Chapter 31 #2
He pulled his backpack off, unzipped the main compartment, then an inner compartment, and pulled a small black box out.
Her heart stopped when it all came into focus. The man who believed the journey is as important as the destination had been focused on the destination since before he’d driven them out of his gate an hour before sunrise.
He didn’t drop to one knee, but she’d never have wanted him to. He merely turned to her and talked with his voice low and steady, if a bit rough.
“I’ve spent most of my life thinking I’d never have this, a woman strong enough to stand in my world and take everything I am — the club, the sadist, the parts of me that will never be soft.
You walked away from your pack for me. You accepted my vest. You’ve let me push you far past what any other woman ever has, and instead of crumbling, you thrive while I take you apart in my ropes.
You’ve given me everything, and I want to give you my everything in return. ”
He opened the small black box, and the ring took her breath away: a bold, two-carat marquise diamond that sat east-west in the center — long and elegant, catching the October light like it held its own private flame.
It was set low on a yellow-gold band, flanked by a delicate channel of smaller brilliant diamonds that wrapped all the way around.
The band itself was thin but strong, feminine without being delicate.
It was stunning. It was bold and unexpected, with a fiery heart that flashed brilliantly when it caught the light, just like the man offering it to her.
It was them.
“I’m not good at pretty words,” he continued, “but I know I don’t want to go through life without you. I want you as my ol’lady and my wife. I want to grow old with you. I want you to be mine in every way. Our way, of course, but also legally, publicly, and permanently.”
He looked straight into her eyes, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Tuesday Marie Robinson… will you marry me?”
She’d known it was coming when he pulled the box out, but hearing the words still sent a shock through her.
She’d had no idea the man in the butcher shop that first morning would one day ask her to fucking marry him.
Everything that’d happened in the eight months they’d known each other flashed by in a second.
It felt like years, not months, and there wasn’t a doubt in her mind when she held out her hand and nodded, because she didn’t trust her voice.
Another thrill shot through her when he slid the ring onto her finger. It actually fit, and she wondered how he’d pulled that off, but the thought dissolved the moment he bent her backward and brought his lips to hers.
The kiss wasn’t gentle, it was raw, deep, and utterly claiming.
His mouth took hers like he was sealing a vow, one arm locked around her waist, the other hand fisted in her hair as he arched her backward at the edge of the world.
A low growl vibrated in his chest as he kissed her harder, tongue stroking deep, possessive, like he was pouring every unsaid word into her.
The wind whipped around them, red and gold leaves swirled around them in a blaze of autumn color, but none of it existed anymore. There was only his mouth on hers, the solid strength of his body holding her, and the overwhelming certainty that she was his and he was hers.
When he finally pulled away to rest his forehead against hers, both of them breathing hard, he whispered against her lips, “Wife. I like the sound of that.”
She laughed through her threatening tears. “Fiancé, for now, but yes. I kind of like the sound of husband.”
She wrapped her arms tight around his neck and kissed him again, taking charge for a few seconds before he grabbed it back.
And that was exactly right. It was who they are, and she’d never been happier to belong to anyone in her life.
Because she was marrying an ultimately practical man, the next thing out of his pack was two large thermoses with the beef stew she’d scented the day before while she’d been blindfolded upstairs in another of his deviantly evil poses.
They had a wonderful meal of hot beef stew and cold tea while sitting on boulders, looking out over the valley, and Tuesday couldn’t help but keep looking at her ring.
And then the questions started in her head, so she asked them out loud.
“How long have you had it?”
“About a month. Maybe a little longer.”
She turned to look at him. “A month?”
“The timing kept not being right.” He spooned up some stew.
“You went to New York. Then we were planning for two clubs to come here at the same time, and you filmed the next week. The weather was wrong the next week, and we were so close to the fall colors by then, it seemed best to do it at the peak.”
She looked at the valley, at the blazing October colors she’d been walking through all morning, and understood he’d been in possession of a ring for over a month, waiting for the exact right time.
“Who helped you pick it out?”
He was quiet a beat. “Gen.”
She absorbed that. He’d gone to the woman who wore couture and heels when everyone else was in jeans because he’d wanted the best.
And that meant she upped her mental price a great deal, taking the cost from four figures to five.
He pulled out his phone, opened his gallery. “There are matching bands, but Gen found several others that would work. I haven’t bought them yet, since I figured you should be in on that part. If you don’t like these, we can find others.”
He handed her the phone, and she scrolled through the options — the matching set were wide bands, yellow gold, the same channel of diamonds near the edge, so with her engagement ring beside it, it’d look like a single band, probably.
The next picture showed them together and verified it.
She liked the other options, too, but loved the way the matching set worked with her ring.
His would be chunky and substantial, and she asked him, “I really like the matching set, but are you okay with diamonds?”
“These diamonds, yes, since I won’t be able to knock them off. Gen told me I’ll have to clean the channel with a toothbrush, but that’s okay. I wouldn’t be comfortable with diamonds sticking up, but I’m good with them like this.”
She handed his phone back to him, lifted her thermos, took another bite of stew, and told him, “Okay.”
He lifted an eyebrow, and she said, “I mean, yes.” She rolled her eyes. “I know, I already said yes. I’m just still processing the details.” She blew out a breath. “Do you have ideas for the wedding? And how soon are we going to do this?”
“Oh no, I did the ring and planned the proposal. You do the wedding. Whatever you want — traditional in a church, biker wedding in the woods, a damned kinky wedding with you in my ropes, or something else entirely. I have twenty grand in cash set aside for the ceremony and reception. If that isn’t enough, I can add more. ”
He took her back a different way, climbing down into the gorge on a steep trail, hiking on a much lesser-used trail, looking up at the canyon walls.
They stopped for another meal a few hours later, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that hit the spot, and eventually ended up at the base of Foster Falls again, where he produced a bowl of bananas, berries, and watermelon slices while they sat in the negative ions and mist of the falls.
They climbed out of the canyon, rode down the mountain, and he pulled into an all-you-can-eat country buffet in South Pittsburg — and they both ate their fill while Tuesday stared at her engagement ring and imagined growing old with Harlan Corbett Walton, named after both of his grandfathers.
She rolled Tuesday Marie Robinson Walton around in her head, getting comfortable with the idea of it. Tuesday Walton. It was going to take some getting used to, but she had the rest of her life.