No White Knight

It’s a fine day when we can finally march into Reid Cherish’s office with a check to pay off everything in full. That robot of a man snaps off a frigging salute when we’re finished, and it’s a chore to man up, shake his hand, and walk out without giving him shit.

Even Cherish deserves a reprieve today. We’re celebrating.

It took a whole lot of wrangling, but it’s done.

Last week, we turned that Mars rock over to a rep from a big museum and space center down in Texas. They gave Libby an eye-popping check. She split part off for Sierra, part for charity, and part she damn-near forced on me. I only agreed to take it as an investment in my company I’d pay back.

Then we waited a couple weeks to see if we’d break out in hives or fall over dead from food poisoning or black cats crossing our paths.

So far, so good.

Seems like that old space rock wasn’t as cursed as Mark thought.

Now we’re standing on the hills overlooking that special heart-shaped cliff where all the locals here go when it’s time to make a big damn promise in the name of love. The same place I picked out on that hazy day after we found out her father’s name was clear, the first day we found hope for a normal life.

Libby blinks, gasping and slipping her hand into mine.

Even as she swings her leg over and slides off Frost’s back, she looks around as if she’s just realized where we are.

“Holt Silverton…what…what are you doing?”

I wait until she drops down lightly to the ground before I sink down on one knee, still clasping her hand tight and grinning. “What does it look like, honey?”

“You can’t! You don’t—”

“I can, and I do. For once, it’s too late to argue.”

Well, maybe it’s a little early for those words.

It’s not too early to pull out the ring I’ve been carrying in my back pocket since this morning.

I’ve had it for a couple months. It’d been an impulse buy when I went into town to the jeweler’s, after Cindy called me with an appraisal and a sale offer. Only forty-thousand dollars on the old designer ring, but when you’re hard-up, you’ll take it.

I’ll tell her about that in a little bit, though.

Libby stares at me like her eyes might fall out.

I swear to God my bright, brassy girl trembles as I open that box.

Inside is a delicate silver ring.

For her it’s gotta be silver since she’s all radiant gold. Silver makes me think of the stars, and she’s my whole damn sky.

The diamond’s not huge.

It’s not some obscene thing that used to belong to some kind of royal or something.

But I picked it just for her, and that’s what matters.

From the way her breath catches and the overwhelmed swallow she makes…

Yeah, I think she likes it.

It’s a simple setting—a diamond cut into a four-point star, surrounded by smaller diamonds like a constellation.

And tangled around the ring? That crescent moon bracelet, a memory of the night I realized I was falling head over boots for her.

“Liberty Potter,” I say. “When I came back here looking for home, I never thought I’d find it in a hellcat who pushed me down in the muck and called me every filthy name in the book.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, pressing her hands to her mouth, eyes gleaming.

I grin. “But I did. After dancing with you that night at the Norton place, looking down at how beautiful you were under the moon, that’s when I knew. Didn’t know how to say it then, but I sure do now.”

I pause, watching a crystal tear come sliding down her cheek.

“Holt…” she strangles out.

“I’m past falling, Libby. Way the hell past falling. I’m just in. All in with you.” I can’t even find words for how my heart thumps, putting it out there like this. “I love you, Miss Potter. If you’ll do me the honor of having my hand, I’d like to make you Mrs. Silverton.”

Libby lets out another overwhelmed laugh, turning her face away, tucking her hair back and scrubbing at her eyes with a little sniffle.

“Aw, hell. Can’t you just say ‘will you marry me’ like a normal dude instead of making a smooth speech?”

“No.” My grin widens, because I think I can feel her answer coming and that hope lifts me up until I’m a hot mess. “But I’ll say them too. Will you marry me, Liberty?”

“You’re the biggest fool in the world if you don’t already know my answer,” she snaps, beaming like the sun.

Then she reaches out to touch the ring, fingering the fine chain of the bracelet.

Her fingers are so warm as that touch shifts to me, resting on my lips, gentle and sweet, as if she’d caress that proposal from my skin to hers.