Page 115 of Ablaze

“Tenterhooks.”

My brows bunch together. “The fuck are tenterhooks? It’s tender hooks,” I assert.

She shakes her head, her lips pressing against each other and though I can’t see her eyes, I know she’s closed them in that way when she worries I’m a card short of a full deck. “Dean, when has a hook ever been tender?”

I turn onto the rocky driveway and put my truck into park before turning toward her. I place my index finger under her chin, turning her face to mine. “See? I’m hooking your chin, tenderly.”

Mala’s mouth stretches into a smile before she gives up and giggles. And God, I’ll act like the biggest idiot in the world for the rest of my life if that’s the reaction I get from her. “You are such a cheeseball.”

I lean over the console to press my lips to hers before I drop my voice. “You ready for your surprise, beautiful?”

It’s been a month since I came back from San Diego, but this plan’s been in motion for weeks before that.

“Yeah,” she replies, and I can see her eyes move behind the dark blindfold, hoping to get an early glimpse.

“Sit tight,” I tell her.

I make my way out of my driver’s side and around the front of her truck to her side. I take in a deep inhale of the beautiful summer breeze, urging my pulse to steady before I open the door and help her out.

I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her short frame to me as I guide her to the entrance.

Mala reaches out her hands, trying to feel what’s in front of her. They land on the metal bar of the fence and linger there, as if she’s trying to figure out what she’s just touched. “What . . . Dean, what is this?”

I pull the key out of my pocket and twist it into the lock before pulling the chain and dropping the entire thing to the ground. Unlatching the metal arm, I swing the door open, making it creak.

Mala’s mouth drops open, her head turning this way and that to try to glean the answer from the sounds and smells. “Wait . . .” She sniffs the air, tilting her head up. “Do I smell . . . vanilla and . . . and pumpkin? Are we . . .? Are we near the bakery?”

With my hand at the base of her spine, I urge her forward, closing the gate behind us. I keep her steady as we walk toward the little pergola. With exact timing, I tell her to step up and help her into the structure.

Before she can ask any more questions, I turn her toward me and cup her face with my hands. Mala tilts her head up, her luscious lips glistening with the pink gloss she rubbed over them earlier.

I lean down to speak into her ear and revel in the way she shivers in my arms. “Think you can solve every riddle, sprinkles? Well, I have one more for you to solve.”

I lay a kiss on her lips when I hear her take an audible breath and linger there a moment with my heart beating wildly inside my chest. “Some have long ones, some have short–”

“Dean,” she warns.

I chuckle, knowing exactly where her mind went. “Madonna and Prince don’t have one at all . . . but I’d love if you took mine. What is it?”

Her mouth opens and closes, and I know her mind is working a mile a minute. She repeats the riddle in a whispered mumble to herself before she shakes her head. “I . . . I don’t know.”

“You give up?”

She nods. “Yes, I give up. Now, tell me, Rufus! The suspense is killing me!”

I laugh again, pulling her so close, not even the breeze can get between us. I place my mouth on hers and murmur, “A last name.”

“A last . . .” Her breath catches before her hands lift, pulling off the blindfold from her eyes. She blinks, adjusting to the sunlight before her head tilts down, realizing I’ve gotten on my knee. She sees me holding the box open in front of her, and her fingers immediately find her mouth. “Dean . . .” she gasps.

“Mala, you’re my best friend, my every reason. You’ve taken my mind, body, and soul. Will you marry me, and do me the honor of taking my last name, too?”

Her eyes fill, a sob emerging from her lips before she gets down on her knees in front of me. She throws her arms around me and sobs into my neck, and I hold her to me, pressing my nose into her hair. “Fuck, baby. I’m really hoping those are happy tears. You’ve got me on tender hooks.”

Her sobs turn to laughs as her chest shakes against mine. She pulls away, cupping my cheeks before kissing me. “Yes.” Her voice cracks. “Yes, I’ll take your last name, and yes–fuck yes!–I’ll marry you.”

She gives me her hand, and I wiggle the small diamond ring over her finger before we both rise and I pick her up, kissing her as I spin her around, holding her against me. “I love you.”

“I love–” she gasps, looking around as if seeing where she is for the first time. Her smile wobbles in confusion and she steps off the pergola to stand on the overgrown grass. Her eyes lock on her bakery on the other side of the fence. “Dean?”

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