“Yeah, but I think I got used to it. I definitely didn’t believe I’d ever be happy, so I was just shooting for a life that wouldn’t be a constant struggle.”
I never really saw that in Dean, but now I get it—why he never flirted back or let people in. He was too focused on digging himself out of a hole he didn’t want to be in. He wanted something better.
“And now?” I ask. “How do you feel?”
He turns his head, and the look in his eyes makes goosebumps explode all over my skin. “I feel…fucking wonderful, but I know it’s not just because I played a good game of football. Which I did.” He flashes a gloating grin.
Good for him. He’s worked hard and should enjoy his success. “You really looked happy on the field tonight.”
“Yeah, but here’s the thing: If you asked me to choose between football or you guys, I’d pick you two. Because I know I can’t be happy, really happy, unless you’re both in my life.”
“I’m not asking you to choose.”
“I know.”
“So then?” I’m confused.
“I want it all, but only if you do, too. Your all. My all. Us all.”
I’m still confused. “All what?”
He takes my hand. “You have a dream of running your own winery; I have my dream of playing pro and finishing college. Somewhere in the middle of all that is us and a baby that wasn’t part of the plan. But now that I have her, I’ll do anything for her. Just like I’d do anything for you.”
His words melt my insides. I’ll never get used to hearing this big, jacked, fiercely masculine guy speak with so much strength and confidence while also being vulnerable. I have no idea how he pulls it off, but he does. It’s incredibly sexy.
“I would do anything for you, too, Dean. I’d do anything for you both, which is totally insane given how fast everything’s happened.” We haven’t even had sex yet. “But I know in my heart how special you guys are. So tell me what you want.”
“I want us to make a plan.”
“A plan?”
“Yeah. I want us to make a plan. Together. But the goal has to be living the happiest life we can. As a family.”
I think I’m following what he’s saying, but I can tell this is new territory for him. He’s trying to open up.
I inhale slowly and choose my words carefully. This is important, and I don’t want to mess it up. “I think what you’re getting at is that I love you and you love me, and you don’t want either of us to give up our dreams while we raise that beautiful little baby together. Am I right?”
He nods.
“Okay. Sounds good,” I say.
“You sure?” He sounds shocked.
“Yeah. What’s the big deal? We tackle it as a team.” If I’ve learned anything this week, Dean and I make a great team. We’ve both helped each other move past some pretty ugly obstacles. And don’t get me started about our chemistry. We’ve got more than I can take, and then some.
“But,” he says, “I’ll have classes, and you’ll have work, then—”
“Dean, we got this. Let’s just…make it happen.”
His jaw drops. “That’s my line.”
I shrug. “Now it’s our line.”
He leans into me and presses his mouth to mine. I savor the feel of his warm lips and tongue dancing against mine. We’ve kissed before, but not like this. Not with so much connection and passion. The trust between us has opened up a whole new world.
I slide my hand to his short beard, enjoying the rough texture under my fingertips, and gaze into his eyes. I can’t believe this is my guy. My person. I don’t think I could have asked for a hotter mess of awesome man.
“I just need you to say it.” I grin.
“Say what? That if you ever put your life at risk like that again, I’ll come after you with a whisk?”
Ugh. Dean. The jokes. “Your timing needs work.”
“Okay. Point taken.” His expression turns serious. “What if I said that I love you, I am so thankful you gave me and Fia a chance to be a part of your life, and I’d really like to marry you. Doesn’t have to be right away, but whenever you’re ready. How’s that?”
My eyes tear up, and I push back, diving headfirst into happy sobs. “I think that’s pretty good. But I really can’t say yes to the cow until I’ve tried the milk.”
“And you say my timing with jokes is bad?”
“Sorry.” Not sorry. I had to say something to keep myself from ruining the moment. Crying is not sexy. At least when I do it. Imagine a turtle choking on a sour lemon.
“Let’s see if this is funny.” He grabs me and starts tickling my ribs.
“What! What are you doing?” I laugh hysterically, partially pissed off. I hate being tickled. “Stop it. Stop.” I can’t help laughing, though.