FORTY-ONE
RUSHING DOWN THE STAIRS, Gia couldn’t be near him soon enough. They’d seen each other earlier that night, yet it felt like a lifetime ago.
“Mister,” she said on a breath, desperate to be in his embrace.
He caught her arms before hers could go around him.
When his eyes flicked to the side, she glanced back.
Her parents and brother were at the top of the stairs, Twyla just behind.
Roxie was halfway down the stairs, elbows on the banister, heels of her hands under her jaw, fingers curled against her cheeks, Ballard at her back.
People were looking. So many people. Not long ago her whole life was imploding, now something was changing, right here in front of witnesses.
“Irish…” Every time she drank him in, she shook herself to get over the gravity of his pull. “I won’t let you walk away. I love you and that’s it. You’re going nowhere but home with me.”
“What about SG?” she asked because there was still a risk to his livelihood. She’d have asked him the question whether in public or somewhere private. If they were going to have this conversation, they had to do it for real. “If I’m the reason SG—”
“You are the reason.”
“You’ve given up so much—”
“I draw the line at you,” he said. “Anything else can stay or go, but you, this relationship, is nonnegotiable.”
“Brog—”
“Give me a number. Tell me the price.”
“There is no price.”
“Your quid—”
“No,” she said. “You are quid.”
That was the way it had been until then. His this, her that.
“Okay, here’s the quid, baby.” As he sank down onto his knee, she couldn’t imagine why he would— “Marry me.”
“Ah…”
The strangled sound came out as her mouth opened, but she’d forgotten how to speak. Right there, pinched between his thumb and forefinger, was a diamond bigger than any she’d seen on a ring. A ring! Brogan was… oh, wow.
“As long as you bear the Sear name, you’ll belong to that family.” Similar to what her father said at Gault’s. “Give it up, baby. You’re not a Sear; you belong with the Spurns.”
“Spurn men don’t get married.”
That truth wasn’t even acknowledged.
“What’s the quo? Tell me how to make it happen.”
“This is outrageous!” her father exclaimed.
It was a wonder it took him so long to shake the sand from his shoes. Then again…
Kneeling before her, down there, gaze appealing to hers as his chest rose and fell, Brogan Spurn was asking her to… Her Brogan Spurn. In front of an audience. An audience of outraged family and eager gossip hounds.
Her head began to shake. Why? She had no idea. She needed—this was the kind of thing she needed to talk out with someone before deciding. Someone? Brogan. She meant Brogan.
“Man, he’s desperate,” Bram said, snickering. She didn’t like that the voice seemed to be approaching. “Soak up the humiliation, Spurn.”
“You can’t take my daughter.” Her father tugged her arm. “Get back inside.”
Except she didn’t go. She remained on the spot, transfixed by the proud man laying himself bare. Her man. Her Spurn.
“You lost, Spurn,” Bram said. “Get over it.”
“I can’t go back,” she said. “I can’t go back to the way things were—”
“Gia—”
“Mister, you’ve changed me,” she said to Brogan, ignoring her brother. “You’re incredible and don’t deserve to lose everything for… I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. I love you so, so much—”
“Anything else I can fix.” Rising, his hands slid up her body until they rested on her hips. “Whatever you need, whatever’s not enough. What do you need me to do, baby, tell me.”
Astounded that he could even think she needed more than the universe he’d given her, she opened her hand to slip her finger into the ring. As soon as he felt her push, he eased it into its meant-to-be spot.
“You’re my everything,” she said. “My only quo is your happy ever after. Yours. Whatever it takes, I’ll do my absolute best for you.”
“Irish, every moment you’re mine is my bliss. We’re doing this right, baby. My name, our name.”
Her father yanked on her. “Gianna—”
She jerked her arm away. “I’m done,” she said, wrapping Brogan’s arms around her as she turned to face her father and brother. “I can’t embarrass you if I belong to a different family, Daddy.”
“I meant what I said inside.”
“You won’t have me back,” she said, threading her fingers through Brogan’s. “That’s a chance I have to take.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you do,” she said. “I remember what you did to my little sister.”
Fortunately, the same action wasn’t available to her father now. Not that it would stop Brogan. A man determined, nothing would dissuade him now he’d chosen her. Thank God he’d chosen her.
Her father wasn’t done. “You’ll regret this.”
“I regret walking away from Gault’s with you,” she said. “That should never have happened. This is where I belong.” Nestled against Brogan. “I love him.”
Brogan nuzzled her hair. “And he loves you.”
Her father’s jaw pushed out. He’d want to say more, to argue, to flip out, which he was good at. But they were under scrutiny. Not just an audience, those watching would have cameras and microphones aimed their way. What was he going to do while under these lights? Man, her guy was good.
Roxie tripped up at their side. “I love it when love wins,” she said. “Good to go?”
She nodded. “Good and eager. My things—”
“Carver took care of the important stuff.” Roxie leaned back to call toward the door. “Twyla, honey, you’re not a Sear. Crimson will look after you, if you’ll have us.”
It didn’t always appear that Roxie was paying attention. She was. Always. It wouldn’t be right to leave anyone to her family after that night. Twyla was the only person she’d loathe to abandon.
And her friend took care of that.
Twyla ran down the stairs, falling into step with Roxie and Ballard as they headed for a car. Brogan led her away from her glaring father into a car all of their own.
Inside, reassurance and relief came in forward motion. They were leaving together. Together!
“Where’s Tripp?” Because this was exactly his scene. “He’ll be mad you didn’t call.”
Brogan was pouring wine. “He’s been in Mexico most of the last two weeks. Tonight we sent him back to the airport with Shanna to meet Jarrod’s plane.”
She took the glass he put in her hand. It wasn’t champagne, it was—wait, what did he say?
“Jarrod… You found him?”
“I told you I would,” he said, putting the decanter back in its holder. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a lifetime to prove to you I’m worth my word.”
Her cheeks plumped as she put her glass aside. “You are worth the world,” she said, freeing him of his drink too. “I don’t want to drink.”
“You sure? ‘Cause that’s the ‘45 Pinot Noir.”
“Which you opened before you proposed?”
“I’m a confident guy. Yes was the only possible outcome,” he said. “And you’d notice if I didn’t let the wine breathe. It’s good wine. At its best for you.”
“Thank you,” she said, intoxicated by the man, not the label. “But right now? I don’t care.”
“If you don’t want to drink…” he asked, hand already sliding up her leg. “What do you want to do?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“You can’t tell me?”
“You have to quid before I can quo…”
“Leaving your family for me is quid enough to last me a lifetime.” He raised her hand, adorned by the ring. “If we’re going to do this right, Mrs. Spurn…”
“We don’t have to get married,” she said, splaying her fingers to admire her new gem. “I know Spurn men take care of their women. Marriage is unnecessary.” She knew he was good for it, for them, for the rest of their lives. “I would like to wear the ring though, it’s breathtaking.”
“Matches its owner. I like certainty.” And contracts. “We’re getting married.”
“With a prenup.”
His exhale was almost a snort. “Irish, if you wanted the whole damn lot right now, I’d sign it over. I’m not worried about giving half up to you one day.”
“No?”
“I’ll have to give it up to our kids eventually.”
“Maybe you’ll change your mind about freedom if we have daughters.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Which reminds me, you have a little sister?”
“Mm,” she said with a nod. “Sent into exile.”
“That’s a story I’ll need to hear one day.”
“One day,” she said, skimming a leg across his lap. “Not right now.”
“You have something else in mind?”
“Oh, yeah, you might need your seatbelt for this.”
“Buckling up always makes you happy, Irish.”
She kissed him. “I love you, Mr. Spurn.”
“And I love you.”
“What happens tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Our contract ends tomorrow.”
“I delivered Jarrod,” he said.
“Yes, you did,” she agreed. “And I think the world believes we’re in a relationship.”
“Yes, they do. Don’t worry, our lawyers are already working on something more permanent for you to sign.” His fingers slid under the elastic of her panties. “How about an expression of good faith right here?”
“People don’t have sex in their cars,” she teased.
“Just wait ‘til you hear where else they do it.”
“They?”
“We,” he said. “Forever’s right here, Irish. No waiting.”
“And you know how I feel about that.”
As their mouths joined and forever sank in, she wanted what was there and didn’t care about anything else. He’d come for her as she’d fought for him. Their original contract wasn’t supposed to end this way, she could only dream how the next one would turn out.