"Maybe."I wink at her."Pack warm clothes.And sturdy boots if ye have them."
"Kirk Balfour, man of mystery.I love it."She hops off the barstool and kisses my cheek."I'll be ready in twenty minutes."
I watch her practically skip down the hallway toward the bedroom, her dark waves bouncing with every step.The sight of her so happy in my home gives me a pang in my chest that feels...good.It's been five weeks since she first agreed to stay with me in Scotland, and I'm still half-convinced I'll wake up one day to find she's decided to return to America.
"Should I bring my passport?"she calls from the bedroom.
"No, lass.We're staying in Scotland."I drain my coffee mug, setting it in the sink."Though I might kidnap ye myself if ye try to leave me."
"Careful, Balfour.That sounds dangerously close to a commitment."
"Would that be so terrible?"The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them.
She pauses, and for a moment, I fear I've overstepped.But then Gretchen appears in the doorway with a sweet wee smile on her lips.
"No, that wouldn't be terrible at all."She bites her bottom lip, letting it slide free gradually."In fact, it might be the opposite of terrible."
I've never been a man of many words---at least not when it comes to feelings---but something about Gretchen Carver makes me want to spill every thought in my head.
"Lass, I---" The words catch in my throat.
She crosses the room to me, her steps deliberate, and lays her palm on my chest."Kirk Balfour at a loss for words?I should mark this day on the calendar."
I wrap my hand around hers, pressing it more firmly to my heart."I want ye to stay.Not only for a wee holiday."
Her eyes widen slightly."Are you asking me what I think you're asking me?"
"What if I am?"
"Then I think I need to hear you say it."
I'm about to leap off a cliff without a safety line, that's what this moment feels like.And it's more frightening than any stunt I've ever attempted.
"I want ye to stay with me permanently," I confess.My voice comes out gruffer than I intended."I dinnae want to imagine my life without ye in it anymore."
Her lips curve into the bonniest smile I've ever seen."Kirk Balfour, are you asking me to move in with you?For real this time, not just as a temporary arrangement?"
I bristle at her suggestion, and my words become a snarl."No, I am not wanting to move in with ye.Ahm bloody well asking ye to marry me, Gretchen."
Her face goes blank."Marriage?"
"Aye, I want ye to be my wife and have my children."
Gretchen crosses her arms, puckering her lips."You like to do extreme feats that could kill you, like the stunt on that mountain nearly did."
"Plenty of men have dangerous jobs,gràidh.Firefighters.Police officers.Military---" I hesitate, wondering if what she's really worried about isn't what it seems, and I soften my tone."Are ye concerned that I'd turn our bairns into stunt performers like me?Ah, lass, dinnae fash.I wouldn't let our children do anything risky until they're at least thirty years old.Feel better now?"
After a long pause, she begins to laugh delicately, and her anger floods away in an instant, "I'm so sorry, Kirk.Of course I know you'd cherish and protect our children.And I want what you want too."
"Which is..."
She gives me a cheeky smile."Figure it out yourself, Balfour."
I stare at Gretchen while the meaning of her words finally sink into my thick head."Are you saying you'll be my wife?"
She punches my arm."Yes, duh.But you'll need to get down on one knee and all that jazz.No joke.Do it, Kirk."
I drop to one knee on command.This wasn't how I planned to propose---standing in the kitchen with coffee mugs in the sink and both of us still in our jim-jams---but somehow, it feels right.It feels like us.
