Page 149 of Stay for Me

“Did she now?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Martha’s eyes looked me up and down. She was clearly sizing me up. “You’re tall.”

I gave her nothing else, and her rat dog moved to me, stiffing my boots.

“All those cowboys from Denver’s ranch are tall.”

“I suppose, ma’am.”

She waved her hand. “You don’t have to call me that. Martha is just fine.” My jaw ticked, the ring box in my hand growing heavier by the second. When I was ready to say something, she beat me to the punch. “You have a good soul. I can tell. A little rough around the edges, sure, but…I see that goodness in you.”

I looked away from her, feeling a tightness in my chest.

“I need you to use that goodness to take care of her. Diana deserves the world.”

“Know that,” I told her earnestly. “Plan on spending the rest of my days giving it to her.”

Her smile softened, the lines around her eyes deepening at the same time as she gave me a look I’d never seen before. “You deserve the world too, cowboy.”

My eyes dropped to my boots, that ache in my chest morphing into a burn.

“She’ll give it right back to you, my sweet Diana,” she murmured.

“Already has,” I said before I tipped my hat and walked away.

I pulled open the door to Harper Law, a sweet floral scent hitting my nose. Thomas looked up from his desk, eyes widening slightly. “H-hey, Mags.”

“She with a client?” I asked, skipping the bullshit and shoving the ring box in my flannel pocket.

“Uh, no. I can let her know you’re here—”

I reached back, pulling out my wallet and plucking some bills from it. As I pocketed my wallet once more, I headed his way, holding out the bills. “Take an early lunch,” I commanded.

“I actually can’t. I have—”

My eyes cut to him, my chin dipping. “Take. An. Early. Lunch.”

Thomas’ throat worked. “Don’t kill me please.”

“Don’t test me then,” I clipped lowly.

Diana’s paralegal was out of his seat and buttoning his suit jacket in the next second. The second after that, he was out the front door, and I didn’t hesitate to lock it behind him, flipping the open sign to closed.

“Thomas?” Diana called from her office in the back.

My boots carried me to her, stopping in her doorway. I folded my arms and leaned my shoulder against the frame, studying her. Her honey blonde hair was swept back into a claw clip, her curled ends popping out every which way. She had on her thick black rimmed glasses today, perched on the end of her nose, neck bent, head eyes over the countless documents scattered all over her desk. I looked over to the coffee bar I’d built her a few months ago, noticing the pot was empty. My eyes scanned her desk, looking for her usual mug, but it was nowhere in sight.

She didn’t drink coffee today.

My gut twisted, the sensation unfamiliar to me.

“Thomas,” she called, clearly oblivious. “Do we have the contract for the Ressing Ranch ready?”

I watched in awe as she held up papers with one hand and reached for her pen with other, biting the cap off and jotting down a note on the contract that held her attention. She capped the pen and lifted her head. “Tho—Mags,” she breathed out, her hazel eyes widening.

“Firefly,” I greeted.

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