Page 57 of Whiskey Proposal

Her jaw goes slack. “You do?”

I nod. “Buy some goats, rescue a week’s worth of Prescott’s posts, I don’t care. You, and that freshly fucked hair, and these pajamas that fill my head with very naughty ideas, aren’t going to scare me away.”

With each declaration, her jaw drops farther. “How can you— What do you— Freshly fucked?”

I deliberately take my time stroking my gaze over the messy halo around her head. “That’s all it makes me think of. Want me to tell you what goes through my mind when you wear those overalls?”

“That I look frumpy and ugly?” She sounds almost hopeful.

“Go ahead and find a burlap sack to wear. I’ll show you exactly what it does to me.”

She studies me. Her breathing is shallow, and there’s some concern she might cry. “Why go through the effort?”

“I’ve been an adult since I was a teen. I was the most responsible person in the house since before I was ten. I know what I want, Emerson, and as soon as Hutch asked me to look you up, I wanted you.”

There’s a struggle in her eyes. She doesn’t want to believe me, but I’ve never lied to her. Lying hasn’t been the issue. People have been too blunt with her. Too callous. They’ve shown her who they are, and she’s believed them. It’s eroded her trust until she has none when it comes to me.

I’ll work on that.

She lifts a shoulder. “You didn’t do anything about it.”

Some days it was tempting. “How would that go? ‘Hey, I’m Lane, your dad’s neighbor. He showed me your picture, and I want to get to know you.’ You would’ve slammed the door in my face.” She doesn’t argue. “Then what would I have told your dad? That you’ll definitely never be back because of me? Like I said before, I can be patient. And here you are.”

The eye twitch returns. She’s not used to good things landing in her lap, and she needs time.

I push away. “Eat up, or your girls are going to mob me when I leave for work.” I go back around the table and slide into my seat. “They were already stalking me when I was walking back from the barn.”

Her gaze stays on me for a few moments. If she leaves the table, then the road in front of us will get even longer. But if she stays? Then maybe I have a chance of showing her that I’m different from the other fuckers who’ve been cavalier with her heart.

A small exhale leaves her, then she picks up her fork and starts eating.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Emerson

I like the two-ponytail look, so I’ve kept it. I also like the overalls, and I took the second old pair I found with worn hems and cut them off. When I show up at Brooks’s house in the pickup, he does a double take. When I hop out, he does a triple take.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

My insecurity roars back. Is it that bad? Lane gives me smoldering stares. Have I convinced myself I look good when I live with a guy who has blue balls? “What’s wrong with it?”

He shoots me a perplexed look. “Nothing. Where are the designer clothes?”

“Discount designer.”

“Still designer. How’s the pickup running?”

“Good. It’s fun to drive.” I love it every time I hop in. I get flashbacks of standing next to Dad and shifting when he told me to.

“Auntie Em!” Hillary flies into my side like it’s been a year since she’s seen me. “How many eggs have you gotten so far?”

“A dozen.”

“Are they yummy?”

All I see are intense blue eyes across the table when I eat them. “Delicious.”

“I like your hair.”