“Yes.”
He solemnly slid the ring on her finger and then stood, tugging her in and kissing her.
Cassie got lost in the kiss and in him. The snow and wind battered the windows and the cabin, but she was safe, happy, and loved in her Easton’s arms.
He pulled back and said, “Okay, since you vehemently opposed the fabulous eloping to the Maldives and staying in a glass-bottom hut for New Year’s plan …”
“You never mentioned the Maldives.” She’d always dreamed about a glass-bottom hut with turquoise water and fish swimming underneath next to a gorgeous tropical island. Alone with Easton, it would be even more paradisaical. “How about we go there on our honeymoon?”
“Ah, no. It’s elope there or nothing. If you make me wait for a big fancy wedding, we’ll honeymoon in Cody, Wyoming.”
She laughed. “I don’t care where we honeymoon. As long as I’m alone with you and Mama Millie is okay with our girl for a few weeks.”
“The Maldives it is,” he rushed out. “Anywhere you want to go in the world, if you’ll talk sweet like that to me. Three weeks? Yeah, baby!” He bent and kissed her again.
This kiss was filled with heat and passion. Cassie was swept away by him, and she realized they better not have too long of an engagement.
Easton slowed down the kisses and asked, “How quick can the wedding of the century be planned by an expert such as yourself?”
“It could take years,” she teased.
His eyes widened. “So we’re back to eloping. I might just have to trick you into it.”
She laughed. “We could do a spring wedding.”
“Better. But I do think January is the most beautiful month of the year.”
“Don’t push it. I’m thinking May.”
“February,” he countered.
“April.” She tickled his neck.
He grasped her hand and kissed it. “March. That’s my final offer, or it’s a rustic shack in Cody for you.”
“I’ll take March.”
He whooped and lifted her into the air, swinging her around. “I love you, Cassie Coleville.”
She laughed. “I’m not Cassie Coleville yet.”
“Soon, my love. Ah, so impatient.” He lowered her slowly, their bodies melding together. Capturing her lips with his, he kissed her and then whispered, “I know why you’re impatient. You can’t stand to wait to be married to the most charming and handsome cowboy on Earth.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” She loved her charming, witty, loyal, handsome cowboy. He kept her safe in every possible way.
The spare bedroom door upstairs flung open and Presley ran out. “Mama! Easton!” She bounded down the steps.
“Hold that thought,” Easton whispered against her lips.
Presley bounced down the stairs. “It’s Christmas! Did Santa come to Mama Millie’s?”
“He did, love.” Easton pulled Presley into their circle. “But before we brave the blizzard and open all those presents, I need to ask you a very important question.”
“Otay.” Her eyes were wide as if she sensed the significance.
“Would it be all right with you, Princess Presley, if I married your mama, made her my queen, and you can always be my princess?” Easton’s eyes twinkled.
“Oh yes, yes, yes,” Presley cried out, clapping her little hands together and then hugging Easton tight around the neck. “Do I call you the king or my prince?”