Page 74 of Pucking the Grump

“I love it so much, I would very much like to lock it down for life,” I add as I open the box, revealing her mother’s ring.

It’s a simple diamond solitaire with a delicate gold band. I was worried she might not recognize it, but almost immediately, she breathes, “Oh my God, Stone. Is that…”

“Your mom’s? Yeah,” I confirm, my own eyes a little wet. “Your dad gave it to me last week. We both thought it would be a nice way to make sure you never forget that she’s looking out for you.” I arch a brow. “And expecting you to be treated with all the love you deserve.”

More tears slip down her face as she nods. “She would expect that. But she’d love you, Tyler Stone. She’d love you every bit as much as I do.”

My voice breaks a little as I ask, “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, of course, it is,” she chokes out, dropping to her knees in front of me. Barb bounds between us, licking any part of us she can reach, trembling with happiness as Remy laughs. “How could I say no after seeing how amazing Barb looks in her flower girl outfit?”

“All part of my diabolical plan,” I tease, slipping the ring on her finger.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” she says, admiring it on her hand. “And on the same night as the biggest game of your career.” She looks up at me, her eyes wide. “Are you crazy?”

“Crazy for you, woman.” I rise to my feet, pulling her up with me. I love my fur baby, but right now, I need to kiss my future wife without a puppy slobbering all over us.

I pull her close, kissing her with all the joy and gratitude pumping through my veins.

She hums before murmuring against my lips, “Damn, Stone. Did you get even better at kissing in the past four days?”

“Yes,” I say, without hesitation, loving the way her laughter turns to a sigh as I kiss her again.

This kiss is deeper, slower, a silent promise that I’m never going to take a minute of our time together for granted. When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing faster, and the look in Remy’s eyes makes it clear, I’m not the only one feeling the need to celebrate our engagement properly.

I.e., naked.

“It’s fine to be a little late to the after-party,” she says, her voice huskier than before. “Right?”

“Barb, go to your bed,” I rumble softly, not taking my eyes off Remy. “Mommy and Daddy need some alone time.”

“Like that ever works,” Remy says, her lips hooking up on one side. “Barb does what Barb damned well pleases.”

Barb yips in agreement, making us both laugh.

“When you’re right, you’re right,” I say, sending Remy’s laugh into giggle territory as I scoop her up in my arms. Guiding her legs around my waist, I aim myself toward the nearest room with a door.

“The pantry? Seriously?” She wraps her arms tighter around my neck as I kick the door closed behind us.

“Damn straight, can’t wait.” I barely register Barb’s outraged bark from outside as I pin Remy against the shelves, kissing her like a man who’s forgotten every survival skill except her.

“Me either,” she agrees, shoving my suit jacket off and going for the buttons on my shirt.

I do the same with hers, but after a few seconds, we lose patience and embrace brute force. Buttons fly, and a beat later, a box of pasta falls off the shelf, knocking me in the head.

But I couldn’t care less.

Angel hair can’t wound me now, not when I’m flying high off winning the cup and the girl, all in one fell swoop.

"Best. Day. Ever," I rasp against Remy’s mouth as I jerk her skirt up.

“So good,” she says, shoving my pants and boxers down far enough to free my cock. She fists me, making me groan as she adds, “Stanley Cup champion looks good on you.”

“Future husband looks even better," I counter, guiding her legs back around my waist again.

I push her panties to one side and slide home.

And damn…she’s hot and wet, and so eager in my arms, it’s clear neither of us wants to take things slow. I fuck her hard and deep, cushioning her back with my hand as we rattle the shelves. Something heavier thunks to the floor—pickles? olives? a witch’s potion?—but it doesn’t shatter, and we don’t stop.

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