Burn It Up(119)

“Must be.” She felt shy, but behind that, elated. And confused about where she stood, but also hopeful, and undeniably free of so much pain and guilt and—

“I still care about you,” he said firmly. “I still want you. Now, you don’t need to tell me tomorrow or next week or even next year that you know how you feel, where you stand, but if you ever decide that maybe you still feel that way for me . . .”

Her smile faltered, trembling under the weight of everything she felt. “I won’t tell you tomorrow,” she said.

“And that’s fine. Like I said—”

“I can tell you right now.”

He stared at her for a long moment, blinked once, twice. And then he exploded her brain.

“Marry me,” he said.

“What?”

“Marry me, Abilene or Allison or whatever the f*ck I should call you. Tomorrow or in five years—I don’t care when, just say you will.”

She couldn’t say that. Couldn’t say that or any other thing—she was too shocked.

“Nothing’s going to change how I feel about you. Not your secrets or me going crazy, not anything. I’ll ask you again one year from now, if you want.”

“I think maybe you should.” If only because she might need that long to be sure she wasn’t dreaming.

“I will, then. In the meantime, keep thinking about that house. Imagine every last thing about it, because someday you and me are going to find that exact place and make it just how you want.”

Her shock softened in a breath, so touched by those words, and to realize that this man knew her better than anyone else on the planet.

“I can tell you my answer now,” she blurted. “It’s yes.”

He nodded, looking bewildered but pleased. “Okay, good. That’ll take the edge off the suspense.”

“Good,” she agreed.

A pause. “What kind of a ring do you want?”

“God, I don’t know. Something simple. Something silver. I don’t need a diamond.”

“How do you want me to propose?” he asked. “A year from now?”

“Exactly like this.”

“You sure? Because this is pretty sloppy and messed up, and I’m starting to think I should have just kept my mouth shut.”

“Nothing about you and me has ever looked quite like it was supposed to.”

“That’s true enough.”

“So I don’t care how you propose. I don’t even care if you ever do. I only want to be with you again, for real. To see if this can work.”

“C’mere.”

She let him tip the both of them onto their sides, facing, legs locking. She toyed with the buttons of his shirt and his palm was warm on her waist. And his eyes were there, right there.

“Move in with me,” he said.

She nodded. That much, she could promise. “Okay.”

“My apartment’s not your dream house, but we could make it into something special, something for now. Make a home out of it.”

“You okay with curtains?”

“I f*cking love curtains.”

She laughed, rubbed his chest. “Good. It’s not a home without curtains.”

“It’s not a home at all, yet. But it will be, if you’ll show me what that looks like.”

“Gladly.” And she kissed him, slow and soft, watching a smile bloom on those lips as she pulled away.

“It’s going to be a long, rough spring,” he whispered. “With everything that’s just happened, and with everything that’s going to be changing around the bar. But let’s make our place somewhere calm to escape to at the end of the day, okay?”

“I’d like that.”

“And we’ll throw ourselves a little party, just you and me and Mercy. It doesn’t feel like a time to celebrate, but it seems like we ought to do something to mark the fact that I’ve got a future, and that you’re in control of things with your ex. A lot’s f*cked-up right now, but those are two good things. Too good to just let go by.”

“I’d like that, too.”

He brought his face close, rubbing their noses together, brushing his mouth softly against hers. “Maybe it doesn’t need saying, or maybe I should have said it before I f*cking proposed, but I love you. You and the baby, both. You need to know that.”

She pursed her quivering lips and nodded. “You didn’t need to say. You’ve told me a hundred times, with your actions.”

“Well, now I’m telling you out loud.”

She swallowed, found her breath. “I love you, too.” Every ounce of him. Every cuss, every awful mistake. People were made of both light and dark, and you didn’t get to love the good without first forgiving the bad. She knew that now.

“How about we get the cars packed back up?” he asked. “Seeing as how you’ve decided to move, yet again.”

She smiled, wide and pure and open. “We can do that.”

“All right, then.” He stood from the bed and offered a hand, pulling her to her feet. “Let’s get you home, honey.”





Start at the beginning of the scorching-hot Desert Dogs series by Cara McKenna.

LAY IT DOWN