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Dane shifts in his seat, leaning back. “No.” He smiles stiffly.

She giggles. “Playing hard to get?”

His head tilts, cynicism written in his phony expression of amusement. I know what’s coming next, he’s gearing up for his country boy routine.

“I’m in love, darlin’. Love, love, love. I aim to be her husband and I’m a one-woman kinda guy. She’s life for me. Get it?”

Love? My knees almost buckle.

“I’m just looking for a little fun. Nothing more,” she fake whines.

I watch with rapt attention as the blonde walks her fingers up his thigh. His hand shoots out and wraps around her slender wrist, stopping her progress to his groin. It’s then I notice the big rock she’s wearing, so large it’s hanging off to the side of her hand.

“I said no,” he grinds out, his jaw ready to crumble under the pressure.

I know this man. I know what’s in his heart. I know what’s in his soul. I didn’t need proof of his devotion, but I’m not going to lie, it feels damn good to witness.

He scoffs, eyes narrowed at her. “You know, it’s women like you that made me lose faith in all women.”

“Then why get married? It’s obvious you’re not the marrying type,” she says in a voice that screams let’s stop talking and get naked. “No offense.”

Pushing her off, he stands. Legs squared, body rigid, he looks even bigger, his anger fueling a growth spurt.

“’Cause she restored it. And you’re right about me not being the marrying type. I’ve never even been remotely tempted until I met her.” He yanks the makeup bib from around his neck and throws it down on the chair.

I step into the doorway and they both turn to face me. At any other time in my life I would’ve been mildly uncomfortable standing before this attractive woman sporting the pooch, the demented hair, and the ratty sweatshirt. But not today, not anymore. Because today the man she was trying to seduce is staring at me with such undisguised lust and longing on his gorgeous freaking face that it makes me want to weep. As a matter of fact, here come the tears.

The blonde, whoever she is, puts two and two together and lowers her eyes in guilt. “Excuse me,” she mutters, scooting past me and out of his dressing room.

The world suddenly gets small, only him and me and the love between us. The air crackling with anticipation, with the promise of something magical.

I’m a pragmatist, always have been. I’m not prone to bouts of whimsy. I don’t harbor any romantic notions. But this moment…I’m pretty sure it’s moments such as this one that incited Rumi, and Neruda, and Helen Fielding to write.

The weight of Dane’s stare keeps me anchored in place while he slowly walks toward me.

“It’s true. All of it.” The rasp. The rasp is back. “I’m not playin’ with you anymore. This Mexican standoff ends right now.” His hand slashes through the air. “I’m crazy about you. I’m thirty-five years old and I…” He sucks in a breath, hand over his heart, nostrils flaring. “I’m in love for the first time in my life. I’ve…I’ve never felt like thiii––”

I launch myself, hooking my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, holding back nothing. There’s no way I can wait another minute to hug him and kiss him and shower him with love. There’s no man more deserving.

While his hands grip my ass, squeezing and pressing me against the growing bulge under his trousers, I sink my hands in his hair and kiss him with everything I’ve got. For being the man I never could’ve imagined he could be. For being everything I want and need. For being mine and only mine.

“I’m thirty-four years old and I’m in love for the first time in my life…” I manage to say, voice cracking. “And I’m crazy about you too.”

The tension drains out of his body. He kisses me then. Soft and sweet. So sweet.

“I can carry the load, Dane. I can do it all by myself––”

“I know you can, baby,” he murmurs close to my lips. Dane’s thumb gently runs across my cheek, wiping away the last of my tears. “You’re my Wonder Woman.”

“But I don’t want to,” I’m quick to add. “I really don’t want to.”

“And you don’t have to. Let me carry your load.”

If it were at all possible for me to love this man any more right now, I would. Which it isn’t. Not when he already owns all of me. Every hope and desire, every fear and insecurity. I’ve turned them all over to him, to remain in his safekeeping for as long as he wants them. And I hope it’s forever.

“Okay,” I say, exhaling all the worry I’ve been carrying since the moment he proposed. “And I’ll carry some of yours.”

“That’s a great plan,” he replies, his deep voice loaded with dry amusement. “We’ll carry each other’s loads.”

Laughter rises up, as it always does when I’m with him. Because he’s taught me to find joy where I never saw any before. To be present in the moment. I don’t want to miss anything…not when I’m having the time of my life.

He grins, wide, bright and full of hope. His lips are about a hair’s breadth from pressing against mine when he stops. “I love you. I love you so much, Stel. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” I say holding his precious face in my hands. “Even though it’ll make me sound like a porn star, I’d be honored to be your Mrs. Wylder. No hyphens necessary.”

A dark-blond eyebrow arches wickedly. “Speaking of which, let’s go home and practice.”

“Don’t you have to shoot your segment?”

“I’m not cut out to sit behind a desk.”

“Then I’d love nothing more.” My fingers rake through his stubborn hair. He breathes in deeply, his lashes fluttering. “Except you, baby,” I happily admit. “I love you the most.”

“Glad that’s settled. Now be still while I kiss you.”

And I do as I’m told. Because this man is worth it.

Epilogue

Stella

I hear, “Hmm,” coupled with a deep exhale. Big hands squeeze my boobs, which are ridiculously swollen and sensitive. I bite my bottom lip and breathe through it, preparing myself for what comes next. A hard, long object rubs up against my butt.

“Dane, wake up.”

More masculine grunting. The hand moves down…down…down…his fingers brush back and forth between my legs and now I’m sweating and panting. I don’t want to be turned on. I don’t have time to be turned on. This is the big day and there’s lots to do. Those same busy fingers exploring between my legs push down my underwear.

“Mashmmmummfff.”

“Dane––wake up.”

“Wuuu?”

“Are you awake?”

“Hmm, am now.”

“You almost impaled me in your sleep again.”

“Mmm, I did?” Those fingers get busy again and a soft kiss mysteriously lands on my neck. I chuckle and he scoots closer, rolling his hips against my butt. The man has many talents but lying isn’t one of them.

“We can’t. We don’t have time.”

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