Hitched(39)

“Which one?”

“Uh…” I frown. It’s an unexpected question, but I’m game. “I don’t know. I guess I’d have to see them both up close to be sure.”

She circles her arm. “Then come on in and let’s unwrap them.”

I frown harder. “Unwrap them?”

“The sandwiches,” she says, cocking her head with a chuckle. “What did you think I was talking about?”

I grin harder, and my grin isn’t the only thing feeling hard. “The sandwiches. What else?”

I step past her, taking in the orange sleeping bag spread out in the middle of the floor, in between the two tasting bars and the two communal tables, where I have dreams of pouring drinks for as many as twelve people at a time if my license is ever approved.

“I set up an indoor picnic.” She bites her lip like she’s afraid I won’t like it. Or possibly like she’s afraid of something else. “It’s nice enough to have it outdoors, but fewer bugs in here, and I thought maybe we could open a bottle of wine to celebrate.”

I turn to her, relief and sadness rushing through me in equal measure. I’m glad Chewy’s safe, but I’m not ready for this marriage to be over, not by a long shot. “So Kyle signed the paperwork?”

Her brow furrows before she shakes her head with another laugh. “Oh, no. No, he didn’t. He’s still being a dick, and I’m pretty sure Dean was trying to take pictures through the kitchen curtains today with one of those long telephoto lenses. Guess he really wanted a snapshot of me sneaking a mid-day hot chocolate as reward for getting all the baby goats back to their mamas in one piece.”

“I’ll break that for him when we get home.” Anger strikes in my chest like a match catching. “Teach him an important lesson about respecting a woman’s privacy.”

She waves a hand through the air. “No, it’s fine. I’ll just get some thicker curtains in there. Ones that will stay closed.” She smiles. “I don’t want to think about Dean or Kyle. This is a celebration night. Rick is going to feed all the animals for me so we can linger as long as we want.”

“Sounds amazing.” I set the picnic basket down on the edge of the sleeping bag, admiring the fresh cut flowers she’s placed in a mason jar in the center. “This is beautiful, by the way.”

“It’s just a sleeping bag and some wildflowers. I didn’t have time for much more by the time I got done running errands.”

“It’s beautiful,” I insist, holding her gaze, hoping she knows I’m talking about so much more than the flowers.

She bites her lip again and glances away with a grin, and I can’t help feeling a little proud of myself for making her blush.

“So what are we celebrating if not alpaca freedom?” I ask, stepping closer.

Her gaze returns to mine, the light in her eyes enough to stop my heart. Thankfully, her smile restarts it again with a firm tha-dump as she says, “Why don’t you pour us a glass of wine and I’ll tell you.”

“All right.” I nod, clapping my hands together as I start toward the bar on the left. “What are you in the mood for? White, red, or pink? We can open something to start and I can always grab something else if we decide our first choice doesn’t pair well with the food.”

“Ooo la la, so fancy.” She slides up to the customer side of the bar as I step behind it, grabbing a wine key and placing it on the smooth wooden top. “Pink, I think. That’s the one in the little fridge, right?”

“Yeah. And good choice. Most people look down on a pink wine, but the new ones are floral and fruity without being too sweet.” I turn, reaching for the fridge handle. “And this one is…” My hand drops to my side and my words trail away as I see the framed paper sitting atop the fridge. I spin back to Hope, my stomach going tight. “Is that what I think it is?”

She smiles and claps her hands. “Surprise! You’re ready to open for business, Mr. O’Dell.”

“Oh my god.” I release the breath I’ve been holding for the past two months, as it began to look like I might never be approved to serve liquor as long as Gary was head of the Department of Revenue. Or, as I’d come to think of it lately, the Department of Fuck-With-You. “Thank you. So much.” I jog around the bar, pulling her into my arms for a hug.

“You’re so wel—” Her words become a squeak as I lift her off her feet, swinging her in a circle before setting her back down and pressing an impulsive kiss to her cheek.

“No, seriously,” I say in a softer voice as that electricity that’s never far away when we’re together crackles to life between us. “I appreciate this so much.”

“Well, you were my hero today. It only seemed right to return the favor.” She sways closer as I wrap my arms more tightly around her waist. “And I did make a few vows the other day.”

My heart pitter-patters again at the mention of our vows.

Does she mean it?

That our vows meant something to her?

Is she finally seeing me? Trusting me?

“Blake?” she whispers while I search her beautiful brown eyes with the soft honey flecks, looking for a deeper meaning to her words.

“Yes, my lady-hero?”

“Kiss me?”