Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
I want Jenn to have my name.
I want her in my house every night, eating my cooking and curling up with me and walking around in nothing but a robe.
I want her with me, wearing my ring and my t-shirts.
I even want her crazy dogs crowding up our bed and snoring in my ear.
“You could have found a better selection in Seattle,” Benson says.
“Yeah, the wrong kind. I know my kitten. She’ll enjoy an antique far more than something flashy.”
The jeweler comes to stand behind the case I’m looking at. “Can I help you with something?”
I point at a yellow gold ring with an oval diamond centerpiece. The two teardrop diamonds are arranged to touch at the points resting on both sides of the oval. The band is carved into roses, and in the middle, something too perfect.
“Benson, what does that look like?” I turn to look at him.
He leans over to see where I’m pointing and squints. “I think I see...a bee in a rose bush?” His eyebrows dart up. “Wow. I guess it’s meant to be after all.”
That’s all the confirmation I needed.
I’m already grinning like a sappy goddamned fool.
“Give me that one,” I tell the jeweler.
The man takes it out of the case. “This ring might be a little hard to size with the intricate metal work. I can’t guarantee I can make it perfect without disrupting the pattern.”
“I borrowed the ring her grandmother gave her last week so I could get a size. If it’s not a good fit, I’d like to have one just like it made. This is my wife’s ring,” I say matter-of-factly, taking Jenn’s ring from my pocket and handing it to the jeweler.
Benson chuckles. “She hasn’t said yes yet.”
“And? I’m a good negotiator.”
He laughs louder. “I have a feeling if you call your proposal a negotiation, Miss Landers will slap you.”
“Whatever. I’ve got this.”
And I do.
I don’t tell Benson that when I say I’m good at negotiations, I mean I’ll give that woman anything she wants to be mine.
She already knows I can’t live without her.
“This is perfect,” the jeweler says a little while later.
“It’s a fit?”
“Yes. This ring is from the 1930s. I was worried it wouldn’t line up, but your girlfriend has slender fingers.”
I grin. “She’s perfect that way.”
And after this, perfectly and irrevocably mine.
I open my wallet and hand him my card.
“You sure? Most guys stop in here a few times before they commit.”
I nod firmly.
I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.
Well, maybe one thing.
He swipes my card and passes it back to me.
“I should have been here sooner,” I mutter as he boxes the ring up and slides it over.
“Good luck,” he says, waving as we turn to go.
The next week Jenn and I are bundled up against the biting December wind, walking my property with the dogs.
They stay close to our sides and trot faster for extra warmth, though they seem cozy enough in their black-and-red checkered coats.
“So, why do I want to see your new storage shed again?” she asks with a curious smile.
“It’s a good place to keep your boat.”
“Huh? But I agreed to have the boathouse restored.”
Damn. I didn’t think my cover story through.
“Because. Maybe I have a surprise for you and you love me too much to tell me no.”
She giggles. “I do love you. Some days.”
Brat.
I pull her closer as the wind sweeps through her hair and drop a kiss on top of her head.
“What if I promise to overcompensate for my less than noble behavior tonight?”
She looks up at me and grins. “What if I don’t want to wait until tonight?”
“Then I’d be happy as hell to oblige.”
She blushes and laughs.
I drop an arm around her, shepherding her onward to the new shed. “I love it when you blush.”
“Miles, it’s freezing. Hurry.”
“I’ll heat you up when we get there. Don’t fret,” I tell her.
She giggles and elbows me.
“Speaking of the boat, did you decide when to start the tours?”
“I’m hoping for March, weather pending, but if it’s still too frigid we may have to push back the date.”
“That’ll be a good new income stream for the inn. You could even add a few kayak rentals in the future, if you want to expand the docks.”
She looks at me. “I could. But aside from you playing hero with my old boathouse, the inn is my problem, remember? I don’t want to make a habit of you propping up my business.”
“And I want to make your problems mine,” I growl, grabbing her hand and bringing it to my lips.
She smiles softly as I kiss her skin.
Coffee and Cream run ahead of us, both of them barking impatiently.
It’s like they can read my mind.
A few more steps toward the dip in elevation, and the tower comes into view, planted on a windswept cliff.