“I love you too. The meeting went really well, actually. I was the one to come up with this year’s fundraising effort. Your parents actually gave me the idea.” He told her of his plans and hopes for the event.
Raven’s silence was unnerving. Fuck.
“Oh, Bran. Oh, my. I... don’t know... I can’t begin to tell you... Damn it! You asshole, I’m trying to work at Wolves, and you’re making me cry in front of the contractors.” He heard her sigh before saying, “You are... so thoughtful. My sisters...”
Bran could hear her trying to stifle her tears. He wished he were able to hug her close.
“My sisters,” Raven continued, “will be so very pleased.” She changed the subject, probably to give her emotions a break. “When will you be home? I’ve found I don’t like sleeping alone.”
Bran groaned. “Rave, you’re killing me. I’m heading to the airport now. I’m meeting Dad at the Congressional Country Club in Maryland for a few days of politicking and oil talk with a side of golf. Boring as fuck, and I still don’t know how Dad suckeredme into it. I must wish for Pat to be the oldest son a hundred times a day.”
“How about this? I work my ass off at Wolves. Drive my sisters to exhaustion, and then, in three days, I’ll escape to your house?—”
“Our house,” Bran corrected.
“Our house... and we can have a romantic evening. Just the two of us. Because, if you remember, we’re having an O’Faolain-O’Connor fun night of drinking and games this weekend.”
“That sounds perfect, babe. I will think of nothing else while I’m gone. I admit that an evening planned by River and Patrick sounds slightly... scary.”
“No shit, right? Those two spend way too much time together. As ‘good’ friends. I’m using air quotes you can’t see but would totally appreciate if you could.”
Bran was dying. Patrick would kill him and Raven if he knew they were speculating about his love life— which made it even more fun. “I’ll call you tonight when I get to the Club. I love you, Raven.”
“You’re everything to me, Bran. Talk to you tonight.”
Bran was swamped with happiness. He wanted desperately to call James and tell him what he was getting ready to do, but he was reluctant. James was good but not great. He and Jane breaking up was still a mystery. He hoped, for the sake of his friend, the relationship would someday be mended. James was at his best with Jane.
Patrick and Dad knew he was going to a jewelry designer in OKC before going to the airport. He was like a child at Christmas. He’d planned precisely what he wanted for Raven and had already sent his initial designs to the designer. All that was left was to see the completed ring and ensure it matched his vision.
He knew enough about his girlfriend to know that flashy was not her thing. She was Irish and Native American. Both cultures appreciated the land upon which they walked. When they’d been in Ireland, Bran had witnessed Raven being moved by the rugged beauty of an untarnished landscape, smiling when a fierce thunderstorm rolled in, and taking the time to smell the bloom of an early flower. She wouldn’t appreciate a spectacle on her finger. He grinned at the thought.
Bran was confident that Raven wanted him. Not his wealth and social pull. Just him. This, over anything else, helped him design, what he hoped, was the perfect ring. Well, that and the opinionated Bébhinn Byrne.
Bran chose a 4-carat round-cut emerald. Set in a delicate platinum band. No diamonds. No frills. The band should have a subtle braid design to it. He thought to go smaller with the emerald, but in the end, he wanted the green to stand out brilliantly on her finger, forever reminding them of their first trip to Ireland. He could save diamonds for her ears, lovely throat, and wrists. The emerald would be the only thing to grace her ring finger.
Bran had intended to plan an elaborate scene to ask Raven to marry him. In the end, he decided she would love being surrounded only by her family and closest friends.
Ring box securedin his carry-on luggage, Bran was set to leave Oklahoma. The ring was everything he’d envisioned. Raven would surely love it too. Before boarding his flight to Maryland, he called Raven again. She told him she and her sisters planned to put in extra hours until he and his dad were home. Theyall wanted to unwind and enjoy the quiet time of the O’Faolain compound.
“I love you, babe. I’ll see you in a few days. I’ll call you tonight.”
“Have a safe flight, Bran. I can’t wait to show you some of the flower garden designs Nan has helped me with for your... our home. I love you. See you soon.”
Finally,Bran was home. Raven was slightly freaked out about how much she’d missed him. She’d been spending more time at the O’Connor’s residence than in Eufaula the last few weeks, and Jo had fast become the fourth Byrne sister. Raven had spoken with her sisters, and they were all agreed that the O’Faolains and O’Connors were like long-lost family.
She, River, Rowan, and Jo had stopped at an authentic Mexican grocery store in Tulsa before coming to Muskogee after work. They had the most amazing, marinated fajita meat, guacamole, queso, and Pico de Gallo. Plus, they had huge sacks of homemade tortilla chips and soft tortillas. The guys were going to bow down to their culinary awesomeness... Theyhadshopped for it...
Raven was at Bran’s house, having kissed her sisters goodnight.Theywere both content waiting for The One, but she wanted them to find their happily ever after— yesterday. River was best friends now with Patrick. They spoke every day, all day. She said they were just close friends. They could tell each other things. Raven knew it was more than that, at least on her sister’s end.
Rowan... she had always been a bit of a mystery. She still was. Something was going on with her youngest sister, but Ravenknew she would only hear of it when Rowan was good and ready to share.
Raven knew Bran would be home any minute. She was antsy, pacing, hot then cold. Frustrated with herself, Raven took a couple of water bottles, a bottle of whiskey, and glasses to the patio.
When one of the sliding bifold doors finally opened, Raven turned from pouring drinks. Bran stood highlighted in the dim interior lights. She stood, admiring all that white hair slipping into his eyes. He’d shaved more of his sides, similar to Patrick’s. He looked like a modern rendition of a Norse Viking, and when the light hit Bran’s dark eyes just right, there were tiny glints of gold around the edges. His tall, lean muscles were covered with charcoal joggers and a light grey t-shirt. Delicious.
“You’re home,” was all Raven’s brain could construct.
“I am.”
