Play It Safe(123)

But regardless of Gray’s late afternoon absence, the day had been great. First, I started it with Gray. Second, he made me breakfast (chocolate chip pancakes and my man was a master at pancakes). Third, a FedEx package came with a pair of exquisite, eight hundred dollar designer pumps (a gift from Lash) and a bottle of the aforementioned expensive perfume (a gift from Brutus) which was followed by me talking to them on the phone (Lash, for an hour, Brutus for five minutes, not unusual, either of them).

Apparently, I’d continue to be stocked up on the finer things in life even when that life was on a ranch. I talked to them often, Lash several times a week. Brutus, less frequently but I checked in and so did he. I should have known they’d be generous, it was who they were and the loved me, but still, it was a pleasant surprise.

Their gifts were nice. They were sweet. And they were pure Lash and Brutus.

Janie had also popped by to give me a present that was from her, Danny, Gene, Barry and even Peg (yes, Peg, where she got her money, I had no clue but she’d given some to the present for me). It was a pair of fawn suede, kickass cowboy boots, the first pair I’d owned since going the way of the Vegas showgirl and better than any I’d ever had even when they were nearly all I used to wear.

I loved them.

And now I had Gray and Jenkins and then we’d be home and I’d just have Gray.

It was the best birthday ever.

And I didn’t know it, but it was about to get better.

* * * * *

I was screwing around in the kitchen, killing time waiting for Gray by getting the coffee ready so I could just flip the switch in the morning when I heard, “Told you, bears repeating, like that dress, dollface.”

I turned and saw Gray leaning shoulder to doorjamb wearing his dark blue suit. He also had on a light blue shirt that did great things for a tan he still had seeing as, even in October, he spent most of his time outside.

He looked beautiful.

“Thanks, baby,” I replied on a smile then I turned back and flipped the door to the coffeemaker closed.

Then I moved to approach him but stopped when Gray ordered, “Stay right there, Ivey.”

I blinked then I stared and when I did I noticed his gaze was intent and not the kind of intent that said he really liked my dress.

A different kind of intent.

An intent that made my heart beat faster.

I would know why when he told me casually, “Went to see my Mom today.”

My hand moved out to hold onto the counter but otherwise I didn’t move. It had been months since Norrie’s visit. Months. I steered clear of her for Gray (even though I wanted to get to know her) and Gray had steered clear of her for his own reasons that I let be.

Now, he’d gone to see her.

Wow.

Gray kept talking.

“She had somethin’ belongs to Codys, I wanted it back. We talked awhile. She’s comin’ to lunch on Sunday after church. That cool with you?”

Was that cool with me?

Was he crazy?

“Yes,” I forced out on a wheeze, shocked, pleased and cautiously happy because I couldn’t tell if Gray was or if he was doing this for me.

Gray said no more.

I didn’t either nor did I move and I also found it hard to breathe.

Finally, he spoke and when he did, it was to whisper, “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Oh God.

My belly melted.

“Gray,” I whispered back.

“In that getup, in your jeans and tees, in your bikini on the lawnmower, when I open my eyes in the morning and see you next to me, anytime I see you, that’s what I think. First thing that comes to mind. Anytime. Every time.”

I swallowed, held onto the counter and said nothing; just let his words rush warm and sweet through me.

Then he gave me, a woman who once had nothing but a bag full of stuff, not much of it good, but who, standing there in that kitchen thought she had everything, the world.

“I love you, Ivey, and you got a name you gave yourself that means somethin’ to you but I still want you to take mine.”

Oh God.

Oh God.

Oh God.

Tears filled my eyes.

“You want that, baby?” he whispered.

Instantly, unable to speak, I nodded.

And just as instantly, he walked across the kitchen and when he arrived at me, he took my left hand, lifted it and slid an old-fashioned diamond ring on my ring finger. It was large, a rounded off, wide rectangle surrounded by smaller diamonds all of this on a simple, thin white gold band.

It was old. It was Cody. It was beautiful. It was perfect.

“My Mom wore that ring. My Gran wore it too. And so did my great-Gran. Took it to Lazar’s in town, they cleaned it, said it’s in good repair,” he muttered, finishing, “and it fits.”

It did. And thank God it did because I was never taking it off.

Not ever.

Except, of course, when he slid on the wedding band that would go under it.

His fingers folded around mine and he lifted my hand to his mouth, bending his neck and touching his lips to my finger above the ring while I watched, a tear sliding down my cheek.

Then he pulled my hand to his chest and flattened it there.

“It’s old, darlin’, not new, not fancy but there it is.” His thumb tweaked my ring. “Happy birthday.”

I ripped my hand from his and threw my arms around his shoulders. Then I went up on tiptoe as the fingers of one hand drove into his hair pulling his head down to me and I kissed him. It was wet and not just because my tongue danced with his but because my tears slid to our lips.