Page 150 of Wyatt

“Really?” I manage, vision blurring with tears.

“I know it seems fast?—”

“Yes. So fast. And also not fast at all.”

“We’ve only been dating for a couple of months. But I’m not gonna waste another twenty years playing it safe. We can get married next month, next year, or ten years from now—I don’t care.” With a grunt, he reaches for the glove compartment. Opening it, he pulls out a small velvet box. “I just refuse to go another day without putting a ring on your finger.”

He flicks open the box with his thumb. The breath leaves my lungs when I see thegorgeousyellow diamond solitaire that sparkles on a thin gold band. It’s classic, beautifully proportioned, and so very me.

“You know Cash got Mom’s engagement ring,” Wyatt explains, “and I got her wedding band. But I still wanted the band to be a part ofyourring, so Mollie gave me the name ofher jeweler, and I had him redo the band and added the yellow diamond. Because, yeah, you’re my sunshine. I hope you like it.”

I try and fail to formulate any sort of coherent response.

Instead, I sob and pull my fiancé in for a teary, salty kiss, both of us crying and laughing andhappy.

So damn happy.

“That a yes?” he asks.

I manage a nod. “That’s a yes, Wy. I love it. I love you. My God, do I love you.”

My heart skips several beats when he takes the ring out of its box. It looks impossibly delicate in his huge, blunt-tipped fingers, and I shiver when he slides it onto the fourth finger of my left hand. The diamond winks at me, its fire clear and bright.

“You’re the only one I wanna cook for,” he says. “The only one I wanna take wholesome literature and turn it into spicy prairie porn with. The only one I want to watch terrifying serial killer shows with. You’re the only one, Sally.”

“And you’re the only one my dad’s ever held at gunpoint,” I say, and he laughs, a big, booming sound. “I never thought I’d have that kind of epic love story, but I’m glad we do.”

“We.” He threads our fingers together.

“We’re a package deal now, yeah.” I lean in and bite his neck. “So how do you feel about making some spicy prairie porn of our own right now?”

More laughter. My heart soars.

Squeezing my thigh, he replies, “I could be convinced.”

I grab his hat and drop it onto my head. “Saddle up, cowboy.”

Epilogue

WYATT

Tied Up

Sally squeezes my hand,hard, making my heart dip.

“You all right?” I ask. “If you need a break, just say so.”

Her eyes are closed, a slight grimace on her face as the artist adds some dimension to the Coca-Cola bottle he’s tattooing on the inside of my fiancée’s forearm.

“I’ll be okay,” she replies. “Just—please tell me we’re almost done.”

The tattoo artist wipes Sally’s arm with a cloth. “Almost done,” he says with a smile. “Looks great.”

I smile too. “It’s not as slutty as mine?—”

“I wouldn’t dream of even trying to compete.” Sally cracks open an eye and grins. “You win the slutty thigh tattoo contest, no question.”

The artist laughs. “I like y’all.”