“They’re cute.”
“Silly.”
“I stand by cute—and whimsical and charming and fun and playful. In other words . . . they’re you.”
“When you put it like that . . .” She grinned and started toward the house, holding tight to his hand. “Give me five minutes.”
“No problem.”
Because truth be told, he planned to give her far more than that.
A fact he intended to make very clear before this night was over.
“Mmm. That was perfect, Ben. I wouldn’t have expected you to have herbal tea on hand.” Marci took another sip of the soothing blend and appraised the man beside her on the couch. Now that she’d showered the smoke smell off her skin and out of her hair and was dressed in her most comfortable fleece sweats, she felt human again—even if it was close to two in the morning.
But Ben had been awfully quiet during the drive to the house . . . and since their arrival.
“Skip always kept some on hand.”
Her companion was still too subdued.
Maybe she could lighten the atmosphere.
“I was going to call you first thing in the morning, but there’s no reason to wait to share the news. As of last night before I went to bed, we’ve officially exceeded our crowdfunding goal. Better yet, the money is continuing to come in. Pelican Point light will live on.”
That earned her a small flex of the lips. “Skip would be pleased.”
Drat.
There could be only one explanation for his restraint—and she might as well address it head-on.
“You’re mad about the trap I set for Nicole, aren’t you?”
He toyed with a strand of her hair. “I’m not certain how I feel about it, to be honest. I admire your initiative—and your willingness to put yourself at risk to resolve the issue. I’m disappointed in myself that I didn’t come up with a solution first. I’m also worried you might go off on your own and pull another stunt like this in the future if a dicey situation arises—and that the outcome might not be as positive.”
“I don’t expect us to face anything this dramatic again, do you?”
“No. But life has a way of throwing curves and handing out surprises.”
“Will it make you feel better if I promise never to implement a plan like this in the future without first talking it over with you?”
His fingers stilled. “Never is a long time—if you’re assuming we’ll be together years down the road.”
Her stomach knotted.
Was he having second thoughts about them already, thanks to this escapade?
Curses on the red hair that had gotten her into more scrapes than she cared to admit.
“I am.” She swallowed, gripped her mug—and forced herself to ask the question preying on her mind. “I thought you were too. Have you changed your mind?”
“No. After tonight, I’m more certain than ever we belong together. When Lexie called and told me about the fire, I couldn’t . . .” His voice broke, and he sucked in some air. “I couldn’t breathe. Losing you would be like losing a part of myself.”
The tension in Marci’s stomach uncoiled.
Ben wasn’t quiet because he was mad or had lost interest in her.
He was quiet because his fears for her safety, however misplaced, had taken the wind out of his sails—to use one of Skip’s colloquial phrases.
She set the mug on the coffee table and scooted closer to him. “For the record, I plan to stick around for a very long time. I have a lighthouse campaign to finish, a paper to publish, a PR business to run . . . and a handsome man who wants to woo me.” She looped her arms around his neck. “I’m not going anywhere, buddy.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Yep. This girl is ready to be romanced. Think you’re up to the job?”
A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “I don’t know—but I’d like to give it a shot.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Roses, candlelight, picnics on the beach, impromptu lunches at Charley’s. How’s that for starters?”
“Not bad. But you better add lighthouse rehab to that agenda. I told BJ to put both our names on her volunteer list.”
“Without asking me?”
“What? You don’t want to put some sweat equity into restoring your grandfather’s lighthouse?”
“I’d rather romance you.”
“What could be more romantic than scraping paint off a lighthouse?”
He grimaced. “I can think of a few things.”
“There’ll be time for those too.” She leaned in and waggled her eyebrows. “You want to practice one of them now?”
His answering chuckle erupted into a full-fledged laugh. “Why do I think life with you will be a grand adventure?”
“Is that good or bad?”
“It’s very, very good. Skip told me once that marriage can be a beautiful adventure if you find the right woman—and that some feistiness can add tang to a marriage.”
The air whooshed out of her lungs. “Is that . . . a proposal?”
“Nope. Skip also told me to take my time, ask the Lord for guidance—and cross my fingers. That’s what I plan to do over the next few months. You okay with that plan?”
“Sounds perfect to me.”
“Glad to hear it. But I’ll let you in on a little secret. If I was a betting man, I’d lay money on the outcome. Now . . . about that romance.”
He pulled her close—and Marci didn’t resist.
Because Ben was irresistible.
And as he offered some persuasive evidence to support the outcome of that bet he’d mentioned, she gave thanks for the winding path that had led her to Hope Harbor . . . for an abandoned lighthouse in desperate need of TLC that had brightened multiple lives . . . and for the special man in her arms who was destined to play a starring role in her future.
Epilogue
“Can I steal you away for a few minutes, Mrs. Garrison?”
Mrs. Garrison.
A delicious trill rippled through Marci as she turned toward her brand-new husband, movie-star handsome in his elegant black-tie wedding finery.
She held out her hand. “You may—but they’ll need us for the first dance soon.”
“I’ll have you back in time for that.”
He twined his fingers with hers, and she followed as he led her out of the large
