He didn’t twitch, and Farrah wanted many more days and evenings like this one with him. She’d been dreaming of a midnight New Year’s kiss with him, a way to start their new life together, the perfect beginning to a year she hoped would be spent with him.
But she couldn’t wait six more hours. She shifted on the couch, which caused him to move too. He groaned and his hand against her waist tightened as he pulled her closer to him, almost unconsciously.
“Darren?” she whispered.
He was sleepy and his eyes didn’t open when he said, “Mm?”
She touched her lips to his, the warmth from his body searing into hers. He woke, his kiss becoming firmer before softening again. He kissed her and kissed her in that slow, passionate way he had. But this time it was completely different.
It was like the first time all over again, because Farrah was a completely different person who needed to experience her first kiss with a beautiful man.
“That was the best way to wake up,” he murmured against her lips before claiming them again. He finally ended the kiss and his eyes drifted open. “Farrah, I know we have a long way to go still, but I lied to you earlier. I’m still in love with you. I can’t seem to stop loving you, even when I try.”
She smiled and placed a kiss on the corner of his eye. Left, then right. “I love you too, Darren.”
She’d never said those words out loud, and emotions streamed across his face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She giggled and trailed her fingertips over his earlobe. “I want to be a Buttars. I’ve heard it means something, and I think I could be a pretty good one.”
“The best,” he whispered.
“You think so?”
“I think you’ve been working really hard at a lot of things.” He stroked his hand down her hair once, then twice. “Working hard at being the best person you know how to be. So yeah, I think you’d be a terrific Buttars.”
“When do you want to make that happen?”
“Are you askin’ me to marry you?”
She giggled and tucked her face into the crook of his neck. The scent of his skin, so much like musk and leather and fresh cotton, prompted her to draw in a deep breath. “No.” She snuggled closer though that was hard to do. “I’m asking when you’re going to ask me to marry you.”
His chest lifted and then went down as he exhaled. “Oh, I don’t know, Farrah. I don’t even have a ring yet.” He rubbed slow circles on her back with his fingers, making her whole body tingle.
“I’ll admit that I haven’t thought about my wedding much.”
“Good.” He sat up, pushing her gently off him as he did. “That way, you won’t be disappointed when it’s just me and you and Pastor Gray.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear and stared at him. “What about your brothers? That cute baby you go on and on about?”
He chuckled. So maybe baby Jackie had smitten him over Thanksgiving weekend. “Fine, they can all come too.” He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed each one on her right hand.
“And my bunko friends? And my parents, of course. And I might meet some friends at school. And Tucker and Missy?—”
“All right, all right.” Darren chuckled and pulled her to him for another kiss. “We can invite everyone.” He held her close, both hands around the back of her neck. “And I’ll ask you properly, okay? I don’t know how or when, but that’ll come.”
She nodded, a flush rising through her core and into her face. “So should we eat? The party was supposed to begin fifteen minutes ago.”
“I’m starving.” But he barely let her stand before taking her into his arms and kissing her again.
Several weeks later,Farrah finally felt like she’d found a rhythm to her life. She got up early and did homework before class. She rushed from her permaculture class to the salad shop to the boutique. Her work there kept her busy, and though Audra had taken over all the delivery and sales of the produce they grew, Farrah still felt like she was constantly behind.
Darren arrived in the boutique by six-forty-five each evening and watched her work. Asked her questions about her classes, the strawberries, the varieties of lettuce. At seven o’clock, he led her back to his house with his hand in hers.
He always had dinner ready, or he’d driven to town to pick something up. Rambo greeted her with a single bark and a quick lick on her hand. She relaxed in their company, exclaiming over any new piece of furniture Darren had completed or started. He had a way with wood, and by the time March dawned, he’d completed the new sign for his farm.
He took her out to his woodshop to see it, hanging back as she stepped over to the giant sign on the work table.
“Wow.” She traced her fingers along the top of the sign, where he’d carved big letters to spell out his last name. He’d painted them bright yellow, like sunflowers. The joyfulness of the color made her smile. “This is gorgeous.”
