“You changed your mind?” he snarled.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
I glanced toward the parlor at the supernaturals attempting to look everywhere but at us. They were failing.
“You never asked me.”
Hudson’s eyes slammed together. “I did.”
“No, Principal, you did not ask me to marry me on my terms. You declared I was your mate and waited until I agreed before moving ahead with the wedding plans.”
He looked stunned for a hot minute, then started to drop to his knees. I grabbed his chin and kept him upright.
“No.”
He jerked his head back. “You are saying no?”
Lord, give me strength.“I don’t want to be an afterthought. Do you have a ring in your pocket? A big speech about how I am your one true love? Did you think through the setting with care to make sure it was memorable?” I looked around the house expectantly as he pressed his lips into a thin line. “That’s what I thought. I shouldn’t have to ask for this, but we have different cultures, so I am trying to be upfront and honest.” I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his in a soft kiss. His hands landed on my hips, and I withdrew.
“Let me make this clear,” I said as I stared into his hazel eyes. “I am marrying you. I am only marrying you. And I will only do this once. It’s not a decision I have taken lightly. I am irrevocably in love with you, and that will last the rest of our lives.”
He smiled. “Good.”
“But,” I continued. His smile fell. This wasn’t an ultimatum, it was about principles.
“While I might not need flowers and fairy tales, I’m still a sucker for romance. Our engagement and the moment I said yes should be firmly implanted in a core memory. Right now, it’s a cringeworthy B-grade romance movie, complete with the scorned woman and disapproving family members.”
“You want extraordinary.”
“I deserve extraordinary from the man I love, and so do you.”
He dragged in a slow breath, nodded, and released my hips. “That, I can do.”
A genuine smile lit my face as I turned and walked up the stairs to our rooms. I’d laid down the challenge, and knowing Hudson, he was going to smash it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Would you really want that peach cobbler?
Everything was going swimmingly. I had a steady stream of uncomplicated patients who didn’t require my sex therapist skills. Go figure. The bed-and-breakfast was full—mainly because of an increase in the number of long-term guests—but the small number of rooms we still had left were now booked out for the next five weeks. I could pay bills without obsessing over where next month’s money was coming from.
The world might be ending, but the power company wouldn’t be cutting me off anytime soon. As I sat in the kitchen with my aunts Liz and Sophia discussing bridal bouquets—we decided on low-pollen blooms due to my allergies—I felt accomplished, which was stupid given the universe’s interest in kicking me any time I got semi-comfortable.
Of course, the moment I thought that, Harry arrived—appearing through the kitchen ceiling—to deliver bad news. I knew it couldn’t last. Liz jerked back in her seat, making me chuckle at her expense.
“Pineapples,” he declared.
“Is he partial to tropical fruit?” Liz asked.
“Who?” Sophia asked, glancing around. Given she had met my ghostly friend many times in our super secret club, she was acting brilliantly. Although her sight was limited to those meetings, so it was fair she wouldn’t understand the context.
“Harry,” I said, gaining his attention while answering her question. “How many pineapples?” We’d been over this several times, but he still forgot. I needed a rating.
“Can ghosts eat pineapples?” Sophia asked.
“Three, potentially four, depending on the town’s reaction,” he stated, floating upside down between me and Liz. His hair didn’t move, given he surpassed the laws of gravity.
