“Mmm,” he hums, pulling back just enough to look at me. His gaze drops to my mouth for a moment before returning to my eyes. “Keep talking like that, and I might have to do something about it.”
I raise an eyebrow, biting my lip to suppress a grin. “Bold words for a man wearing a propeller hat.”
His eyes sparkle with amusement. “You like the hat.”
“I like what’s under the hat more,” I tease, letting my fingers trail down his arm. “Though I have to admit… the propeller is growing on me.”
Milo’s hand glides higher on my thigh under the table. “Careful, Sienna. If you keep flirting with me like this, we might not make it to our turn on stage.”
I lean in until my lips ghost along his jaw. “Maybe I don’t want to make it to the stage.”
He lets out a quiet groan, but before he can reply, the host calls out Milo’s name. I blink, completely confused. A devastating smirk slowly spreads across his face.
“Earlier tonight,” the host announces gleefully. “I had someone approach me with averyspecial request. Milo, where are you?”
Milo stands, and the spotlight lands on him, catching the ridiculous neon-green wig and the spinning propeller hat. He looks fucking hot. My heart stutters as he turns to me and extends his hand, eyes locked on mine with the same intense, playful look as before.
Without hesitation, I slide my hand into his.
He gently pulls me to my feet, his fingers lacing through mine as he leads me through the cheering crowd and onto the circular stage. The bar grows noticeably quieter, the energy shifting to something electric and expectant. All I can hear is the thunder of my own heartbeat in my ears.
Oh my god.
He’s really about to do it.
The dare.
In front of an entire room full of drunk strangers.
My palms are sweating. My knees feel suspiciously weak. When Milo glances back at me, that smirk still playing on his lips, I realize I’m in so much trouble—and I’m lovingeverysecond of it.
Milo drops to one knee right in front of me, holding a small black velvet box. When he opens it, the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen sparkles under the spotlight—delicate, elegant, anddefinitelynot from the two-dollar gift shop bin.
“Sienna Harlow…” His voice is low and intimate, as if he’s speaking only to me, even though the entire bar is holding its breath.
My breath catches.
“I remember the day we met like it was only a week ago,” he begins, and a ripple of laughter bubbles up from the crowd, unaware of how true that statement is. “In that short time,you’ve turned my whole world upside down. You’ve made me laugh harder, feel more alive, and realize that life feels so much bigger when you’re in it.”
My throat tightens, and my eyes start stinging.
“I had this whole speech planned… but everything vanished from my mind the second I got on one knee,” he admits with a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “But I do have this…”
He reaches for my hand, squeezes it gently, then presses our joined hands to his chest so I can feel his heart hammering wildly beneath my palm.
“It’s been beating like this since the moment we met—when you looked me dead in the eye and scolded me for working on a plane to paradise.”
The crowd lets out a collective “Aww.”
I gulp.
Milo keeps going, his voice growing rougher and more sincere.
“I want to be the one who catches you when you jump, who chases rubber ducks with you through the jungle, who makes you breakfast when you burn it, and who kisses you like the world is ending every day, for as long as you’ll let me.”
He pauses, swallows hard, his eyes shining under the spotlight.
“So what I’m saying is…” He takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “Sienna Harlow, will you marry me?”
