I hugged her hard. “Of course you can.”
Neva stared at the ring with wide eyes. “Pretty.”
“Very pretty,” I agreed.
Bit stepped forward, and when his eyes landed on my ring, his face split into a huge smile. “It’s about damn time.”
“Shut up,” Snapper said, but he was grinning too.
“Eberly owes me fifty bucks. I said you’d propose by Christmas. She said New Year’s.”
Snapper’s brow furrowed. “You were betting on us?”
“Everyone was betting on you two.” Bit embraced me. “Welcome to the family, Saffron. Fair warning—we’re loud and obnoxious, and we’re in each other’s business all the time.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The sound of a vehicle approaching made everyone go still. Lucia raced to the window and gasped. “Thank the Lord, it’s Rascon.”
“Give me a minute?” Snapper asked.
“Of course.”
Lucia motioned for me to stand next to her, and we watched as the two brothers held onto each other for several seconds. Then, the two came inside. Kick looked terrible. Like he hadn’t slept in days. His clothes were rumpled, his hair was a mess, and his eyes were red—but he was smiling. His eyes dropped to my left hand. “Holy shit. You’re engaged.”
“As of about twenty minutes ago.”
“Congratulations,” he said, hugging me. “Take care of my brother. He’s an idiot, but he’s my idiot.”
“Hey,” Snapper protested.
“It’s true, and you know it.”
The tension broke, and everyone laughed first, then took turns embracing him.
Snapper stepped closer and whispered in my ear. “You okay?”
“I’m perfect.” I turned and kissed him. “Absolutely perfect.”
And for the first time in months, I meant it.
21
SNAPPER
Sterling Creek Winery’s event space looked much the same as it had the night of the Wicked Winemakers’ Ball, except rather than a dinner followed by a bachelor auction—one I hoped to never be in again—tonight, a wine auction was taking place. Display cases lined the walls, each holding bottles of Christmas Blessing Wine that gleamed under spotlights. Two thousand bottles, numbered and authenticated, ready to be sold to the highest bidders.
The room was full of people I knew and more I didn’t. Baron Van Orr’s PR team had managed what seemed impossible in the short time he had to publicize tonight’s event.
On the other hand, that we had extraordinary wine to sell had been a far more difficult feat.
I found Saffron standing near the entrance, arms crossed, jaw tight.
“Stop catastrophizing,” I said.
Her gaze met mine. “I’m not.”
“You’re chewing your bottom lip.”
