Ginger's Heart (A Modern Fairytale, #3)(146)

He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath, but as he released it in a whoosh, he stalked into the bathroom, placed his hands on her knees, and spread them gently so he could stand between them.

“Are you serious, or are you teasin’ me?”

He’d asked her at least once a week since January. Eight months. Thirty-two weeks. And she’d always said “Not yet” or “Someday” or “Soon.”

She straightened up, pressing her naked breasts to his chest and looking up into his eyes. “I’m serious. I’m ready. I want to move in with you.”

His lips dropped to hers at the same time his arms encircled her, lifting her and carrying her back to bed to show her how much it meant to him that she was ready to take this next step.

That had been a few weeks ago, and she was mostly moved in at this point. Today they would pick up the last of her things and turn the cottage keys back to her parents, and she’d move in with Cain for good.

Which made today one of the best days of his life for many reasons—some still to come.

“Make a wish, Ginger,” said her mother. “The candles are meltin’.”

“They already came true,” she said, smiling up at Cain, a million promises in her deep brown eyes.

“Make a wish anyway,” said Ranger, gesturing to the cake and grinning at his daughter.

She took a deep breath and blew them out, and her parents, Cain, and Klaus clapped merrily.

“Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag!” exclaimed Klaus, who’d given Ginger a horse that he’d carved from a bright white piece of balsa. It was a prancing Lipizzan, of course, and it sat proudly at Ginger’s place now, waiting for a bite of her cake.

“Danke, Klaus,” she said, smiling across the table at Cain’s father.

It had taken some convincing for Miz Magnolia to break down the high social barrier she’d built between the McHuids and the Wolframs, but Ranger’s full support of Ginger and Cain’s relationship had helped. And little by little, Ginger’s mother seemed to accept that the Wolframs, for better or worse, were a part of her life, and it would be best to accept them, on behalf of her husband and daughter, than fight them all.

For his part, Cain still wasn’t Miz Magnolia’s biggest fan, but she was gentler now than she’d ever been, sobered by the recent losses of Woodman and her mother-in-law, and he could even imagine a day when there was a true and lasting peace between them. Someday.

An hour later, after cake and Champagne, Ginger and Cain bid good-bye to their parents, and Cain promised to drop off his father’s truck tomorrow. The three parents waved from the front porch as they pulled away, headed down the driveway. But just before leaving McHuid’s, Cain turned left, trundling down the gravel road and parking in front of the barn.

He cut the engine and faced Ginger, who looked at him with surprise.

“It’s your birthday,” he said, gesturing to the barn with his chin. “Don’t you want to jump?”

She laughed. “I think I’m a little old for that, don’t you?”

“Don’t trust me to catch you, huh?” He got out of the car, his hands sweating as he neared the barn, where he waited for her to join him.

A moment later he heard her door open and her feet hit the ground. “You’re not serious, are you? I’m liable to break more than my arm.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, turning back, uncertain if the wave of emotion he felt was relief or disappointment.

“Aw, wait!” she said, grinning at him. “But if you don’t catch me, you’re in big trouble!” she yelled, sprinting into the barn and up the ladder to the loft.

His heart started racing and his mouth went dry.

Oh, f*ck. This is happening.

He reached into his back pocket for the small black velvet box that held a simple platinum ring capped with a 1.25-karat diamond. Princess-cut, of course.

Taking a deep breath, he dropped to one knee, his eyes fixed on the hayloft door, remembering all the times he’d caught her, remembering their first kiss, remembering Woodman and birthdays and happy times and Ginger’s smile. And then . . .

She was there.

“Are you ready? Now, don’t you drop— Cain!”

Her mouth opened, and she covered it with her hands, her eyes filling with tears.

“I got a question to ask you, princess,” he said, grinning up at her, holding up the open box.

“Oh my God!” she cried, the words muffled under her hands.

“You want to come back down here, or you want me to come up there?”

“I can’t move,” she said, blinking her eyes furiously.

“Then I’m comin’ up.” He snapped the box shut, jumped up, and ran into the barn. Up the ladder, into the loft, he didn’t stop until he was about a foot from her. “Different kind of jump this year,” he said, bending down on one knee and opening up the box again.

She took a step toward him, and he could see she was crying, tears streaming down her face, her hands still covering her mouth.

“Come here, princess.”

“Cain,” she whimpered.

“Come on, now,” he said, smiling up at her.

She took a step toward him, then another, sobbing once before dropping her hands. And she was smiling. Crying, yes. But smiling. And any worry left in his heart quickly lifted as he stared up into the eyes of the woman he’d loved since he was fifteen years old.