I take her hand. “So, with that settled, when you imagine getting married, what kind of proposal are you hoping for?”
Prairie shakes her head, laughing. “Rye, you may be the oldest brother, but you did miss a few things. You're not allowed to ask a girl what kind of proposal she wants or what kind of ring she wants. Those are things you have to figure out yourself. I was locked up for four years and yet somehow, I know that information. Go ask your younger brother Bartlett. He's the married one, right? I bet he could give you some pointers.”
I groan. “I’m not asking Bartlett for advice.”
Prairie laughs. “Well, I better go figure out what I'm going to wear tonight because I have no clothes and I can't exactly show up at your parents’ house wearing rags or this robe.”
“Maybe Leila could take you shopping?” I suggest.
At that, Prairie perks up. “You wouldn’t mind if I went out for a few hours and went shopping with her?”
“Hell, it’s probably good for you. Treat yourself. I’ll get some cash and make sure you’re set up. All right?”
“All right,” she says. “Thanks, Rye.”
“Anything for you, baby.”
Later, when we're driving up to my parents’ house, I admit to being nervous like I never am.
It's not because I think that they're not going to approve of Prairie. I could care less if anyone approves of her, of us. I’ve only seen her mostly naked since the day we met, but right now she's done up like a princess. Leila did her good. They went shopping this afternoon, which put her in a good mood, and I realized Prairie has some making up to do. She has lost some time.
She didn't get to go shopping with friends and get coffee at the cafe in the last four years. She didn’t get to go out to restaurants and movie theaters. Or go to birthday parties like most people. She’s been traumatized deeply.
And the fact that she and Leila are becoming friends is a good thing. Leila is a smart, sensible person. And that's the kind of friend Prairie needs right now.
“You sure I look all right?” she asks.
“You look beautiful,” I say and she does. She has on a pair of jeans and boots that are brown leather, a sweater that's the color of marigolds, and a plaid scarf wrapped around her neck. Her hair has been curled ever so slightly, and she has makeup on her face, which I've never seen her in. Basically everything about her is her own beauty magnified.
“I don't want to mess up today is all,” she says.
“You're not gonna mess up,” I promise her as I park the car at my parents’ house.
“Wow,” she says, taking in the family home. “This whole property is incredible.”
“My dad built this place,” I tell her, opening her door.
“When are you going to have to go back to work for your father?” she asks.
“I'm guessing in a week.”
She nods, taking in that information. I don't exactly know what Prairie is going to do if I'm gone, working all day, and it worries me.
When we walk into the house, not everyone in the family is there yet. And I'm glad that we're not the first or the last. It'll help ease Prairie into the situation.
Mom and Dad are in the kitchen with Fig and Mac, my two youngest siblings.
“Well, hello, Prairie,” my mom says.
Dad gives me a handshake and a clap on the back. “Missed you this week, son. Cash is good to have around, but he is a Rowdy through and through.”
I chuckle. “Yeah? Wondered if you’d replaced me.”
Dad laughs quietly, as is his nature. “You know Cash. He belongs on that ranch of his—he needs to wrangle a horse or cattle. He’s too wild for a hammer and nails.”
I grin, appreciating the sentiment that I haven’t been completely forgotten by my old man.
Dad walks over to Prairie. “How you doing, sweetheart?” he asks her politely.