Page 101 of Whiskey Proposal

“I feel like that in my whole life.” I roll my lips in. I didn’t mean to say that. Why’d it come out? Why do I feel like I can air my grungy laundry in front of everyone in Huckleberry Springs now?

“Not here,” Campbell says in a singsong voice. “These walls are wooden and we’re all invited inside.” She gives me a reassuring smile and twirls away with her beer.

I don’t want to leave. For once, I want to find out if what they’re saying is true. I want to be the one invited to the wedding, and I want to go. So maybe I’ll do that, and maybe I’ll enjoy being a married woman with a fantastic husband and a great group of friends for a little longer. Because I’m surrounded by people who act like they care for me. And so far they aren’t asking me to leave, just to stay. So maybe I will. For a little while longer.

Lane

The hood is up on the C10, but since Emerson walked in, I’ve forgotten about the mouse-chewed wiring.

She’s got her arms around herself. “You don’t think it’ll be weird?”

I cross to the sink and scrub my hands. I’m in coveralls and she’s in a new pair of robin’s-egg-blue overalls, and we look like a right pair of country folk. Cruz offered to take the last trip to Denver so I can catch up at the Foster House Gold site and get ready for Haven’s wedding. Durban and Campbell have the plans and the spirits covered, but now that Emerson’s going, the day has a whole new meaning.

The wedding is going to be a date, and after the weekend at the distillery, Emerson and I are on new ground. We’re not just having sex and eating a few meals together. Denver was like a weekend away. A tentative new beginning. I’ve sensed the shift even if she hasn’t said anything.

Does she want her own wedding someday? Something that’s more significant than showing up at the courthouse and filling out paperwork?

“It won’t be weird, Em.” I dry my hands off.

She leans against the front of the truck, and I dig my phone out and take a picture.

She scowls at me. “I’ve had more photos taken of me in the last week than in my entire life.”

“Good. Then I can change out the background on my phone.”

“I’m not your screen saver?” She pushes off the car and comes toward me.

I have the shot in place by the time she reaches me.

Indecision flickers in her expression when she sees it, like she’s not sure how to feel. “Uh-oh, it’s getting serious now.”

She might be kidding, but I’m not. “I am serious about you.” I tuck my phone away. “And I’ll wait until you realize that.”

Her brows knit together and fear fills her eyes. “What if you have to wait for a long time?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“What if I do?”

I would crowd toward her, but I don’t want to get her new clothes dirty. I unzip my coveralls, push them down, and step out of them. I leave her only to hang them up.

“Did you forget I have a private jet?” I say as I prowl back to her.

“You do?” she asks playfully. “I don’t recall.”

“I can refresh your memory.” I release the lever for the hood and carefully close it without hitting her. “I also have a pickup, and when needed, I have two feet that will find you.”

She swallows, her delicate throat working. I grasp her hips and press a kiss to the fluttering pulse at the base of her throat.

“You say that,” she says breathlessly. “But doing it is another thing.”

I tilt her chin up with two fingers. “You still doubt me?”

Her lower lip puffs out in a troubled line. “I can’t just shut it off.”

I pull her into me. I was two seconds away from stripping her down and taking her on top of the hood of the car. I’ve won her over with sex, but that head of hers is still full of doubt. Closing my arms around her, I just hold her. “I know. And I know you’re scared of me, and everyone else you let past those high walls of yours.”

“I sound like a child.”