Page 104 of Whiskey Proposal

Log mansion opulence surrounds me. Timber and animal heads make up most of the decor, and the furniture blends right in with its upholstered wooden beams. The space opens into a large sitting area with a stone fireplace on the far side. A desk is tucked into the side wall and doesn’t make the inside feel less like home. An antler chandelier hangs over the desk.

I’m at the Hawthorne Guest Ranch, and I’m not here as an employee. When I was younger, I assumed I’d get a beater of a car and find work here to make some money so I could fly out of city limits.

Do they need someone on their marketing team?

That would mean I was staying.

Am I?

I wouldn’t have to hustle so hard when I’m not paying rent. There’s a nice office in Lane’s house, and I can go out on my breaks and sit with my chickens. I could get goats.

A tiny stabbing sensation flares around my ribs. I’m going to miss those birds if I return to Denver.

We pass through a large room that’s bustling with staff and guests. I recognize some people from around town. The couple that owns the gas station, and a guy about my age whose family owns the river tour company.

Campbell rounds a corner and a smile spreads across her face. “Hey, you’re here. Prescott and Haven are in the bar for the toast. I’ve gotta find Clem so we have the whole Foster House crew.”

She rushes off. Lane curls his fingers through mine and leads the way.

The bar is more enclosed than the great room. Bottles of all sorts line the back wall. Sconces that look like lanterns add to the ambience.

“Hey!” Jamison rushes toward us. She’s wearing a yellow dress that resembles her sister’s pink one. “There are wedding favors for you on the bar. When Campbell gets back with Clem, we’ll toast.” She gives me a half hug. “So glad to see you.”

She rushes off with a grin, and I’m left stunned. Then Prescott rushes over, gorgeous and radiant in her white ball gown.

The material brushes my legs as she hugs me. Her cleavage is more impressive than the volume of her skirts. She’s a princess. “Emerson! I’m so happy you’re here. I bet Lane’s not going to put himself to work with you around.”

“It’s not why she invited you,” Lane clarifies as Prescott switches her hug to him.

Haven appears at his bride’s side, and his arm goes automatically around her waist. “She’s been talking about you since the bachelorette party. Thanks for coming.”

The sincerity in his voice conveys more than that, and I get it. Prescott said she understood being an outsider. The thought of no one showing up for her on one of the biggest days of her life has to be terrifying.

It almost makes me glad that I was surprised with a marriage, and that it was just me, my brother, and Lane.

Almost.

What would I plan for a wedding ceremony? Would I have it at the coveted and expensive Hawthorne Guest Ranch? Could I have little Foster House Gold wedding favor bottles and a toast before we all go out for the ceremony?

The yearning is staggering, and I rub at my sternum.

Lane puts a small bottle of sour-cherry-infused gin in my hand.

My mind spins the whole time Haven and Prescott each say their piece, welcoming us. Cheers vibrate the floor, and I take a drink. The heat soothes my nerves and fills the emptiness fighting to enlarge a hole in my chest.

“What do you think?” Lane asks.

I think I want all this. I think I want to stay. I think I want my home and my career in Huckleberry Springs. All I have to do is tell Lane. He’ll make it happen.

Yet the words stick in my throat. Today isn’t my day. It’s about Prescott and Haven. Maybe that’s a copout, but I need a little more time. I have to be sure. Lane is worth the risk, but I have to be sure I am too.

Lane

The wedding ceremony was simple but beautiful. The sky is darkening, but the fairy lights are on around the pavilion. Bug screens have been erected, and we’re in a private oasis in the middle of the rolling hills around the Hawthorne ranch.

I’m standing with Myles and Wynter. Mae’s oldest son, Tate, is updating us on his kids and how they’re starting school soon. Emerson’s next to me, and I have my hand on her waist.

Having her here has been the most natural thing in the world.