“An engagement ring isn’t about need, sweetheart.” Tarr smiled at her and handed Grayson his card.
“We can do three payments,” he offered.
“Just do all of it,” Tarr said. “And seven weeks is just fine too.”
Briar swallowed hard, trying to get all the words she wanted to say to go back down. Tarr wouldn’t want to argue with her in front of others, and she didn’t want that either. She knew he had money, and she managed to wait until Tarr had his receipt, a tentative delivery date, and they’d left the jeweler before she couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Have I ever told you that I have a…significant amount of savings?” Briar laced her arm through Tarr’s and kept her attention facing forward.
“No, you haven’t,” Tarr said just as casually. “I mean, I assumed, what with your career and all, but no. You’ve not said much about it.”
“I nearly lost everything,” Briar said. “My last boyfriend claimed to also be a financial planner, and I think that was the first time in my life that alarms went off in my head and I actually listened to them.”
Briar didn’t like revisiting her past, but it wasn’t nearly as painful now as it had been in the past. “I broke up with him, and I managed to get my money out of his control before he spent it, or stole it, or moved it.”
She released her breath and stepped in front of Tarr. “I just have to say it.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less, sweetheart.”
“Twelve thousand dollars is a ridiculous amount of money for a ring.”
Tarr tilted his head in that annoyingly sexy way he had. She heard him ask, “Is it?” in his gorgeous voice before he actually asked it.
She cocked her hip right there on the sidewalk, only steps from Maven’s. They weren’t going to eat next anyway, as Tarr hadn’t realized the animal shelter was doing an adoption event that day and wouldn’t be open afterward.
He’d looked up the one on the south side of the city, and they were driving there next.
“Sweetheart, it’s a token of love. It endures all things, and it’s a power that nothing else can compete with. It’s not about the diamonds or the gold or the shape or the cut. It’s about me telling you,I love you,every time you look at it. It’s about you thinking,he loves me so much, every time you slip it on your finger.”
Tarr reached up and swiped his cowboy hat off his head, ran his fingers through his hair, and put himself right back together. “Love needs a token, and I will pay any price to give you the one you love most, so that every time you see it or feel it on your hand, you’ll know that it’s a symbol orourlove.” He added a smile to his statement and pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Now, can we go get my dog?”
Briar watched him for a moment, and then another one. The emotions running through her felt heavy and light at the same time, and they sparkled with nothing but joy upon joy upon joy.
And she now knew what loving a really, really good man felt like.
“I know it’s a long drive, but?—”
“I’m in love with you.” Briar practically shouted over him. He fell silent, and actually stepped back, his eyebrows now riding high on his forehead.
Briar swallowed, but this time it wasn’t to keep words down but an attempt to steady herself so she could say what teemed beneath her tongue. Down in her chest. In her heart. Everywhere.
“I love you, Tarr Olson,” she said, her voice cracking on his last name. “And I canfeelit, and I know what it is, and it’s—it’s—it’sincredible.”
Tears streamed down her face, but Tarr laughed right out loud and wrapped her up in his strong cowboy arms. He spun her around until she was laughing too, and when he set her on her feet, the world stayed tilted for only a single moment.
Then she looked into Tarr’s eyes, and everything became absolutely right. Her chin shook, but her resolve and her feelings remained rock solid.
“I love you,” she said again.
“Yeah, you do.” He kissed her, laughing at the same time, and pulled away. Then Tarr sobered, gathered her close, and pressed his cheek to hers. “I love you too, honey.”
forty-four
“Look at that, baby.” Gerty pointed up, though she’d been cradling West and they’d both been looking up into the dark summer sky for the past ten minutes.
The firework exploded—finally—and sheer gold sparks formed into what Gerty had grown up calling “witch’s hair.”
“It’s the witchy one, Momma.”
