10. Zane
Zane
“Are we sure we’re ready to tell them?” Bliss asks me as we stand at the top of a small hill, looking down on my bred cows in the pasture below.
I picked her up from her parents’ place a couple of hours ago, and we’ve been riding through the herd checking for any early calves.
We’ve been spending a lot of time together the last month.
We quickly learned that with our fake dating, people assumed we would work together often.
It’s all either of us does anyway, so it makes sense that we would do it together now.
It’s been a pleasant way to pass through the “dating” experience.
We’ve worked cattle and sheep together, and I’ve learned that Bliss is a more patient person than I am—and that I hate sheep.
“We’ve been dating for a month,” I remind her.
With the number of questions people have asked and the way we’ve been hounded by friends and family, it might as well be ten years.
Bliss shrugs. “I’ve really enjoyed having free labor.” She grins at me, and both dimples show.
I shake my head and fight a smile. Part of our “dating” has been me helping her pick up her orders in town.
Throwing mineral bags and stacking mag blocks and boxes of medicine in the back of her truck with her.
Going out to her parents’ and helping her with her ewes.
I never want to trim another sheep hoof again.
My back is sore beyond belief. Yet I’m still planning on marrying her.
“We should get engaged.”
Bliss shakes her head. “One more week?”
I take a step toward her. Her eyes go wide, but she doesn’t step back.
I reach for her hand. “Bliss, I know this isn’t a regular marriage, but it’s not like I’ll stop helping you when it’s official. I’ll be around if you need an extra set of hands for things.”
“That’s nice, because I need to blood-test my rams for brucellosis in a couple of weeks.” She raises her eyebrows and stares at me, daring me to say something about it.
I study the slender hand in mine. She’s wiry and tough. She’s beautiful, sassy, and not interested in a conventional relationship with me.
My chest aches at the thought—but I don’t dwell on why.
Instead, I smile and fish around in my pocket for the box. I find it and pull it out.
Bliss flexes her hand, squeezing my fingers.
“Are you still okay with this?” I ask as I flip open the box with my free hand.
“I’m nervous,” she admits.
“It’s not going to change anything. You’re free to do whatever you want. We’ll just be married.” I stare at the ring in the box. “You might have other things you want to try—and I’ll support you. You’re young still.”
“You’re not, though,” she muses with a cheeky grin.
I give her hand a little tug so that we’re only standing a couple of inches apart. Raising my eyebrows, I stare down at her. “If you’re going to start with the grandpa jokes because of our age difference, I’m going to be forced to take drastic measures.”
She presses her lips together, as though she’s trying to keep her comments to herself.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I hold up the open ring box. “Will you marry me?”
She glances down at the ring, then back at me. “Sure.”
She takes it from the box and studies it. It’s a flat set ring with small diamonds all around the band.
“I asked them to set the diamond in the band so that you won’t have to worry about catching it on equipment or getting it snagged in wool.”
She looks up at me, her eyes glistening. “That’s actually the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me.”
I watch her in surprise as she studies the ring. I did not imagine Bliss, of all people, getting emotional at my proposal. Especially considering the circumstances.
But as she stares at the ring, I see a tear slip from the corner of her eye.
I reach out and catch the tear with my thumb.
She rubs at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m being weird.”
“Doesn’t bother me.”
Actually, it does. It’s making my chest do some weird lurching thing.
“It’s just that you got me a ring that I can actually wear and fits with what I love to do. And I really, really appreciate it.”
She looks up at me and smiles softly, and I have the horrible urge to kiss my fiancée.
I swallow the lump in my throat and grab the ring from her. “Well, let’s see if it fits.”
I grasp her hand and slip it on her ring finger.
It fits perfectly. She gave me her ring size, so it shouldn’t be surprising.
But when I look at the ring I picked out for her …
sitting on her finger … it does something funny to me.
This whole marriage thing is starting to feel very real, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m taking this seriously enough.
She steps away from me and extends her arm so she can view the ring. “I love it.”
Then she turns back to me and gives me a hug.
Her head rests against my chest, and she’s squeezing my waist tightly.
I haven’t been hugged … in a long time. And she’s a mighty hugger.
I think she’s going to pop one of my ribs if I don’t do something.
I rest a hand against her back and rub in little circles.
“I’m glad you like it.”
She releases me and steps back. “Okay. Let’s tell our parents tonight,” she suggests.
“This is going to be interesting, isn’t it? I’m halfway tempted to pop some popcorn and watch from the sidelines.”
“You’re the groom,” she reminds me. “You’re going to be at the center of it.”
“You know I love being the center of attention.” Because it’s a lot easier to keep people at arm’s length if you’re the center of attention. People don’t expect you to get deep—they expect to be entertained.
She rests a slender hand against my chest and pats it. “I’m beginning to see that. And I’m happy to let you have it.”
“Do I get to pick out your dress?” I ask.
“Absolutely not,” she replies with a smile.
Her eyes twinkle as she looks up at me, and I’m struck again that Bliss is beautiful.
I’ve never given it much thought before … but I’m about to marry the prettiest woman in Pine Ridge.
Huh, this might not be so bad after all.
“What’s next?” she asks.
It takes me a minute to collect my thoughts as I stare down at her. The mental image of leaning down and pressing my lips against hers is a little too vibrant, so I take a slow step back.
“We should probably have a wedding.”
“That would be the reasonable thing to do.” Bliss nods. “How are we going to live together?”
“What do you mean?”
“I guess I mean, when people come over to the house for dinner or something like that.”
I laugh. “People don’t just come over, Bliss. Nobody comes to my house.”
She looks surprised. “Really? People are always stopping by our house. Our house is rarely just us.”
“Your mom feeds anybody in a hundred-mile radius,” I remind her. “I don’t. I can’t cook to save my life, so it’s not a problem for me.”
Bliss quirks an eyebrow up. “How odd. I seem to remember you making a delicious steak dinner.”
“That’s a state secret you’re not allowed to tell anyone. I only cook for special people.”
“Does that make me special?”
“I did ask you to marry me, so it’s safe to say I think you’re special.”
Those eyes go wide, and she drops her chin. “Careful. You’ll start giving me a big head with that kind of sweet talk.”
I reach out and ruffle her hair. “You’re a weirdo, but I like you.”
She plants her fists on her hips and glares at me. “You’re annoying, and I’m not sure if I like you. How about that?”
“Sounds like the perfect foundation for a long-lasting marriage.”
She sighs and lets her hands drop to her sides. “I’m serious, though. I think we should probably discuss how we’re going to function as a married couple. Your parents will definitely come by the house sometimes, right?”
“Then we’ll talk with them. It’s not like my dad is going to go rifle through our closets.
And Mom doesn’t have the energy to be running around and snooping anymore with her arthritis flare-ups.
They’ll just come visit and talk. I don’t think they’ll be expecting a lot of physical affection from us.
It’s not like we’ll have to make out in front of them. That’d just be weird anyway.”
Bliss nods jerkily. “Okay, good point. Although we might have to hold hands in front of my parents. My mom is very affectionate and will expect some signs that we at least like each other.”
“Handholding sounds fair. What about forehead kisses? Would you care if I leaned over and kissed your head when we’re at your parents’?”
“Erm, well, no. I think that would be fine. That would be affectionate and not too awkward for us, I think. Are you okay with that?” Bliss is blushing.
“I think I can handle kissing your forehead,” I say with a grin. “Should we practice?”
“Out here?” Bliss sounds appalled. “What if your cows see?”
“I’m sure they’ve seen worse. Wouldn’t it be a little awkward if I tried to kiss you in front of your parents and you panicked and jumped backward?”
“If you kiss sloppily, they would understand.”
I snort. “I am not a sloppy kisser. I can promise you that.”
Bliss presses her lips together and shakes her head. “Let’s hope not. Because I just remembered we’re going to have to actually kiss at our wedding.”
The idea has merit. But I also don’t like the idea of kissing Bliss for the first time in front of a bunch of strangers.
“We should practice that ahead of time,” I suggest.
Bliss folds her arms across her chest. “Zane, I’m beginning to think you just want an excuse to kiss me.”
“It’s for the good of our marriage,” I promise solemnly.
She doesn’t look like she believes me. Smart girl. It’s not for the good of our marriage. It’s for my good. I’m attracted to my soon-to-be wife. Would it be that horrible if we actually enjoyed being together?
“I’ll think about it. Now, we’d better go tell everyone that you proposed romantically and cried while I said yes.”
“After you, fiancée.”
She turns to walk back to where we left the horses, and I have to fight the urge to give a shout of victory.
We’re engaged.