No Damaged Goods

“You remember the legend? About lovers making wishes here?” he asks. We stop together, looking out across brilliant blue skies and flowers stretched below, as far as the eye can see. All around us, too, waving around our calves in delicate pink and blue dots. “About the cliff.”

“I do,” I say, flushing, looking up at him, his profile so strong, so handsome against the brightness of the sun. “You want to make a wish, Blake?”

“Sure do, darlin’.”

He pulls his hand free from mine then, and sinks down on one knee, digging in his pocket. I don’t know why I’m surprised—but my pulse still kicks up hot and fierce anyway. A current rushes through me with a wonderful thrill as he pops a little velvet box open.

Inside, there’s a pretty silver band, set with a stone as violet as the tips dyed in my hair.

“What I wish, more than anything,” he says gruffly, his voice thick with emotion, “is that you’ll say yes, Peace. Give me forever.”

I laugh—I can’t stop myself. My voice needs to do something with the joy overflowing inside of me.

How can I say anything but yes? He’s the part of my song, the muse to my melody, everything I’ve been searching for all my life.

I fling myself against him, gasping out my “Yes” as I kiss him with my all.

I lose myself in it—the warmth of his mouth, the scratch of his beard, and I’m lost in so many sensations, taking in the world around me and feeling connected to everything. The scent of wildflowers, the taste of this man, the brightness and warmth of the sun, the heat of his hands on my waist, my back, then buried in my hair and pulling me in deep until I can’t feel anything but him.

His tongue traces my lips jealously, leaving me gasping. His teeth graze, a reminder how sensitive he can leave me with the smallest movements.

I’m gasping, breathless, by the time he lets go, clinging to him to stay upright as we lean hard into each other.

“So this is us,” he whispers, pushing his forehead to mine.

His cadence, his breath, his strength wrapped so tight draws me deeper into our own little universe.

I smile, rubbing my nose to his.

“This is us,” I answer as he slips that ring on my finger, lacing our hands together. I squeeze his fingers, then glance out over the cliff. “Shall we?”

“Hell yeah.”

Together, we gather up handfuls of flowers, weaving them together in alternating links of pink and blue, making them into wreaths, laughing as he tickles a soft flower head under my nose.

Then we throw them over the edge, sending them sailing, watching the wind catch them and make them float down gently, slowly.

It’s too peaceful, too hopeful, too perfect. Until Blake tosses something else.

A little string of firecrackers snaps and crackles, making bright bursts of light as it follows the flowers down. He looks at me and winks.

I let out a startled laugh, tugging at his hand. “Idiot. That’s a fire hazard, you know.”

“Wrong.” With a rumble, he drags me in close against the hardness and heat of his body, his eyes sparking bright as fireworks. “You’re the only fire hazard here today, darlin’.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It would if you knew how hot you get me,” he says, leaning into me, all the desire in the world darkening his eyes as the distance between us grows smaller and smaller, hotter and hotter.

Okay, so maybe it does make sense.

“Show me,” I whisper, folding my fingers against the back of his neck, my body already growing warm with my need for him—a passion that will never end. “Show me again and again, Blake, for as long as we both live.”

* * *

Weeks Later

Leave it to me to sing at my own freaking wedding.

It’s not quite planned. It’s not quite what anyone intended, but my wedding, well…

It turned into as much beautiful chaos as the rest of my life.

And I love every hot messy minute of it.

The sound system to play the wedding march malfunctioned and caught fire. Blake singed his tuxedo putting it out. The doves that were supposed to be released over the cliff got out of their cage and burst free in a squawking flock over the sky.

One of them tried to nest in my mother’s hair.

And she actually laughed. I hadn’t seen her smile even once since she’d flown in from Oahu.

Holt tried to hit on Ember, not realizing she wasn’t just my bridesmaid, but Doc’s wife, and nearly got pushed over the cliff for his troubles. Good thing Blake insisted on having two best men in Holt and Warren.

Leo’s son Zach coerced Andrea into carrying him on her shoulders, and they charged around playing horsey while everyone was trying to find their seats.

Everything was a mess.

But it was ours.