I should be furious.
I should throw my wine in his face and tell him I’m not some damsel he can buy and tuck away like a pretty little possession.
Because I don’t need protecting.
I’ve spent years proving that.
I’ve balanced accounts, worked the mill, raised my son, held my head up while my husband ran off with a girl young enough to still get carded at the movies.
But there’s something in J.T.’s voice.
Ownership?Maybe.A little arrogance.And something deeper.
Something steady.
And for the first time in months, I feel the tiniest crack in the armor I’ve been wearing.
Because I’m sitting here in the aftermath of a wedding where a man just looked at a woman like she was his whole damn world.
And I’m so tired.
So goddamn tired of holding everything together with duct tape and grit.
Tired of pretending I don’t wake up at three in the morning wondering how I’m going to rebuild a college fund from scratch.
Tired of pretending I’m not scared.
Tired of being strong because no one else is.
I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around the stem of my glass.
“So, what exactly are you offering me?”I ask.“A business deal?A?—”
“A proposal,” he interrupts quietly.
Proposal.
The word hangs in the air between us like something alive.
And my heart starts pounding.
Because this can’t possibly be real.
And yet the way he’s looking at me—steady, patient, absolutely certain—makes something deep in my chest whisper a terrifying possibility.
What if he means it?
His words echo in my head against the backdrop of wedding vows still lingering in the air.
My breath catches.
“God,” I mutter.“You’re insane.”
This time he actually grins, and it only makes him sexier.
His voice drops lower.“You’d be surprised how often that’s been said to me.”
I stare at him for a long moment, my heart doing something stupid in my chest.
