Page 28 of Spooking the Mountain Man
The afternoon drags. Kelly's restless, unable to focus on anything. She tries to read but gives up after reading the same page three times. She starts organizing the bookshelf, then abandons that too. Finally, she just sits next to me on the couch, tucked under my arm, fidgeting.
"Baby," I say after the tenth time she shifts position, "you need to relax."
"I can't," Kelly admits. "I'm too excited. And nervous. What if I don't like how it looks on me? What if—"
"Kelly." I turn her to face me, my hands on her shoulders. "Stop overthinking this. It's going to be perfect because it's ours. Because it means something to both of us. Okay?"
She takes a deep breath and nods. "Okay."
"Good girl." I press a kiss to her forehead. "Now, how about you help me make dinner? That'll give you something to do with your hands."
Cooking together helps. Kelly relaxes as we fall into our familiar rhythm—me chopping vegetables while she handles the pasta, both of us moving around the kitchen in comfortable synchronization.
We eat dinner on the couch, some movie playing in the background that neither of us is really watching. Kelly barely touches her food, too wound up to eat.
"Baby," I say gently. "You need to eat."
"I know, I just..." She sets down her fork. "Can we do it now? Please?"
I look at her—at the anticipation and nervousness and trust in her eyes—and I can't make her wait any longer.
"Yeah," I say, setting aside my own plate. "We can do it now."
Kelly's breath catches. "Really?"
"Really." I stand and offer her my hand. "Come on."
I lead her to our bedroom, the small black box in my pocket. Kelly's hand is trembling in mine, and I can feel her nervous energy practically vibrating through her.
"Sit on the bed," I tell her, and she obeys immediately.
I pull the box from my pocket and open it, the silver chain catching the lamplight. Kelly's eyes are locked on it, wide and wondering.
"Before I put this on you," I say, my voice serious, "I need you to understand what it means. This isn't just a necklace, baby girl. This is my claim on you. My promise to take care of you, to protect you, to give you what you need. When you wear this, everyone's going to know you belong to someone. That you're mine."
"I want that," Kelly says immediately. "I want everyone to know I'm yours."
"Are you sure? Because once this goes on, I'm not taking it off. You're mine, Kelly. Completely."
"I'm already yours completely," she whispers. "This just makes it visible."
The trust in her voice, in her eyes, makes my chest tight with emotion. "Stand up."
Kelly stands, and I move behind her. "Lift your hair."
She gathers her hair in both hands, exposing the pale column of her throat. I can see her pulse fluttering, can hear her breathing quicken.
I open the clasp and bring the chain around her neck. The silver looks perfect against her skin, the pendant settling right at the hollow of her throat.
"This is mine," I say as I fasten the clasp. "You are mine. My girl. My responsibility. My privilege to care for."
"Yours," Kelly agrees, her voice barely audible.
The clasp clicks shut, and I let my hands rest on her shoulders for a moment, both of us processing the weight of what just happened.
"Look at yourself," I say, turning her toward the mirror above the dresser.
Kelly's eyes go wide when she sees her reflection. The collar sits perfectly, delicate and beautiful and unmistakably meaningful. She reaches up to touch it with trembling fingers.
