Page 40 of Windlass

“Money, to be crass.”

“So you’re not doing a prenup?”

Ivy laughed at the question. “I’m not from that much money. And no. Of course not. I just want to know she’ll be taken care of if I can’t do it for her. Not that Lil needs someone to take care of her, but I don’t want her to have to work her ass off her whole life, especially if part of it is spent taking care of me.”

Stevie stared at Ivy, not in wonder precisely, but in awe at the conviction in her voice. She, too, wanted that for Lil, but she felt obligated to point out, “She wouldn’t see it that way.”

“But I do. Also—and if you tell her this, I swear, Stevie, I will bury you in a place no one will ever find you—I want to watch her walk down the aisle.”

“Ooooh, you’ll be waiting at the altar?” Stevie would have to apologize to Olive later for the many jerks in her body language.

“Naturally.” Ivy’s haughty expression was, frankly, hot. Stevie wanted to cackle. Lilian had been so cute when she thought she could resist this woman.

“Will she see it that way? Or maybe you two can wrestle it out beforehand. Battle of the brides.” She made several suggestive gestures with the hand not holding the reins.

“Creep.”

“What, you’d like it.”

“Be that as it may . . .” Ivy smiled, however, and pulled at the chin strap of her helmet. “I was never into the idea of a wedding, not like my mom and sister, but I want to marry her.”

“Yeah you do.” Stevie grinned so hard her whole face hurt. She’d never heard someone put such verb energy into “marry” before. “You want to marry the fuck out of her.”

“Do you really think she’d want me to ask with other people around? Not around at the exact moment, but in general?” Ivy asked, ignoring Stevie’s assessment of her marital intentions.

“For the third time, no,” said Stevie, “but since you’re worried, gimme a minute to think about it.”

She considered what she knew of Lilian. She was absolutely a secret romantic and absolutely deserved whatever she wanted. Would part of that be sharing the news with her friends so soon, or would she want to savor it? Not that Lilian needed to tell them just because they were there. Stevie snapped her fingers with the realization.

“If she doesn’t want to tell anyone yet, you wouldn’t have to, either,” Stevie said. “Except me. You have to tell me.”

“I’ll tell you, I promise.”

“It’s the condition of my help.”

“Consider it done.” Ivy paused. Then, with real fear in her voice, she asked, “And if she thinks I should have done something bigger? Just for her?”

A fair point. Curse romance writers and their grand gestures. Stevie tapped her fingers on her thigh. “The thing about Lilian is that when she looks at you, Ives, there’s no one else in the room for her. It can get irritating, actually. I don’t think she’ll care whether you ask her with us or on a private weekend in the Bahamas or whatever, so long as it’s you asking.”

Ivy flushed. “That’s surprisingly sweet, Stevie.”

Stevie shifted with discomfort, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut and trying not to sound defensive. “Well, it’s true.”

“May I ask you a personal question?”

She eyed Ivy, suspicious. Ivy’s profile gave nothing away, though her cheeks were still pink from when Stevie had waxed poetic. “Maybe. Depends on the question.”

“I guess it is more of an observation.”

“Oh no, that sounds worse,” said Stevie, meaning it.

Ivy laughed gently, and then reached across the gap between their horses and squeezed Stevie’s arm.

“I know I never lived in the farmhouse, but Lil’s told me a lot. I was worried I wasn’t going to be able to convince her to move in with me if I’m being honest.”

“That might have something to do with the greenhouse.”

Ivy shook her head. “I told her I’d build her another one. A bigger one, a Victorian one, whatever she wanted—that wasn’t her hesitation.”

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