Lyric and Lingerie (Fort Worth Wranglers 1)

Her brows shot up to her hairline. “Are you telling me or asking me if we’re in a relationship?” Her voice warned him that it better be the latter.

But he could tell he was losing her, and it was pissing him off. And that was making him reckless. “I’m telling you. We’re in a relationship.” He needed to tell her the truth. “I have been in love with you for over half my life. We’re getting married.”

He let the verbal grenade he’d just launched at her sink in.

“I don’t understand.” Lyric looked like she was reviewing the last half of her life in her head.

“I am in love with you.” It was his turn to enunciate every word. “I want to marry you.”

“This doesn’t make any sense. You aren’t in love with me.” Lyric looked like the world as she knew it was crumbling around her. “Why are you doing this?”

She didn’t believe him. That was a shot directly to his soul. She didn’t believe that he loved her. He didn’t know whether to be offended that she didn’t believe him or offended that she didn’t believe in herself. Either way, he was angry. But he bit it back and gently took her hand.

He kissed her palm. “I’m in love with you.”

“To help my father get better. Isn’t that what we talked about?” She looked at him like she no longer understood English.

“You can’t really believe that’s what all this was. What about the tree house? And the way you made love to me, like you were giving me every part of you and taking every part of me in return? You had to know that was real. Didn’t you?”

His heart was bleeding for her.

“I just … I just thought we were having fun.” Stunned wasn’t the right word to discribe her … it was more like confused and angry.

She didn’t believe that he loved her. Worse, she didn’t trust him. He didn’t deserve that.

The idea infuriated him even as it broke his heart. He wanted to yell at her, to tell her how blind she was. But he was smart enough to know that wouldn’t get him anywhere, so he bit it back. And focused instead on the love that filled up every part of him.

“Maybe I haven’t been clear enough about my intentions.” Though he wasn’t sure how much clearer he could get, considering he’d bought her a ring and a wedding dress. Clearly, the sting of that long-ago night was still fresh for her. “I’m in love with you, have always been in love with you, and will always be in love with you. I planned our perfect wedding because I want you to see how much I love you. There is no part of our special day that I didn’t have a hand in planning. Marry me.” He struggled to get down on one knee, keeping his injured leg out straight. “Marry me because you love me and want to spend the rest of your life with me. Please, please, do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

His pulse hit sudden-death-overtime adrenaline levels. The life he wanted was right beside him, and he was putting it all on the line in the hopes that she felt the same way.

He was laying his heart at her feet and hoping she wanted to keep it. He knew that Lyric loved him too. She had to. They belonged together.

Because they were good together.

Because they were right for each other.

Because no one else would ever fit either of them as well as they fit each other.

For long seconds, she didn’t say anything at all. He could see the wheels turning in her head. She wouldn’t be Lyric if she didn’t have to think things over and analyze them near to death.

The more time passed, the more butterflies took up slam dancing in his gut.

The life he wanted was right in front of him. It was to be beside her, and he was putting everything on the line—his body, his heart, his very soul—in the hopes that she felt the same way.

Finally, he saw the answer in her eyes. And he knew, even before she said anything. “Please, please, Lyric. Don’t do this. Don’t walk away from what we have. Don’t—”

“I can’t.” There were tears in her eyes. “We can’t. I can’t. I—”

The tears destroyed him. “Lyric, please. I love you. I know you love me. We can make this work.”

“You don’t love me. You love an idea of me. You love the idea of you with me—Prince Charming rescuing the absentminded professor from her ivory tower. But that’s not real. This isn’t real.”

“It is real. We are real.” He struggled to get back up, ignoring the hand she offered.

“We’re not, Heath. We’ve never been real. When we were seventeen, you slept with me thinking I was my sister. And now, you’re with me because of a fake wedding.”

“That’s not why I’m with you—”