As far as I know, Lane’s father hasn’t made any other comments about me being a money-grubbing gold digger, but he and I aren’t chummy yet. It probably didn’t help that I’ve become a Knights superfan and have been vocal about how the Mustangs stink.
That afternoon, while I finalize order totals for the Valentine’s Day special menu, my husband walks into the kitchen wearing a massive grin.
I lift onto my toes to kiss him. “What are you smiling about?”
“I was, um, just hoping the mail came. It’s the mid-semester report week for the kids.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Those are available in the parent portal online.”
Looking at me with an all too innocent gaze that I know well, given the kids’ shenanigans, he adds, “Oh, well, did any other mail arrive?”
I narrow my eyes and then wave the paper with the lease on it. “Maybe you can explain this. It shows that my lease agreement for the Busy Bee was paid. No funds due. Do you know anything about a Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan buying the building?”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe?” My jaw lowers. “Did your father get some hot tips on investing in town?”
Now Lane’s grin just looks mischievous. “Let me see the document.”
Hand on my hip, I hold it out for him. I don’t want Lane Sheridan Senior’s charity. This looks terrible and I’m sure he’ll hold it over my head. I mean, I’m grateful, but still.
Lane says, “Ah, yes. I see Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan listed as the new landlords.”
“I didn’t need help. Lane, you do realize your father is going to have a field day with this. I adore Sabrina, but your dad and I have some work to do in order to go from just barely civil to friendly. That said, I can’t rent from Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan.”
He rocks back on his heels, suppressing laughter. “My father received a strongly worded monologue about not meddling in my ‘affairs’ until he cleans up his own side of the street.”
“Affairs?” I frown.
“I mean my business. My relationship with you, a woman who is my world. Who isn’t after me for my status or money.Who is good and true and very, very beautiful.” He slides his hand down my arm and clasps his hand around mine.
Happiness fizzes inside and the butterflies queue up to take flight. I feel as warm as Bibi’s bestdrømmekage, aka dream cake, straight from the oven.
Continuing, Lane says, “As for the change of ownership for the Busy Bee Bakery building, actually, you’re renting from theotherMr. and Mrs. Sheridan.
“Who?” Then it dawns on me. “You?”
“Us. We bought your building. And before you get all independent on me, I have it on good authority that Bibi would have wanted us to. To keep you here, doing what you love in a place you consider home, along with all the deliciousness and joy you bring to this town.”
I stare at him, then at the lease agreement, then back at him. “You bought the building,” I repeat.
“We boughtourbuilding. For our family. For the life we’re building together.”
I fling my arms around him as joy doesn’t just rise, it explodes inside. “Lane Sheridan Junior, that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. Ever.”
“Good,” he says, pulling me closer. “Because I’m your husband and I love you.”
He spins me around and we both laugh.
Pausing, he says, “Also, since I don’t typically think of myself as a romantic guy, I have a question to ask you.”
Before I can wonder what Lane means, he drops to one knee in the middle of the bakery and pulls out a square velvet ring box. “Nina Bruun, I didn’t get to ask you this properly on New Year’s Eve, but will you be my wife?”
I gasp. “The ring is lovely and sparkly and this is such a shock and yes! Yes, I’ll be your wife!”
“I was going to plan a special dinner and tell you about thebuilding, but then we wouldn’t have an audience and I figured we don’t have to do everything differently.”
Not sure what he means byaudience, I tilt my head in question.
