I looked at him through blurry eyes, struggling to find the words. All at once, I knew exactly what to say.
“Marry me.”
Clay stalled, blinking. His breath hitched, chest rising once. The moment stretched, my heart thumping, the sound growing louder and louder in my ears when he didn’t answer. He lay next to me, utterly naked and yet still willing to reveal even more of himself. Of his heart. All the teasing and ribbing in the world couldn’t cover up how much he’d come to mean to me. He’d been mine since the day we met. It just took me a while to realize it.
“Say it again,” he whispered. “Please.”
“Marry me, Clay.”
He surged up, cupping my face in both hands like he couldn’t believe I was real. “Yes. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Loving you.”
I sniffed, wiping at another tear. “You’re saying it better than I am.”
“Honey, it’s ‘cause I’ve had more practice. I only stopped asking because I didn’t want to scare you away.”
“I’m tougher than that,” I protested, wiping at my eye.
Clay gathered me in his arms, mouth quirking at one corner. “Sure, you are, Luce. You’re one tough cookie. It’s one of the things I love about you.”
“Shit. We’re really going to do this.”
His chuckle shook my chest. “Words every man wants to hear after a marriage proposal.”
I smacked him gently. “How are you so calm?”
“I’ve had months to prepare. Waiting for you to catch up has been killing me inside.”
I leaned back. “Is that why you’ve been so anal about Thanksgiving? You’re pouring your frustrated marriage proposals into dinner?”
“Nah.” He grinned. “That’s just me.” He dropped a smacking kiss on my mouth. “No takebacks. You’re stuck with me now.”
“The devil keeps her bargains.”
“Good. ‘Cause, make no mistake, you own my soul.”
“Dammit. Now I want to ask you to marry me all over again.”
His chuckle made me smile. “That’s okay. You keep practicing, baby. It gets easier every time.” He kissed me tenderly. “And I promise, I’ll keep saying yes.”
***
If I thought Clay’s attention to Thanksgiving details might ease after I proposed, I was mistaken. If anything, he doubled down on his recipe searches.
“We don’t have to tell your family about our engagement at Thanksgiving if it’s too much pressure,” I offered, watching him scribble furiously at his planning notebook.
“Don’t you dare try to weasel out of our engagement,” he muttered, glaring up at me. “I will chuck the whole meal in the trash before I let that happen.”
“Whoa, Robertson. Ease up. It was just a suggestion. If it’s not our engagement, what’s driving all of this?” I gestured to the stack of cookbooks.
“I want to celebrate the things I’m thankful for. Chief among them isyou.”
