“It’s so pretty out today.”
“And hot.”
She makes a face. “I kind of like the heat. Mostly because I don’t have to do any sort of physical labor in it and can just lie out and tan.”
“I do like looking out and seeing you tan.”
She wiggles her eyebrows. “That’s because I tan topless.”
“It’s not bad in the shade,” I tell her, motioning to a large oak tree near the barn. Taking her hand, I start toward it, hoping she won’t question anything. We have to go this way to get to the car anyway.
“I do like this spot.”
We pause under the tree, and I dig the little box out of my pocket, holding it down at my side so Danielle doesn’t notice.
“I love you,” I tell her.
“I love you, too.” She smiles up at me. “So much.” She steps close.
“Enough to spend the rest of your life with me?” I wrap one arm around her, and she rests her hands on my shoulders.
“Hmmm…let me think about it. Yes.”
“Good.” I bend my head down and kiss her. “Because if not, that would make this a little awkward.”
“Make what?”
I pull out of her arms and get down on one knee, holding up the little box. “I have loved you since the day I met you. I waited nearly a year to tell you how I felt, and I don’t want to wait anymore. Will you be my real fiancée this time around and marry me?”
Danielle brings her hands to her face and nods. “Yes! So much yes!”
I stand back up and slip the ring on her finger. “This one is real, I promise.”
Danielle laughs and brings her hand to her face. “It’s gorgeous!”
She’s still looking at the ring as I envelop my arms around her. “Oh my God, we’re actually engaged!” She makes a little squeaking noise. “For real!”
“I love you so fucking much, Danielle.” I grab her ass and kiss her neck. “I can’t wait until you’re my wife.”
“Danielle Dawson has nice alliteration. I’ll sound fancy.” She looks at the ring again and the sunlight sparkles off of it. “Does anyone else know?”
“Owen went with me to pick out the ring,” I tell her. “But I didn’t tell him when I was asking. I didn’t want him to blow it.”
“That was probably a good idea.” Danielle’s eyes get all teary as she smiles. “Let’s go. I want to show this off to your family.”
I take her right hand, and she holds her left hand up again, turning her fingers so the ring sparkles in the sunlight.
“Are you going to call your parents?” I ask her when we get into the car.
“Maybe not tonight, but I will.” After finding out that her parents were hoping to sell the farm behind her back, Danielle confronted them. They were on the phone, and I could hear the back-and-forth yelling from the other room.
Her father thinks she’s throwing her life away. Her mother seems more concerned with having to tell people her youngest daughter is a bartender. Neither were happy when Danielle told them she was staying here for good, and there were a few days there when it seemed like she’d never talk to her parents again.
And then they showed up, wanting to smooth things over. Life is too short to be angry with each other like that. You really don’t know what day will be your last.
Everyone but Owen is at my parents’ already. He’s usually the last to arrive. Everyone is gathered in the kitchen like usual. Archer is holding Emma, and Jackson comes running to give me a hug.
“Something weird happened today,” I start when Jackson goes back to his toys. That gets everyone’s attention.
“Yeah,” Danielle says, nodding her head. “It was really strange.” She holds up her hand. “This ring just appeared on my finger.”
Quinn almost drops her food. “You’re serious this time?”
“Yes,” Danielle and I say at the same time.
“Oh my God, congrats!” Quinn jumps up and gives us both a hug.
“Look at you!” Danielle looks down at Quinn’s stomach. “You popped overnight!”
Quinn puts her hand on her baby bump. “It’s part baby and part food.” She gives me a hug next and then grabs Danielle’s hand. She, Scarlet, and Mom gush over the ring.
“You’re finally crossing over to the dark side.” Dean pats my back. “I mean the married-life side.”
“It’s about time,” Archer laughs. “I’m happy for you two.”
Weston’s phone rings and he steps aside to answer it. “Sheriff Dawson,” he says, sounding serious.
“Remember when you and Owen called him Lord Fart Face for an entire year?” Dean asks.
I laugh. “And you were Captain Shart Pants. You got so pissed every time we called you that. So naturally we said it as often as possible.”
“Because I never sharted.”
“We were driving home from visiting Aunt Mary. We all smelled it for the two-hour car ride,” Dad says, and we all laugh.