And then he slayed me with that smoldering, loving look of his. “It feels like I’ve loved you forever.”
I melted into him. “Then ask me to move in with you.”
“Bailey, will you move in with me?”
“Yes.” I grinned, knowing people would think we were crazy and not giving a shit. “Yes, I’ll move in with you.”
Vaughn turned into me, and then instead of kissing me like I thought he would, he produced a small, black velvet box from inside his jacket.
The blood whooshed in my ears as my heart raced.
I stared down at the box he had pressed tight between us. And then he opened it.
A stunning white gold band with one large, simple, but beautiful diamond.
It was the perfect engagement ring for me.
My eyes flew to Vaughn’s and my already ragged breath stopped at the fierce love in his gaze.
“I’ve been walking around with this for the past week, knowing it was soon, but needing to have it with me anyway. I wanted to have it for that moment when I finally knew you were ready. When you finally got it: that you and I are it. I’m usually a very patient man when I’m going after something I want, but I’m impatient to have you. I want our lives together to start. Now. So . . . Bailey Hartwell, will you marry me?”
The moment, my life in general, felt very surreal . . .
People would call us crazy.
I’d call myself crazy!
“People will call us crazy.”
Vaughn smirked. “Aren’t we?”
I laughed, staring into the eyes of this sexy, smart, brooding, complicated man, and not one part of me wanted to say no. Yes, I was scared, I was nervous, I was overwhelmed, but I couldn’t imagine saying no. All I could imagine was waking up every morning to Vaughn, going to work at the inn and returning home here—to a fully redecorated house—to him, and raising our kids here.
In Hartwell.
Together.
“Yes.” I nodded, grinning like a lovesick teenager. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Joy lit up Vaughn’s face, the kind of joy that melted away the hardness in him, until I knew I was staring at the boy in him, the boy who actually did believe in love and was no longer afraid to admit it.
My feelings for him consumed me and as he tried to kiss me and slide the ring on my finger at the same time, he tasted the salty tears of my happiness and he laughed.
And it was beautiful.
EPILOGUE
Bailey
“What are you doing?” Vaughn asked, the words soft. Tender.
“Staring at you.”
When he’d come home early from the hotel, he had sat down on the black leather couch I was intending to get rid of as soon as I got into redecorating mode. He usually worked a little later than this—we both did—but Jess and Cooper were home from their honeymoon and we were heading over to the bar to hang out with them.
First, upon returning home, Vaughn had changed into something casual—although casual to him still consisted of a ridiculously expensive designer sweater that fit him far too well and a pair of designer dress pants that also fit him far too well. I was still getting ready, so he had wandered downstairs, where I found him sitting having a coffee on the couch. I had immediately crawled onto his lap. Just because.
“You’ve been staring at me awhile.”
“You’ve been staring back.”
He grinned. “It’s a great view.”
I smiled. “That’s why I’m staring, too.”
Vaughn huffed.
I’d come to realize over the last few weeks that my fiancé—yes, fiancé!—was uncomfortable with compliments. It was adorable.
“I love your eyes,” I said.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t lower them,” I admonished, and he looked back up at me. I spotted a hint of annoyance in them and chuckled. “I still remember the first time we met. I couldn’t stop looking at your eyes. They are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“Bailey . . .”
“Do you know what I like best about them?”
He squeezed my waist again in answer.
“I like how cool they are with the majority of people. When you’re talking to your staff or your guests you don’t give away anything with those eyes. So focused, businesslike. And when you used to look at me, they were cold, hard, unflinching. Resentful.” He opened his mouth to argue and I shushed him. “The first time I saw them change was one night at Coop’s and he made you laugh. I’d never seen you laugh. And I saw then that you liked him. You respected him. It made it worse to know that you could look at someone like that, but it would never be me. Imagine my surprise then that first night we were together . . . that’s the first time you looked at me and . . . You were worried about me.
“That’s what made me want you.” I brushed my fingers across his cheek, finding that I wanted to touch him all the time. “Your eyes. I love that I’m one of the few people in the world that gets to see how beautiful they really are when you care about someone.”
“What are you trying to do to me?” he whispered, sliding his hands under my top.
“I just want you to know that as beautiful as you are—in a masculine way.” I hurried to assure him at his scowl. “That’s not what I love about you. It’s not even what turns me on. Although it helps, not going to lie. But it’s you. Just you. And how you feel about me.”
He shifted his hips up, his erection pressing into my ass. “Have we got time?”