Page 49 of My Grumpy Sweetheart
Still, he might not say yes to a proposal.
But I needed to try because patience wasn’t my strong suit. And I’d already waited for almost a year to pop the question. Hell, I’d pretty much known he was it after our second date in that dingy axe throwing place and bar. So, for me the question was a long time coming.
But what if he wanted to be the one to ask?
What if he was on a different timeline?
Shaking my head, I flopped down on the bed, the ring box still clutched in my hand, tempting me to open it for the hundredth time since I’d gotten it from the jeweler on Monday. My fingers twitched, and my breathing picked up as I visualized the rings in front of my inner eye.
I knew exactly what they looked like. I’d had them custom made, and it’d taken a fucking long time until I’d found someone who was willing to work with me. In fact, I’d had to start searching on Etsy to find someone fitting.
Fuck it. I needed to see them one last time — and then I needed to get dressed or we’d be late for the apple butter making class. Because yes, this year we were actually going to make it.
Popping open the box, my heart skipped a beat and a shiver ran down my spine. My skin prickled hot and cold with anticipation and fear as one word dominated my mind.
Beautiful.
Dakota’s ring was truly stunning: polished, gleaming silver with an inlay of apple wood on the left side while the right side had small carvings in it, giving the ring texture and a more masculine feeling. The dents of the carvings were somehow blackened, like the silver was matted just in those places.
I loved it — maybe even more so than I loved my own version. Mine also featured the applewood inlay, but it was slimmer with a few zirconia’s added to give the ring a sparkling, more elegant look. The pair would still match — but it’d match each otherandour personalities.
The only thing that was missing was Dakota saying yes.
The clicking sound of the door being opened ripped me out of my thoughts and admiration of the craftsmanship, dousing me with fear and stress. Closing the box, I frantically looked around for a hiding space within reach.
Paws scratched on the hardwood floor and Dakota’s heavy steps came closer and closer. The door fell shut, and I was still lying in the middle of the fucking huge bed. I wouldn’t even be able to reach the nightstand without scrambling suspiciously, and I couldn’t hide the box inside my clothes since the only thing I was wearing was a pair of lacy panties.
No, no, no, I chanted, tears threatening to spill. This wasn’t going to happen this way! I just needed to…
“Bailey?”
In a desperate attempt to hide the box, I shoved it beneath my pillow, throwing myself on top of it just as Dakota rounded the corner, his hair tousled from the September breeze, cheeks a little red, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead, which he proceeded to wipe away with his signature flannel. God, he was so fucking hot.
“Hi,” I said, raising a hand and waving at him. Oh fuck, he’d know something was up. My voice sounded squeaky like one of Crispin’s toys. And the waving thing? Way over the top — even for me.
He proved my concerns right a second later. “Are you okay?” he asked, heading straight for the bed, a frown on his face. “Why aren’t you dressed yet?” Dakota blinked, shaking his head. “God, forget I asked you that question. I rather like you waiting in bed for me in nothing but those panties. Definitely something I could get used to.”
I laughed, trying to shake off the nervousness that made my skin itch. “I guess I could be talked into that,” I flirted, winking at him.
Dakota growled, his eyes flashing, his hand twitching in my direction. Then he shook his head. “I thought you wanted to go to that stupid apple butter making thing. Crispin and I hurried back to be on time.”
Right, my plan.
Cute class.
Fancy dinner.
Romantic walk.
There’d be time for sex after we’d done everything on my list.
“I do. Sorry, I think I might’ve snoozed off a little.”
Lie. My whole body was buzzing with energy and nerves, the thought of falling asleep right now was ridiculous.
“Yeah, I get it. Your week was hell.” He placed his hand on my back, right above my ass, his warmth seeping into me, making me automatically relax and press my back against the touch. Slowly, his hand stroked over my spine, all the way up to my neck where he squeezed gently, eliciting a small gasp from the. “I know you’re stressed.” Back down he went, but this time he wasn’t stroking with his whole hand, just his fingertips were dancing over my skin in a barely-there touch. His calluses were a stark contrast to my own soft skin, and I loved to feel his roughness. “You can relax now.” His hands glided back to my shoulders with firm pressure. “I’m here to take the stress away.”
A moan slipped past my lips as he dug his fingernails into my shoulders and lightly scratched over my back. I arched my back into the sensation, goosebumps spreading everywhere his nails went. Up and down, left to right, small circles. His nails left a path of pain that turned into a pleasant warmth within seconds.
