I open the door and then open my mouth to let out a shivering gasp.
“Are you kidding?” I say, staring at the sight of my man in a tuxedo, the jet-black jacket hugging onto his irrepressible body.
Behind him – looking more than somewhat out of place on our quiet Youngstone street – sits a carriage and two patient horses.
Trent smirks down at me, his clean shaven face looking somehow boyish in his delight. His eyes dance with light.
“Are we going somewhere fancy for breakfast?” I ask, hardly hearing my own voice.
This is all so wonderful and unexpected.
“Something like that,” he says, offering me his hand. “That is… if you’re free.”
“If I’m free?” I cry in delight. “Um, yeah, I think I might be. I knew something was going on. Did you talk to my Mom?”
“I had to ask her something very important,” he says with a nod as he pulls me onto the porch, crushing me against his unyielding body and moving his hands up my back and through my hair.
My belly swirls as I walk onto the porch and down the steps toward the carriage. Trent has his hand on the small of my back, that special place he so often touches, pressing into me with what feels like all the affection in the world bursting out of him.
“Is this why you asked me to wear the dress?” I murmur.
I was supposed to be meeting him in half an hour at his place, wearing the golden dress I wore for our first real date. I’ve worn tights with it this time since it’s daytime and I know my man doesn’t like me displaying too much of myself for other men to see.
I know other women might find this too possessive, but I love how he wants to save me all for himself.
He chuckles and opens the carriage door, waving me inside.
“No comment.”
“Oh, aren’t you mysterious?” I tease. “Wait a sec… who’s driving?”
He smirks and leans down, kissing me tantalizingly on the forehead. My skin tingles and shivers move down my neck and over my breasts, scorching me, setting me alight.
“Who do you think?”
“You really are crazily multitalented, Trent, you know that?”
“Careful,” he says, “or you’ll give me a big head.”
I giggle at the callback to one of our earlier jokes when he said I was giving him a big head in a whole different type of way.
Climbing into the carriage, I let my head fall back and the warm spring air dance over my skin. Trent climbs into the driver’s seat and softly moves the reins, the horses moving slowly down the street.
Part of me wants to ask where we’re going, but another part doesn’t want to ruin the surprise.
We move through Youngstone and Mrs. Pennyworth stares up at us from outside the bakery, a warm smile spreads across her face. The other residents smile too.
People have been so wonderful now that Trent and I have gone public, surprising me with how much support they’ve offered. It would be different if I was with another older man, but everybody knows how loyal, honorable, and downright good Trent Tanner is.
We leave Main Street and head out toward the residential streets in the fancier part of town, not the low-income housing where mom and I live.
“I used to come out here when I was a kid,” I say, drinking in the sight of the three and four and even five bedroom homes.
The lawns are all pristine and the house at the end of the row has a big beautiful gate and a fountain out front. The gate is shiny metal and it glistens in the morning sun, the water shining even brighter as it spurts in the fountain.
“The mayor lives here, doesn’t he?” I murmur, as my eyes move over the gorgeous grandeur of the colonial-style house, with its red façade and its big family-sized porch. “Wait… he’s selling?”
My eyes move over the For Sale sign.
“Not anymore,” Trent says.
“He changed his mind…”
I trail off when the realization thunders into me.
“You bought it?”
He jumps deftly down from the carriage, landing with his characteristic grace. It still surprises me how a man of his towering stature can move so fluidly, but it shouldn’t. He danced around those ass-hats in the lettermen jackets like a professional fighter.
He offers me his hand, his jaw suddenly tight, his eyes brimming with intensity.
I squeeze onto him and step down from the carriage, my heart pounding frantically in my chest, whispering this is it, this is the moment.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, I try to warn myself.
“I bought it for us,” he says, his hands on my hips, his eyes pinning me in place.
It feels so good being captive by his gaze.
“It’s ours,” he goes on, his voice a shivering growl. “The sale went through this morning. And I was so goddamn relieved, Snapshot. Because I’ve been waiting until now, while we’re standing outside our family home, to tell you I love you.”
I gasp and tears prick my eyes, joy dancing around my body.
“I love you,” he growls, sighing heavily as though he’s glad he finally gets to speak those sacred words. “I love you more than a man like me should be able to love. I thought I was cold. I thought I was closed-off. I thought I was a thousand things and all of them were damn wrong. Nothing compares with the love I feel for you, Tessa. Nothing can compare.”
“I love you too,” I gasp, grabbing onto the solid mass of his arms, feeling the protective strength of his muscles. “I didn’t want to be the first to say it. I was so freaking nervous. I love you so, so much, Trent.”
“Good,” he says, taking a step back. “Because it’d make this pretty awkward otherwise.”
“Make what awkward…”
My sentence cuts off with an emotional choking noise when he falls fluidly to one knee.
He smiles up at me, really smiles, in the way he has a few times since Angie gave us her blessing. It’s a
