“Candy Ray Sunshine,” he said softly. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
I sucked on my ring pop and made him squirm for a few long seconds before smiling wide.
Then throwing myself at him.
“Of course, I will,” I said. “You’re mine, silly.”
He caught me and twisted us until I was in his lap and he was sitting on the bleachers below where I’d just been sitting.
Then, while keeping his eyes on my hand, he removed my ring pop, put it on my other hand, then slipped the most gorgeous pink diamond onto my hand that I’d ever seen.
“I thought about going the traditional route,” he said, sounding thoughtful. “But I thought, my Candy isn’t a regular diamond. She’s a sparkly pink one.”
I studied the ring for a few long seconds, then threw my arms around Banks’ shoulders again and burst out laughing.
“Yes, I’m your fucking pink diamond,” I told him.
He leaned his head back and looked deep into my eyes.
Then he said, “I think you just got your ring pop in my hair.”
I rolled my eyes.
“How do you feel about a wedding? A big one. On the day that your contractual obligations to not get married expire?” I wondered.
His eyes met mine.
“I’d rather drop my sponsors and marry you,” he said. “Tomorrow, if possible. But, I’d be willing to wait if that was what you wanted.”
Was it?
I didn’t know.
But I did know that we’d be playing nice with his sponsors. He needed them. How did I know this?
My conversation with my father and the foreman that was on site with the Valentine project.
“Oh!” I said as I looked at my man curiously. “Do you know anything about an addition to the Valentine project?”
His grin went wide. “Sure do.”
“And do you know about how much all of that is going to cost?” I asked.
His lips tipped up at the corner. “Somewhat.”
“Then you know just as well as I do that we can’t afford to piss off any sponsors. Thank God that the coffee shop is doing so well,” I teased. “So next year. Big wedding. Plan made.”
He sighed. “I had a feeling you were going to make me wait. That’s what I’m always doing when it comes to you. Hurry up and wait.”
I leaned forward and ran my nose along his.
“You’re worth the wait, though,” he told me seconds later. “Always have been, always will be.”EpilogueThat look men adopt when their wife is about to check a bitch.
-Banks showing Candy his ‘oh fuck’ face.
Banks
My heart was pounding in my chest as I finally made my way to the gate, looking over my shoulder once or twice as I did.
The bull was corralled by my brother.
Which was a good thing, because goddamn was he a surly one.
“Almost lost you there, bro,” Ace said as he held a hand out to me.
Today was my last ride.
Today was the day that I hung my cowboy boots up and said a forever goodbye to the rodeo circuit.
Why was today my last day?
“Thanks,” I said as I took Ace’s hand and hauled myself up and out of the pen with the insanely pissed off bull that I’d just ridden for my last eight-second ride ever. “Taco nearly killed me.”
“Tacos nearly killed me, too,” Callum said as he rubbed his stomach. “I was okay until I nearly watched that bull gore you through the throat.”
He eyed the angry red mark on my throat. The spot where the bull that I’d just been riding, Taco Tuesday, had just grazed my neck.
But graze or not, he’d almost killed me.
On my final ride.
I was afraid to look up.
I looked down instead, seeing my stretchy wedding ring, and couldn’t help myself then.
I had to look up.
That’s when I found her beautiful, crying face taking up the jumbotron.
Our son, Lyle’s, head curled up underneath her chin as she slowly dripped tears onto his face.
My eyes left the jumbotron to find her in the stands, and there she was, standing so motionless. Hardly breathing. Beautiful and heartbreaking, staring at me like she’d seen her life flash before her eyes. And she had.
“I’m sorry,” I mouthed.
She touched her throat, where I’d almost been gored, and let her hand drop.
I swallowed hard and nodded my head, giving her a thumbs up.
She took a deep, calming breath.
Then smiled.
The stadium erupted in cheers.
The baby in her arms didn’t even flinch.
That was because we’d bought him some baby headphones to go over his sensitive little ears, just for our contingency plan.
See, Lyle was three weeks early.
Lyle, though he hadn’t been planned, had actually been conceived at the perfect time.
If he’d followed his actual delivery date rules—and the rules of first children—he’d have been either on time or late.
Except, nobody told Lyle Valentine that.
He’d seen a prime opportunity and had taken it.
In between the second to last rodeo, on a Monday night when we’d gotten back to the Valentine ranch, and a Tuesday morning, Lyle Valentine had come screaming into the world.