Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Rhett
This bowtie might just strangle me before the evening is over.
I tug on it and stare at myself in the full-length mirror in the corner of this hotel room.
Deuce set me up with a tuxedo that’s both black-tie-worthy, but also me.
The lapels of the jacket are brown suede, which matches the little poufy thing hanging out of the breast pocket and the suede vest. He even hooked me up with brand-new black cowboy boots that don’t hurt my feet.
Can’t say the same for Mary London’s feet.
I haven’t seen her outfit yet, but I know she’ll be wearing sky-high heels that’ll have her limping by the end of the night.
She and I are back on track and feeling better than ever.
Once we dropped the expectations of everyone around us, and the limitations that came with, we were free to fall deeper in love with our lives and each other.
Birdie swears the town has changed course to rally around us in our newfound relationship, but quite frankly, Mary London and I don’t care.
Checking the time on my wristwatch, I grab the black rubber flip-flops I bought at the Dollar General for tonight.
I have a seat on the edge of the bed and shove one flip-flop inside each sock.
I tuck the pant legs over and stand, checking myself in the mirror again.
Perfect. Can’t even see the bulge of the flip-flops I’m packing.
“I just need to spritz on some perfume and then I’m ready to go!
” Mary London sails into the room, her hands busy with putting on her earrings.
She digs one-handed through her suitcase until she finds a glass bottle, then retraces her steps.
A second later, she’s back again, making me dizzy with all the back-and-forths.
Shit, she’s got the girlfriend zoomies. She does this on occasion, when she’s so excited she can’t sit still. My hand claws at this fucking bowtie again, sure it’s to blame for my current breathing situation.
“June bug,” I grumble, shaking my head like I just got punched in the face again.
Mary London lifts her head and smiles at me.
She has zero idea the effect she has on me.
The woman is absolutely stunning in an aquamarine-blue sheath dress with straps and sparkly things and a tiny lace cut-out thing across her breasts that highlights how fucking gorgeous she is.
Her hair is curled and down her back with just one side pinned back with more sparkly stuff.
Her skin is practically glowing, but it’s the pride and confidence shining from her eyes that makes my knees weak.
“Goddamn, Ms. Winthrop.” I hold out my hand and go to her, hoping I can get her to hold still a second. “How am I supposed to keep my hands off of you tonight?”
Her smile amps up. She flutters her eyelashes and it’s like a spell being cast. “Wait ’til ya see the back!”
I clutch my strangled neck and freeze. She spins, her hips shifting seductively under that silky material. I get my first glimpse of her back…and I do mean her entire back. The material dips down so low I can see the twin dimples that hover just above the globe of her ass.
Not even a fist to my mouth can hold back the groan.
“How?” I grumble, not liking how I sound like I’m whining.
This night is about her. I know this and I had plans for showcasing her all throughout the ballroom of this hotel.
But how can I do that when I’ll be fighting a basic battle with myself to keep my hands from slipping under that material to grab her bare flesh?
Mary London spins back around with the flirtiest of smiles. Her gaze dips down to take in the automatic erection I’m sporting in pants not made for that kind of expansion. Now she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
“How, what, Mr. Price?”
I knew her sass just might kill me one day, but I didn’t expect to go so soon. I wanted to get the ring burning a hole in my pocket on her finger first.
I advance on her, gaze turning dark. Two can play this game. Two have to play this game or I’ll get burned just standing stupefied in the rays of Mary London’s brilliance.
“How can I stand next to you all night long at this damn dinner and not pull you away to some secret closet where I can mess up this absolute perfection?”
Mary London shifts closer, her hands drifting over the suede vest. “I do declare! I love it when you mess me up, honey.” Her drawl is thick and high pitched and speaking right to my dick. “Remind me to thank Deuce next time I see him.”
I don’t like hearing another man’s name on her lips, not when I’m so desperate to have her all to myself. I growl, ready to toss her on the bed and say fuck it to this gala, but she steps back and lifts a single finger in the air. “No way, no, sir. It’s time to head downstairs.”
I throw my head back and whine, sounding just like Rylan when I ask him to take his dishes out of his room and put them in the dishwasher.
Mary London’s laughter as she gathers her handbag and spritzes perfume on her wrists and neck is light and musical.
We make it all the way downstairs to the ballroom without me finding that closet, but it’s touch and go, I’ll be honest.
She’s whisked away from me the second we check in at the little table outside the ballroom.
Flashes light up the dark room and I stand back, watching my woman shine.
She meets the other women who made the list, and I may be biased, but Mary London’s the most beautiful.
I already know she’s the most brilliant.
The kindest. The most driven. The sweetest one of the bunch.
I slip a hand in my pocket and finger the engagement ring Clayton gave me. If all goes well tonight, I plan to ask this incredible woman to marry me. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to prove I’m worthy enough to be by her side, but I’m up for the challenge.
The dinner is long, though Mary London is somehow able to hold an ear-to-ear smile the whole way through.
She gets called up on stage with the other female entrepreneurs and I make sure she hears my wolf whistle.
After dinner, we get pulled into a few photographs together, where she chides me for not smiling.
I am smiling, it’s just more of an internal thing.
She doesn’t get it that all my smiles are reserved for her.
She’s getting some selfies with her new best friends before we leave. I shift backward to let her do her thing, my elbow resting on the bar set up in the corner of the ballroom. Another woman rests against the bar, watching the gaggle of women.
“You here with one of the ladies?” she asks me.
I nod, already feeling like my words have been used up for the night. “I am. You?”
She nods and then points to a tall woman with dark hair and a bright green sequined dress. “That’s my wife. She made the list for her dog grooming spas.”
“Congrats. Mine owns a boutique and now a honky-tonk bar.” I quite like letting her think Mary London’s already my wife.
The woman nods. “I’m just a lowly band promotor. Jasmine does all the flashy stuff.”
I grin. “I’m a lowly contractor.” Then an idea hits me. “Wait. You promote bands? What kind of bands?”
The woman turns fully to me and holds out her hand.
We introduce ourselves and I find out she helps bands get gigs at bars and concert venues.
I get her card and introduce her to Mary London before we leave.
The two immediately get a call lined up so she can help Mary London fill up her weekends at Bless Your Heart.
My hand shifts lower on Mary London’s back as I finally escort her onto the elevator.
The rest of the group has drifted away, either taking the party elsewhere or retiring for the night.
She shifts closer as the elevator doors slide shut.
I hit the button for the eighth floor for our room and feel the whoosh as it lifts off the ground.
My thumb slides up and down the small of her back.
I feel the instant her skin pebbles into goose bumps at my touch.
“I’m so damn proud of you, Mary London Winthrop. You shined like a rare diamond tonight just being who you are. I don’t know how I got lucky enough to be by your side, but thank you for letting me.”
She drops her head to my shoulder and sniffs. “I don’t want to do any of this without you, ’Lanta.”
I kiss the top of her head and inhale her scent, cementing every moment of tonight in my memory banks. “You won’t have to. Not ever leaving your side.”
The elevator dings, the doors slide open, and we walk off. Mary London sighs, shifting on her feet as I dig in my pockets for the room key.
“Feet hurting?” I ask for the third time tonight.
She waves away my concern. “Nope. I just want to go home, I think. Home to Heaven.”
I open the hotel door and guide her inside, brain scrambling. I intended to ask her to marry me out on the balcony, city lights twinkling in the background. But now that she’s mentioned it, maybe Heaven is a better place to ask the question I can barely keep inside any longer.
“Want to drive home right now?”
Mary London swirls, her face a mask of worry. “Do you mind if we do? I want to wake up in Heaven.”
I slide my arms around her waist and drop a kiss on her pert nose. “As long as we’re together, we’ll be waking up in heaven, but I know what you mean.” I swat her butt playfully. “Get your things, woman. Let’s go home!”
She squeals and darts away, moving faster than any woman should in heels that tall.
Everything gets thrown in a small suitcase and I zip it up for her.
All my stuff fits in one small duffle bag.
We don’t change, which is fine by me. I always envisioned us both wearing fancy clothes when I got down on one knee.
Mary London deserves the fanciest, after all.
The drive home is peaceful. The lights flicker by as we talk about all the things we want to see and do together. Mary London’s focused on the grand opening of Bless Your Heart, but she still manages to think of my son too.
“I was thinking of roping in Rylan for some advice. See if a twenty-one-and-under line dancing night would be something he and his friends would like.”
I squeeze her hand tighter, then pull it up to my lips to drop kisses along her sweet skin.
The welcome sign for Heaven beckons up ahead and everything in me relaxes at the sight.
I never realized how much Atlanta never became a true home for Rylan and me.
It took facing my past and the beliefs I held about myself, along with the smile of a certain blonde, to make me embrace what was always for me, not against me.
“I want to make a quick stop,” I murmur against Mary London’s skin.
Headlights bounce along the road, highlighting the Square as I turn into it. We pass by Golden Halo, along with all the storefronts and restaurants that make up our hometown. I park in front of the green lawn.
“What are we doing?” Mary London whispers.
Not another soul is out. The college kids have gone home for Christmas break.
Santa’s Saintly Elves event wrapped up hours ago.
But all the colorful twinkle lights strung on every tree and across the pavilion are blazing bright.
I whip open my door and come around the hood of my truck to get Mary London.
To her credit, she doesn’t question me. She just slides out of the truck and giggles when I swoop her off her feet and run across the lawn with her bouncing in my arms.
When I get to the very center of the pavilion, I put her down. She winces.
“June bug, I know your feet are killin’ ya.” I get down on one knee and pull up a pant leg, taking out the flip-flop from my sock. Mary London gasps above me. I grin up at her. “I’ve always got you.”
She puts a hand on my shoulder and steadies herself as I unbuckle the delicate heels and slide her sore feet into the flip-flops. She lets out an audible sigh of relief when she’s finally flat-footed. While she revels in her newfound footwear freedom, I dig in my pocket for the ring.
“Since I’m down here,” I say, drawing her attention back to me.
I hold up the ring, the diamond shooting colorful beams all around us as it catches the light from the bulbs overhead.
Mary London gasps, the end of her inhalation ending on what sounds like a sob.
Her eyes are as wide as the hole she left in the wall I built around my heart.
“This town made us who we were, but now it’s just you and me, June bug.
We get to choose who we’re going to be. I, for one, would love to be your husband, the one who cheers you on with pride while you kick ass in whatever you put your beautiful mind to.
I’ll be the guy who makes you take off those damn heels when you’re in pain.
I’ll strip you out of those fancy clothes each night and remind you we like things a bit messy.
I’ll build you a home, a business, a full life.
I’ll be the one who puts you first, always. Marry me, Mary London.”
Her face crumples into something like a cross between a smile and a sob. Her hands leave her mouth and she throws her arms out to the side. Her eyes are leaking but she turns that mouth I love so much into a broad grin.
“Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you, Rhett Price!” she shouts. Then she dances around, her flip-flops flapping something crazy as her steps echo in the pavilion. I’m sure she woke up someone nearby, but I don’t care. This incredible woman just said she’d marry me.
I get to my feet and pull her into my arms. Our mouths crash together and the kiss is instantly messy and not at all proper.
One hand finally gets to dip below the material flirting with the curve of her ass and I get her flesh all to myself.
She raises up on tiptoes and tries to climb me like a tree, impossible in a floor-length dress, but adorable nonetheless.
She breaks away suddenly, both of us breathing hard. “Wait! Let me see that ring!”
I chuckle, presenting it for her inspection. She holds the oversized diamond with both hands, tilting it reverently up to the light. “Is this…” She looks up at me, tears flooding her eyes again. “Is this Mama’s?”
I nod, throat tight. “Yes, ma’am. I think she’d want you to have it. And for what it’s worth, we have your daddy’s blessing.”
Tears finally fall down her cheeks. She doesn’t bother to brush them away or worry about the mascara dripping with them. She just holds her hand out and gives me back the ring.
With a trembling hand, I slide that fancy gold band over her finger until it settles right where it belongs.