Chapter 9 #2
She makes a small surprised sound against my mouth, her hands coming up to grip my jacket. For a moment she's stiff with shock, and then she melts into me, kissing me back with five days of missing me poured into it.
When I finally pull back, we're both breathing hard.
"Hi," I say.
"Hi yourself." Her voice is shaky. "You're here."
"I'm here."
"You drove two hours."
"One and a half, actually. I may have broken some speed limits."
She laughs, a little wild, a little disbelieving. "Jake, what—"
"Just hear me out, okay?"
"But—"
"Please." I take her hands in mine. "I practiced this the whole drive over and if I don't say it now I'm going to lose my nerve."
She opens her mouth, probably to argue, then seems to think better of it. She nods.
"Okay." I take a breath. "I know this is crazy. I know we've only known each other for a week. I know you have your business and your route and your whole life planned out, and the last thing I want is to make you feel trapped or like you have to give any of that up."
"Jake—"
"I'm not done." I squeeze her hands. "I own a lot of real estate. Back in Wylde Mountain, I mean. Properties all over town."
She frowns, confused. "Okay..."
"There's this old building next to my office. Used to be a mechanic's garage. It's been empty for years. Good bones, great location, but I never knew what to do with it." I pause. "Until now."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying we could convert it. Into a bakery. If you’d like." The words come faster now, tumbling over each other. "A real one, with a proper kitchen and display cases and a little café area. We could put in a bay door on the side, big enough to store the food truck when you're not using it."
Her eyes are wide. "Jake..."
"You could work at the bakery when you want to.
Build up a local customer base. But you'd still be free to take the truck out whenever you want—festivals, rodeos, wherever the road takes you.
" I take another breath. "And I could go with you.
My job, I can do it from anywhere with a laptop and a phone.
I spent years doing it from Silicon Valley.
I can do it from a festival parking lot. "
"Jake, stop—"
"I know it's fast. I know it's insane. I know you probably think I've lost my mind, and maybe I have.
" I'm rambling now, but I can't stop. "But I drove here going ninety miles an hour because my sister told me I'm in love with you, and she's right, Madison.
She's right. I am in love with you. I've been in love with you since you handed me that first cinnamon roll and looked at me like I was an idiot for being surprised it was good. "
"Jake—"
"I love the way you argue with me about everything. I love the way you dance while you bake. I love the way you smell like Christmas morning. I love that you're brave enough to chase your dreams in a food truck, and I love that you're stubborn enough to keep going even when it's hard."
"Jake, please—"
"You’re mine, Madison. And I’m yours. I want to be part of your adventure. I want to wake up next to you and fall asleep next to you and drive through blizzards with you. I want to taste every recipe you ever create and tell you honestly whether it's amazing or needs more salt. I want—"
"JAKE."
I stop.
Madison is grinning. Not just smiling—grinning, wide and bright and slightly evil.
Slowly, deliberately, she turns toward the tripod. Toward the phone that's still mounted on it. Toward the small red light that's blinking steadily in the fading light.
"Well, folks," she says to the camera, "what do all of you think?"
The blood drains from my face.
"Wait," I say. "Are you recording?"
"No." She's laughing now, actually laughing, her shoulders shaking with it. "It’s a live stream."
"A live—"
"You just professed your love for me in front of..." She turns to check the screen, and her eyebrows shoot up. "Oh wow. That's a lot. Hang on, let me see the count." She leans closer. "Five thousand people, Jake. Give or take."
I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again.
Five thousand people just watched me pour my heart out in a rodeo parking lot. Five thousand people just watched me stake my claim on my girl.
"The comments are really coming in now," Madison continues, scrolling through her phone with obvious delight. "Let's see... 'Girl if you don't say yes I'm driving to Montana to kick you in the butt.'"
"Madison—"
"Oh, this one's good: 'IF YOU DON'T WANT HIM CAN I HAVE HIM?' All caps. Very passionate." She keeps scrolling. "'OMG that was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.' 'I'm literally crying in my car right now.' 'MARRY HIM YOU FOOL.'"
"This isn't—"
"'Did he say he owns real estate? Girl. GIRL.'" She snorts. "'Is his sister single?'" She glances at me. "Is she?"
"I—yes, but—"
"Ooh, I'll have to pass that along." She looks back at the screen. "'This is better than any Hallmark movie.' 'I would commit crimes for a man who drove two hours just to kiss me.' 'The way he said she smells like Christmas morning I am DECEASED.'"
"Madison." I step closer, trying to salvage what remains of my dignity. "Can you please—"
"'If she says no I'm starting a petition.' 'That man is down BAD and I am HERE for it.'" She finally looks up at me, her eyes sparkling. "The people have spoken, Jake."
"I can see that."
She sets her phone down, but the live stream keeps running, capturing everything. Then she turns to face me fully, and her expression softens into something real. Something that makes my chest ache.
"I guess I'd better give the people what they want," she says.
"And what's that?"
She reaches up and cups my face in her hands, her flour-dusted fingers gentle against my jaw.
"Yes, Jake." Her voice is quiet now, just for me, even with thousands of people watching. "I would love that. All of it. The bakery. The truck. The adventure." She rises on her toes, bringing her lips close to mine. "You."
I kiss her.
Somewhere in the background, her phone is probably exploding with comments and hearts and whatever else people send when they watch a live stream of two idiots falling in love in a parking lot.
I don't care.
I've got Madison in my arms, her hands in my hair, her smile pressed against my mouth. I've got a two-hour drive home that we'll make together. I've got an old mechanic's garage that's about to become a bakery, and a food truck, and a whole future stretching out ahead of us like an open road.
I pull back just enough to rest my forehead against hers.
"I forgot my laptop at Emma's."
Madison laughs. "Guess we'd better go back and get it then."
"Guess we'd better. Tomorrow."
She kisses me again, soft and sweet, and in the background her phone keeps recording, keeps streaming, keeps broadcasting our happily-ever-after to anyone who wants to watch.
Let them watch.
This is the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't care who knows it.