Page 113 of Butter My Biscuit

“Grace and I”—I shake my head—“we’re just friends. There is nothing going on between us.”

Not anymore.

A few steps, and her arms are snaked around my waist. “We’re going to be so good together, like we used to be,” she says, kissing my neck, nibbling on my ear, trying to steal my attention away and it works. “I believe in us.”

“Yes,” I say, wishing I could erase this past weekend from my memory.

“So, I have all of you?” she whispers against my chest.

“Yes,” I say, pulling her into my arms, knowing we haven’t had sex since last year when we hooked up in Houston.

* * *

A week later, Stephanie and I sit on the back porch, drinking coffee in our robes.

The stars are still out, and as we stare up at them, I turn to her, knowing nothing is going to change. “Will you marry me?”

“You mean it?” she asks.

“Be right back.”

I stand and rush to the front, where my truck is parked. Then, I grab the velvety box. As she’s sitting in the rocking chair, looking up at me, I drop down to one knee.

“Steph. Stephie. Stephanie.” I clear my throat, getting into position on my knee. “Will you marry me?”

She falls forward, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I was hoping we still had a chance.”

“We always did,” I say.

She pushes my back down onto the porch and slides her mouth against mine.

“Yes, I’ll marry you. I’m so relieved. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” I tuck loose hair behind her ear before she kisses me again.

* * *

On the way back from town after grabbing some doughnuts, I stop by the vet clinic. Cash’s truck is parked outside, and the lights are on inside. Since it’s still dark, it glows like a beacon in the early morning. The side door is unlocked, and I walk in to where he’s sitting at a desk, rustling through papers.

“What are you doing here so early?” I ask, looking up at the clock and it’s just past five.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he admits. “So, I thought I’d get started organizing shit to get ready for opening. Hey, thanks for proposing to Stephanie. I owe you a drink with the five hundred dollars I won from Beckett.”

I burst into laughter. “Good. I’m glad you were the one who got the money. But also, how’d you know I’d choose Stephanie?”

He gives me a look. “I knew at the bar that night. Been there, dude. The good guy doesn’t always win, and that’s fine. Stephanie is really into you—always has been. Plus, she’s cute.”

“Well, shit, I’m glad I put a ring on her finger so you didn’t steal her away.”

He chuckles. “Nah. Blondes aren’t really my thing.”

I raise a brow. “Little brunettes with the last name Valentine your thing?”

He glares at me. “What the fuck? No.”

“Okay, just making sure I don’t need to shove your dick down your throat,” I playfully warn. “Anyway, you want some doughnuts?”

“Hell yeah,” he tells me and follows me to my truck, where I open the box and he snags two.

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