It's a Wonderful Tangled Christmas Carol (Tangled, #4.5) (20)

Cuddling midair would be awesome. Screwing midair would be so much more awesome.

But . . . making sure we don’t crash and die takes precedence.

Unfortunately.



Kate is wrapped around me, oohing and ahhing at the stunning spectacle. An hour later, we arrive at our destination—a lavish field of green. After a few bumps, we set down gently, and I turn off the balloon’s burner. Mark’s employees grasp the basket and tie it down.

“Thanks, fellas,” I call, as I help Kate step onto solid earth.

“Wow.” Kate shakes her head as we walk up the hill. “How are you ever going to top that?”

I chuckle huskily. “I can think of a few ways.” I pull her by the hand onto a dirt path that leads into the forest. “The day’s not over yet.”

Her voice is high-pitched when she asks, “There’s more?”

“Shit, yeah.”

I’ve arranged for a limo to pick us up in a few hours, not too far from our next stop. Then we’ll spend the night at a “quaint” bed-and-breakfast. At least, my sister said it’s quaint—though I don’t understand the B and B attraction. It’s weird—staying in a stranger’s house, sharing a bathroom with people I don’t know from a frigging hole in the wall. But . . . I figured Kate would enjoy it, and this night is all about her.

After walking through the woods for five minutes, she presses, “Where are we going? Is this like a Little Red Riding Hood, Well-Hung Big Bad Wolf kind of thing?”

Kate and I have been experimenting with role-play lately. You have got to try it.

I put my arm around her, grinning. “No, but we’ll add that to the list. You in a slutty Red Riding Hood costume would be f*cking hot.”

The last leg of the trail is all uphill. Kate’s breathing is heavy as we step out of the woods into a clearing that overlooks a swath of vibrant swells and valleys. It’s a kaleidoscope of greens, browns, oranges and reds—almost as stunning as the views from the balloon basket.

“We’re here,” I announce.

She stops in her tracks and gasps. Laid out just a few feet away is a thick cashmere blanket, illuminated by flickering LED candelabras at the four corners. A bottle of champagne chills in a silver ice bucket; there are two place settings with delicate china, crystal flutes and gleaming silverware; and gourmet sandwiches and chocolate-covered strawberries are hidden in a large antique picnic basket. Surrounding the display are stone planters, which overflow with fragrant white gardenias.

“Oh my . . .” Kate is literally speechless.

I mentally pat my own f*cking back.

We stand hand in hand next to the blanket. The candlelight glows in Kate’s eyes as she looks over the spread. “I’m so lucky,” she whispers, in a voice heavy with gratitude.

I turn her toward me. “I won’t argue with that, but which good fortune are you thinking about specifically?”

Her hands slide up over my shoulders, encircling my neck. Her head tilts delicately as she regards me, total devotion on her face. “Do you remember The Notebook?”

With a chuckle, I nod.

“If that were to happen to me—if for some reason I forgot everything else . . . I would still remember you. How it feels to be loved by you. I’m the luckiest woman in the world, because I’m the only one who gets to say ‘Drew Evans is in love with me.’”

I cup her jaw, holding her precious face in both hands. “You’re the only one who ever will.”

Before I can utter another word, Kate rises on her toes and kisses me. Unhurriedly, she worships my mouth with her own, conveying her veneration with every deliberate brush of her tongue.

And . . . and I just can’t f*cking wait anymore. With my lips against hers, the words bubble up from my chest. A rough, eager plea.

“Marry me, Kate.”

For a second, she doesn’t move. I feel her breath against my chin as she digests the words. Slowly, she leans back to look into my eyes, her face blank—staring—as if she’s not sure she heard what she thinks she just heard.

“What?” she asks softly.

“I . . . I had this whole speech, all the reasons we should get married. But the only reason that matters is—I love you. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved—the only one I want to—for the rest of our lives.”

Holding her gaze, I sink down on one bended knee and take the ring box from my pocket. “We already have a life together, but I want to make it official. I want to grow old next to you, I want to know you’ll be there to smack my hand when I’m a dirty old man and try to cop a feel.”

The corners of her mouth arch up into a smile.

“If you’re the luckiest woman in the world because I love you,” I continue, “then I’d be the most blessed son of a bitch in the universe if I get to be your husband.”

I open the box, revealing the impeccable two-carat princess-cut diamond, encased in an elegant platinum band. I was tempted to go bigger—flashier—but this is Kate. It had to be something she’d love—a ring she’d gaze at adoringly on her hand. Beautiful, simple, flawless—like her.

Kate’s eyes dance between the ring and my face. She doesn’t cry, and I’m relieved. I want her laughter, her moans, her gasps—not her tears. Instead, she smiles, and it’s like the sunrise, when those first soft shades of light peek out from the horizon—new and stunning and full of possibilities.