Page 73 of Live for Me

Please kiss me one more time.

He granted my silent wish, tipping his head down, but I was too impatient. My hand snaked over his jaw to the back of his neck, bringing him down to my mouth. Our lips touched. and my legs nearly gave out. His mouth moved against mine, trying to keep up with the urgency of this kiss. My fingers stretched up, feeling his soft hair his hat didn’t cover. The brim of his hat brushed against my head as his tongue shot out, teasing me. A whimper left me as I opened for him.

God, his taste.

He was everything to me.

I brought my free hand to his side, clutching his navy pearl-snap tightly as I pressed my front to his. My breasts were against the solid wall of his chest, the thin cotton fabric of my dress not standing a chance against the heat of him.

“Beau,” I pleaded on a gasp as his arms wrapped around me, and he pulled away, smiling down at me.

“Fuck, I love you,” he said. “I love you so damn much, Abbie Spears.”

I wanted to say it back, like I always had, but I couldn’t. It would be selfish of me to say that now, when our ending was about to show her ugly head. Instead, I laid my head on his shoulder, wrapping both of my arms around his neck.

Then, I whispered, “Dance with me.”

A rough chuckle left him, the vibration of it searing through me like a bullet. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Beau’s hands came to my hips, and we both swayed back and forth, slowly spinning in a circle. When I had a direct view of the sunset, I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer. They filled my eyes, blurred my vision, and slowly spilled over my cheeks and onto his shirt. He didn’t say a word, but I knew he felt them.

“Never want this day to end,” I confessed, my voice unsteady. “It’s just too perfect.”

“I know, baby,” he murmured after a minute or two. “So damn perfect.” He stopped us then and gently eased me to look back up at him before he took a single step back.

A cold shot of fear raced through me, the look on his face more serious than I’d ever seen.

Did he know the truth?

Was he here to beat me to the punch?

Did he hate me already?

I wanted to blurt out all these questions simultaneously, demand the answers my fear desperately needed, but then, something else happened.

Beau, the love of my life, the man I could no longer be with, pulled out a small black box covered in the velvet that reminded me of his voice and got down on one knee.

I covered my mouth to stifle the cry of horror surging up my throat.

No, no, no.

He can’t do this. Not now.

No.

A chill skated down my spine, and suddenly, I knew we were being watched. Somehow, someway they were watching me, ready to kill him in seconds if I made the wrong move.

Beau’s eyes were bright as he smiled up at me, the sight so beautiful and right. God, everything he had done today was right. I was too blinded by heartbreak I had to cause to see it. He reached to open the box. “Abbie Spears, my wildflower—”

“—stop,” I croaked, shaking my head. I put my hands to my stomach as I stumbled back. “You have to stop.”

Beau’s happiness melted instantly, replaced by confusion. “Abbie? What are you—”

“—I can’t marry you, Beau.”

Everything around us stopped, and I watched every inch of him stiffen as my words echoed throughout the summer air. It took great effort for him to slowly drop the hand holding that damned little box. It took even greater effort for me not to drop to my knees and tell him the truth, to take those words back and beg for forgiveness. The story, the excuses, the plan was out the window. There was no way I could give him a rehearsed script now, not with him on his knee and a ring box in his hand.

“The hell you talkin’ about?” he asked on a whisper, his chest starting to heave now.

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