I snickered. “Babe, I realize you’re an udder newbie…”
“Brooks. Allen. Johnson. All this day needed was cow puns.” He grabbed his soldering iron off a rolling metal cart and sighed. “Did you want something here, boyfriend?”
Yeah, I really, really wanted something here, more than I’d believed I could want anything, and I wanted it for the rest of our lives.
But what I said was, “You want help wrestling that udder? Or do you and Ethel need privacy?”
Mal shook his head and tried—really poorly, I might add—to hide his smile. “I just need two undistracted minutes. Can you grab the box of smaller sculptures on my workbench? I forgot to bring them yesterday.”
I saluted and made my way to the back of the barn, past all the junkyard treasures Mal found on his weekly trips to Diesel’s place, and grabbed the box Mal had set on the bench. It was larger and heavier than I’d thought—proof that Mal had been pretty damn inspired the last few weeks, and I couldn’t wait to see the crowd of visitors oohing and ahhing over his work.
As I picked up the box, I noticed one last sculpture Mal had forgotten—an adorable little cow that looked like it was wearing a Fighting Bovines football uniform, complete with a helmet. It even wore my old number 10. I smiled as I put that on top of the others in the box and thought for a minute that I should really buy that one for myself just to have it on my desk.
“Ready when you are,” I called to Mal as I set the box in the back seat.
“Two more minutes. You know, they just don’t make car parts as sturdily as they used to.”
“Are you going to lecture me about Milton Reeves again?” I demanded. “Because you know I love it when you get all stroppy about mufflers, but we’ve got a booth to open, Mr. Award-Winning Artist.”
Mal blushed and rolled his eyes as he always did when I mentioned the awards his reef piece had won… just like he’d rolled his eyes when my mom framed the write-up in the Tennessean about the dragon sculpture made of recycled toys he’d donated to the Children’s Hospital in Nashville last year… and the same way he’d rolled his eyes when Ava had made him her “bride’s man” before she and Paul tied the knot at the Licking Thicket community church last Valentine’s Day, but deep down I knew he liked it. More even than the awards, my man had needed a family and a town who celebrated his successes with him. And now he had us.
I helped him move Ethel onto the truck, and we headed down to the town square. We pulled in five minutes before it opened.
“Ha! Luck was on our side,” I informed him… a second before Diesel Church pulled in beside us and gave Mal a chin-lift through the window.
I bit back an annoyed growl. It wasn’t that I thought the man had been lying in wait, or whatever… it was just that I wouldn’t put it past him either.
Mal waved hello, then shifted the truck into Park, and looked over at me. Whatever expression I wore made him laugh out loud. He leaned over the console and grabbed my chin, pulling me in for a kiss. “Remember what I told you a year ago? There’s only one grumpy giant I’m in love with, and it’s not Diesel Church.”
“There’s always Paris,” I reminded Mal as I took my seatbelt off. “Miami.”
“Home,” Mal repeated, tossing me a wink before he jumped down from the truck.
Diesel waited by the tailgate to help us unload the truck, and Mal greeted him with a big hug that was no doubt meant to show me where I could stow my attitude. But then, because he was Mal, as soon as he broke the hug, he wrapped his arm around my waist and stuck his hand in my back pocket in a subtly claiming gesture of his own that reminded me I would never, ever get bored with this man or doubt how important I was to him.
“Hey, what’s that lump in your pocket?” Mal asked, frowning. “It feels like…”
Damn it.
“Wow, hey, let’s unload the truck, huh?” I said, pulling away. “We are running late. My mom is gonna be so upset, gosh darn it!”
Mal was immediately distracted.
Diesel jumped up in the bed of the truck and helped lift Ethel down, and he and I carried her to Mal’s tent while Mal followed with the box of smaller sculptures.
“Brooks!” Ava exclaimed, popping up seemingly out of nowhere to give me a fast, tight hug. She was dressed in a hot pink dress and carried a matching clipboard. “Where have you been? The Beautification Corps needs you to sign this to approve the flowers for the dance!” She shoved her clipboard at me and dragged me off to one side of the tent, then demanded in a whisper, “Is it done? Are you engaged?”