“Yes, ma’am.” Presley saluted. She bagged up Grandma’s chocolate and sent her out the door. “And here’s your hot chocolates. They’re on the house. Congratulations on your new job.”
“Thanks!” They took their cups and left the building.
Russ hugged her close, the huge book wedged between them. “I’m so happy for you.”
Alice placed her hand on his chest and sighed. That was love! Right there. The evidence in Russ’s joy thatshewas happy. That was what she’d been searching for. “What do you say we go find ourselves a hayloft?” she whispered in his ear.
He glanced around. “Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Dragging her along by her elbow, he turned the corner and motioned for her to sit on a city bench. He set his cup down and rubbed his hands on his pant legs. “Okay.” He patted his pockets and pulled out a piece of crumpled paper. “Ah! Alice Westbrook, there are times in life when I know just what I want. But other times, I learn things the hard way.”
She snorted in agreement.
He grinned at her and then ducked his head back to read. “What I’ve learned over the last month is that everything good in my life begins and ends with you. You are my muse, my editor—but even more than that, you are my reason for smiling each morning. The only thing wrong with my life is that you aren’t there to kiss when I wake up.”
Alice froze in place, the book clutched to her chest and a pumpkin cocoa shaking in her hand. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying—” He glanced down at the paper. Her heart melted. He was so cute when he wanted to get the words right. “That I want to merge our chapters.”
She sat taller. “What?”
He moaned. “I mean, I want to merge our lives and start a new chapter.”
She cocked her head.
“I’m messing this up,” he mumbled. “It sounded so good on paper.” He crumpled the page and tucked it back in his pocket. Dropping to one knee, he held out a solitary diamond ring. “Is it cliché to say: Will you marry me?”
She hugged the book so tight the title may have imprinted on her stomach. Tears filled her eyes. “I wasn’t ready. I always thought that when you proposed, I’d be dying for it to happen.” She swiped at a tear.
“It’s too soon? Shoot.” He went to stand.
She stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “No, it’s even better this way. Yes! Yes, I will marry you.”
Russ kissed her quickly and then lifted her hand to slide the ring in place. It was a perfect fit.
She stared at it and laughed. “I didn’t think I could be this happy.”
He grinned. “You deserve it—and so much more.”
She set the book aside and fell into his arms. She didn’t need to hide behind the book anymore. She had her own story to live.
More than a few minutes passed, filled with kisses and whispers, before they walked up Main Street, promises and possibilities falling all around like golden leaves in the wind.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Russ pounded his fists against his temples. “Think, man!” Why was it that when he needed words the absolute most, they failed him? “You’re a writer, for the love of Pete!”
Outside the thick glass of his sunroom, the last winter storm of the season swirled snow, giving the impression that he was inside the tiny house in a snow globe. Usually, this room was his refuge, his solace when his office became cluttered with bills and unanswered emails and bright colored sticky notes demanding his attention. Today, it offered nothing more than a blank screen for inspiration.
His beloved sunroom was in shambles. The striped pillows that normally resided on the sofa were on the floor, crumpled bits of paper cluttered the glass coffee table, his bike helmet was in the corner, and dead leaves surrounded the potted plant. Their golden-yellow color reminded him of last fall when he’d fallen in love with Alice Rose Westbrook. They’d walked around Tortoise Cove arm in arm, chased after that ridiculous book for the library, and allowed their deep friendship to expand to an even deeper love.
But he couldn’t come up with the words to describe the sensations Alice created inside of him at the mere flick of her honey-colored hair or a light batting of her luscious lashes. Seriously, how did she have such bewitching eyelashes? He loved to watch them brush her cheeks when he embarrassed her with a heartfelt compliment or a kiss in front of just about anybody. No woman should have such power in such a small part of her anatomy.
A writing exercise was exactly what the doctor ordered. “One word,” he muttered. “Take it down to one word.” He snatched a ball of paper of the ground, smoothed it out, and placed it on the coffee table, his pen poised and ready to write the most brilliant word in the English language. The one word that would sum up everything pounding through his heart when Alice was near.
Amazing. Overused.
Fantastic.What am I, a thesaurus?
Lovely. Better, but not strong enough.
