Page 34 of Trigger Happy

“Say something,” he cuts out in a whisper. “People are staring.”

I shake my head. “Sorry. What?”

“Will. You. Marry. Me?” he punctuates with a tense jaw.

My eyes bounce from the gray-haired lady with happy tears in her eyes to the two teenage girls with their hands over their hearts. “Oh, um, yes. I will. Thanks. And I get those beef jerky sticks from Trader Joe’s.”

He slips the opal ring onto my finger and his thumb brushes over my knuckle with a far gentler touch than I thought a man with so many scars capable of. I still can’t believe he bought me an actual ring. The farmers market explodes into applause and little whoops, but all I can think is, what now?

“Kiss him, sweetheart!” Stan hollers with the baby goat tucked under his armpit.

My stomach swishes and swirls. Lawton looks as stunned as I feel. This started as a way to push him over the edge, but now I’m the one in free fall. He leans forward and gives me a polite, chaste kiss on the cheek.

“What are ya? Siblings?” Stan shouts. “Give her a real kiss, dammit!”

Lawton’s jaw works, then he squeezes his eyes tight and when they open, his sole focus is on me. He cradles my face between his massive hands, swipes one thumb over my cheekbone, and angles my head up to his mouth.

I lightly gasp because that’s my kiss—the one I described to him.

One hand slides down the small of my back, dragging me closer until our bodies are flush against each other. My heart pounds in my ears. He presses his lips to mine softly. It’s not flashy. There’s no tongue, no movement, but my hands still twist in his hair. A low, pained sound still dredges its way up Lawton’s throat.

For a moment, I’m just a woman kissing a man. There are no fugitive parents, no bodies buried. I can almost imagine coming home to a white, no, sage, cottage with magenta bougainvillea in the windowsills and a Home Sweet Home doormat.

But then he suddenly rips himself away, and the fantasy poofs.

The crowd erupts in applause. Someone whoops. There’s a whistle.

Lawton’s chest is heaving, and he’s staring at my lips like they betrayed him. I can’t seem to take in a deep enough breath either as I say, “For a man who claims he doesn’t know how to woo women, you’re sure good at faking it.”

“I said I don’t woo women, not that I didn’t know how.” He brushes his bottom lip with his thumb, but then his eyes harden. “But don’t get any ideas, Chastain. That was for Stan, not you.”

That burning heat from before is snuffed out in an instant. I step back to smooth my jean skirt. “Well, I think Stan wanted a little more tongue, then.”

Lawton frowns, opens his mouth, but then a familiar, bright voice cracks through the farmers market.

“Sophie?”

Bobbi.

17Sabrina

Bobbi and Arch are watching us with matching smiles, holding a bag of fresh apples. She tilts her head, curls cascading over one shoulder like liquid sunshine. Seriously, whose hair is that luscious? “Did you just… propose? I thought you were already married?”

I start running through every contingency plan I’ve thought up, but I can’t remember a single one. And now I’m sweating. What do I say? This is the whole reason I plan.

Lawton jumps in, saving me from blurting out some terrible ad-lib. “Ah, we’re just messin’ around. I like to relive our proposal sometimes. Keeps the spark alive, you know? We don’t want to suffer from that seven-year itch.”

“Yes,” I chirp, because apparently I chirp now. “I can be very, um… itchy.”

Lawton presses his lips together.

After a moment of sweltering silence, Bobbi gushes, “Oh, good. I thought you lied on your questionnaire to get the discounted couple rate at the barn, which, no judgment, but I couldn’t in good faith honor the discount if I knew you weren’t a couple.” She points to herself. “Rule follower, here. It’s one of my fatal flaws. I even reread the safety manuals on planes.”

“Don’t travel to the city with this one, either,” Arch says, tightening the bun at the nape of his neck as he nods to her. “She’ll wait for every crosswalk to give the green light before going, even if it’s a deserted alley.”

“Sorry I value my life,” she huffs, grinning. “We can’t all have the luxury of jaywalking. Have you seen you? A taxi would bounce right off your chest.”

He wraps her up in his arms. “You like it.”