Page 20 of The Rancher's Runaway Bride
“What is this?” she asks, her voice softer now.
“Valentine’s Day,” I say simply, leading her toward the blanket spread out on the grass. A cluster of candles flickers in the evening breeze, their warm light reflecting off the water. Rose petals are scattered across the blanket, and a bottle of champagne sits chilling in a bucket nearby.
Layla stops short, her eyes wide. “You did all this?”
I shrug, trying to play it cool even though my chest tightens at the look on her face. “Figured you deserved something nice.”
Her lips part, but no words come out. For once, she’s speechless, and I can’t help but smirk.
“You’re welcome,” I say, tugging her hand and pulling her onto the blanket.
She shakes her head, a disbelieving laugh slipping out. “You’re impossible.”
“True.” I grab the champagne, popping the cork and pouring us each a glass. “But you like me anyway.”
Layla takes the glass, her fingers brushing mine. “Mm, good thing I like arrogant cowboys.”
We settle onto the blanket, the soft sounds of the lake lapping against the shore filling the silence. She leans back, gazing at the soft outline of the moon that’s just beginning to appear in the sky. For a moment, I just watch her, the candlelight casting her features in a warm glow.
“This is perfect,” she murmurs, her voice so quiet I almost miss it.
“Good.” I reach for the lasso I brought along, a grin tugging at my lips. “But it’s about to get better.”
She sits up, eyeing the rope with suspicion. “What are you doing with that?”
“Teaching you how to lasso,” I say, standing and tossing the rope over my shoulder. “Unless you’re scared.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “I’m not scared.”
“Prove it.” I walk a few feet away, looping the rope around a nearby stump. “Come on, city girl. Show me what you’ve got.”
Layla huffs but gets to her feet, brushing off her jeans. “Fine. But if I end up tangled in this thing, you’re not allowed to laugh.”
“No promises.” I hand her the rope, stepping behind her to guide her movements. My hands cover hers, the warmth of her body pressed against mine making it damn hard to focus.
“Hold it like this,” I say, my voice low as I adjust her grip. “And then swing it over your head.”
She tries, but the lasso flies wide, missing the stump by a mile. “Oops,” she says, her cheeks turning pink.
“Not bad for a first try,” I tease. “But maybe you need a little more help.”
Before she can protest, I wrap my arms around her, guiding her hands with mine. The tension between us thickens, her breath hitching as I lean closer.
“Now, try again,” I murmur, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.
This time, the lasso lands perfectly around the stump. Layla lets out a triumphant laugh, turning in my arms to face me. Her smile is bright, her eyes shining with excitement.
“Look at that,” I say, my voice rougher now. “You’re a natural.”
Her laughter fades as our gazes lock, the space between us shrinking. I don’t think—I just move, my lips capturing hers in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate. She doesn’t pull away, her fingers tangling in my shirt as she kisses me back.
When we finally break apart, she’s breathless, her cheeks flushed. “What was that for?” she whispers.
“Because I couldn’t wait any longer,” I admit, my voice low and honest. “Layla, I want to make it clear that I want you to stay. Not just for a while—forever.”
Her eyes widen, and I take her hands in mine, holding them tightly. “I’ll marry you tomorrow if that’s what you want. Or we can plan a big wedding, whatever makes you happy. But I need you to know—I want this. I want us.”
Tears well in her eyes, and for a moment, I think she might say no. But then she nods, a smile breaking through. “Yes,” she says, her voice shaky but sure. “I’ll stay. I’ll marry you.”
