25. Jake #3
My heart sank. There was no way I could afford that. But I wanted to.
I swallowed hard. “Sir, could you hold the ring for a day or two?” I asked. “I can sell my truck. She’s a 1970 C10, and she runs like brand-new.”
Roland Bancroft looked at me as though I’d made a very rude sound. “We don’t hold rings, sir,” he said. “But perhaps you misunderstood, so I’ll make myself clear. Today, this particular ring is five hundred.”
“Dollars?” I asked, my voice rising. I could not have heard him correctly.
“Yes, sir.”
“That can’t be right,” I said, my hope rising and falling like a balloon. I had enough in my bank account for that, but he was playing me for a fool, near as I could figure.
“Are you telling me, sir, that I’m not allowed to price objects in my store as I please?”
Was he trying to get into a fight with me? “No, sir,” I said, but it sounded more like a question to my ears.
“Then, if you’d like to purchase this ring for the amount stated, I would be happy to ring you up.”
He sounded pissed at me. As though he was insulted that I wouldn’t take him at his word and buy that ring, the ring that was perfect for Dalton, for the lower price.
I didn’t know what to do. Buy the ring, of course, but now I was in the middle of a conversation I had no idea how to work my way out of.
“Sir,” he said, leaning forward as if to share a sensitive bit of information, “you work at the ranch that helps young LGBTQ kids. And I happen to know that you adore your truck. That you gave her a name. Daybreak. And that you are engaged this very day. What makes you think I would want to profit from any of that? To me, your efforts are worth more than any pile of gold.” His eyes glittered as he straightened up and looked at me.
It was as though I’d awakened a sleeping tiger inside him.
Well, if there was anyone who knew how to behave around a wild animal, it was me. “I’ll take the ring for five hundred, sir.”
“Spectacular choice,” he said pleasantly, as though he’d not only a moment ago behaved as though he’d wanted to rip my head off. “This particular ring comes with a black velvet box. Shall I fetch it for you, sir?”
“Yes, please,” I said, sounding much more like a cowed greenhorn than I usually did. “And thank you.”
I placed my card on the glass as he put the trays away and set the gold ring with stars in the stone in a small black velvet box. I signed for the ring.
“I do apologize that there’s no real provenance with this particular ring, sir,” Roland said as he handed me my card back. “But it’s of such good quality that I’m sure you’ll get many years of wear.”
“Thank you.” I tipped my hat at him and, clutching that box to my bosom, I went as quickly as I could out of the store.
To my left was the coffee shop, and there, sitting at the shaded bench out front, was Dalton. He was snoozing, legs stretched out, hat tipped down to cover his face, arms across his chest.
He was wearing cowboy boots and a Stetson and dusty blue jeans, looking every inch a cowboy. It was as though his time at Snow Creek had transformed him when I wasn’t looking.
He’d changed. And I’d changed. And as we moved on together, we would continue to change. I was still anxious about change, but with him, I could deal with it.
Without a word, I stepped in front of that bench and knelt down. The sidewalk was hard under my knee, but for Dalton, I didn’t mind. People were stopping on the sidewalk, pulling cameras out. Tourists. I’d be the talk of the town, but for Dalton I would do it.
I nudged his knee with my hand. He woke up, straightened up, and pushed the hat back on his head. He looked sleepy-eyed and happy to see me. Face flushed, hair dark gold at his temples.
“Dalton Gayle,” I said, a little surprised that I sounded so calm. I held out the box and opened it, like I’d seen people do in movies. Light sparkled on the ring, sunshine from somewhere. From Dalton’s smile. “Will you marry me?”
He paused a moment. Not to say no. I could already see the yes in his blue eyes. But perhaps to hold the moment still so he could tuck it away in his heart to remember forever.
Then, because he was Dalton, he also knelt down. Took my two hands in his. And beamed at me with that beatific smile of his. “Yes,” he said. “I will marry you.”
I was filled with something buoyant that wanted to pull me up and up into the heavens. Dalton touched my face, looking at me as though he’d seen something entirely new.
“You’re smiling,” he said. “You smiled last night, and you’re smiling again.”
“Is that okay?” I wanted all those people to go away. I wanted to put the ring on his finger. I wanted him to kiss me.
I couldn’t do anything about the first, but I could take care of the other two. Pulling the ring out, I slid it onto his finger and covered his hand with my own. Then I kissed him, good and proper, right in front of all those fine folks lined up to gawk at us.
Well, they could look all they wanted, but they would never be happier than I was in that moment. Never be happier than Dalton and me together. Never.