“Well, when you put it like that . . .”
My voice stays remarkably calm despite how anxious I feel inside. “Anything else?”
Her shoulders relax as she sorts through her thoughts. She puts a finger across her lips as she studies me.
“Fine.” She drops her hand and straightens her shoulders. “This is crazy and feels like it shouldn’t make sense, but it does. And I’ve done enough things in my life that felt like they made sense but didn’t. Plus, your powers of persuasion are on point. And it’s not lost on me that I lost money in my first marriage and am gaining it this time. So . . . yes. I’ll marry you.”
My insides twist into a tight knot before releasing with what feels like a spray of confetti. I watch her for any hint that she’s kidding or reconsidering.
But there’s nothing. Just a look of resolution on her pretty face.
“We go in the morning, before I back out,” she says.
“If you’re afraid of backing out, we aren’t doing this.”
“We are doing this. No take-backs on the proverbial Ring Pops this time.” She forces a swallow. “I have a friend in Dogwood Lane named Haley. She loves this kind of stuff. I know she’ll help me get it all together.”
Holy. Shit.
“Tomorrow?” I ask.
Her hand goes to her hip. “Do you want to do this or not, Doc?”
“Tomorrow sounds great.” I flash her a big smile. “We can go tonight if you want to.”
“Tomorrow morning. Do you work?”
“I can get out of there by noon.”
“Perfect. Let’s be on the road by twelve thirty.”
She starts to turn away but stops. Her hand is shoved my way. It dangles in the air, all dainty and sweet, and I try to hide my smile as I take her palm in mine.
Her skin is warm and soft. I fight the urge to shiver.
Our eyes hold each other, as if they are making a deal of their own. It’s an agreement I don’t want to think about. Not right now with her hand in mine and a hefty dose of adrenaline pouring through my body.
She draws away, breaking contact. Her mouth opens in an exaggerated yawn. She stretches her arms over her head, and I have to force myself not to look at the strip of skin that appears between the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her jeans.
“I’m going to bed,” she says. “Today has been crazy, to put it mildly.”
“All right. I’m . . . going to, too, I guess . . .”
“There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
I stick my bottom lip out. “I suck at cooking.”
She points a finger my way as she heads for the doorway. “Nope. Not getting conned into cooking for you. And,” she says before rounding the corner, “I also won’t cook for you when we get married.”
Her feet stop moving so abruptly that she almost falls forward into the wall. She turns and looks at me.
“I just said when we get married,” she says in amazement. “What the heck? What happened in here tonight? How much wine did I drink?”
Before I can answer, she shakes her head and disappears into the darkness.
I sit on a stool at the counter. The silence is almost deafening. I tap a finger against the laminate as I look around the kitchen. Strangely, I think I’d feel comfortable enough to get up and make myself something to eat if I really wanted to.
Images of getting up in the morning and coming down for breakfast shoot through my mind. It’s not a bad thought. Not at all.
But then again, if it all works out the way it’s supposed to, I won’t be here long enough to get used to it.
I sigh.
Stay focused, McKenzie. Because this might work if you don’t screw it up.
I head toward the doorway and catch the sweet scent of her perfume lingering in the air. I smile.
“Good luck to me.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
SOPHIE
The floorboards above me creak. Footsteps shuffle around like they have on and off all night. There’s a satisfaction in knowing that Holden can’t sleep either. If I thought he was sleeping like a baby after that out-of-nowhere marriage proposal earlier, I’d probably go upstairs and bang around until he woke up.
The clock on my bedside table glows the time in a bright green. Another minute passes as I watch, and I wonder how many I’ve seen it tick by since I came to bed hours ago. It’s been a lot. Many. I’ve likely watched every one since I laid my head on the pillow, because how is someone supposed to sleep after they’ve just agreed to marriage in such an off-the-wall way?
Did that really even happen?
The late-night fog in my brain has me considering that I misread the entire situation. That there was no way a man I just got reacquainted with asked me to be his wife. That doesn’t happen. Not in real life. Not in my real life. And definitely not by a man who looks like Holden McKenzie.