He fishes two towels out of the bag and unwraps wineglasses. I stand in awe as he sets it all up on a little foldable tray he pulls out of the other bag.
“This is quite a spread, cowboy. Kind of makes me think this isn't your first time doing this up here.” I work to suppress the inappropriate pang of jealousy.
“I've never been on a picnic with a woman, Duchess, never mind one as beautiful as you. I can’t handle romantic complications, so this… this is just for us.”
“That’s…maybe the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.”
He huffs a laugh. “You need to find some people to give you better compliments.”
“I found you.” I flinch when I realize that it sounds like I’m laying claim to him for good, so I immediately backpedal. “I mean?—”
He smiles. “When you say something perfect, just let it be perfect.”
My pulse races. A crow flies overhead and caws at us, zooming off over the valley just as quickly. We share a long look. I didn't intend for my comment to evoke something so intense, and I worry that he’s reading something into my words even though they’re true. But I want to be honest.
“I feel lucky that you're going to be the father of this baby,” I say. “I know neither one of us planned this, and I really appreciate that you’re willing to do this with me.”
He closes his eyes for a long beat.
When he opens them, they’re soft and unfocused. He clears his throat and looks away. I start to worry I’ve said too much, but then he picks up my hand and interlaces our fingers.
“I know you’re someone who likes a plan… I don’t know how fate made me a part of yours, but maybe there’s a reason you happened to come up here on your birthday. Maybe there’s a reason I went out to the Hitching Post that night. I hadn’tbeen there in months. Do you believe in divine intervention, Duchess?”
“I don't know if I’d go that far. But I do believe in luck. I believe you have to be open to it if you ever hope to find it. And sometimes you have to make your own luck out of the opportunities you get.”
“I think that’s called being an optimist.” He leans in, his gaze thoughtful and a little intense with the weight of what he’s saying.
“Not how most people would describe me.” I look down, wishing I could be different. I love that maybe he sees something optimistic in me that even I don’t notice. I want to believe he sees the truth.
“I think you care for people and look for the best. Probably what makes you a good lawyer and a good sister. But does it ever get to be too much? Where’s the line you won’t cross, where you protect yourself from what everyone else wants you to do?” His jaw tightens ever so slightly, and he glances down. He could be talking about himself.
“I…” I shake my head, unsure how to respond honestly to a question I’ve never asked myself.
His gaze reconnects with mine, his sincerity unmistakable. “You can lean on me, Duchess. That’s all I’m saying. Now that you have me, I’m yours. For whatever you need. The baby too.”
My pulse quickens again at his words. They’re exactly what I’ve never dared dream that a man would say to me, yet…here he is, telling me he’s mine. Except…that he only means that in terms of co-parenting and supporting my needs so we can give our child a good life.
A passel of butterflies bounces along from a flower-covered bush and scatters into the air around us. The distraction succeeds in making me stop overthinking what Fitz may or may not have meant.
He’s finished setting up our picnic. Everything is laid out like it’s ready for a photo shoot, with butterflies still flitting around. Fitz gestures for me to sit on the blanket, where he’s placed a small bouquet of yellow wildflowers that are growing on the hill just below us. I sit cross-legged, and he tucks a second rolled blanket into my lap. “In case you get cold.”
“You do come prepared.”
“Like a Boy Scout.” He puts an arm around me, and it's comfortable. Like something one of my sisters would do in order to share a little body warmth and enjoy the view. But let's be real. I don't have any other male friends who would take me up on a sunset horseback ride, set up a beautiful picnic, and make me feel this peaceful. I shouldn’t like it as much as I do because we live in different worlds.
For now, though, I tip my head against his shoulder and stare out at the incredible view. The sky shimmers in shades of pink and orange and gold.
“This place is showing off for us,” he says. “Like it knew I wanted to impress you.”
“You don’t need to impress me.” I consider whether to ask him more questions. If I can’t be bold and ask for what I want right now, how will I be able to do that when we have a child together? “But I do want to know more about you.”
“Yeah. Sure. Guess you should know a few things. As to the land around here, some of it came to me from my parents—my mom, really, who inherited it from her dad. He was a rancher and bought the land here when it was dirt cheap, and nobody wanted to be out here. There was no chance of growing anything. We lucked out, though, and found the rights to some water, which allowed us to develop our land, feed the animals, and plant on it. And that was the plan.”
“Where are your parents now?”
“My dad died. Acute liver failure.” He shoves a hand in his hair and looks upward like maybe he’s debating whether to elaborate. But he doesn’t. “My mom remarried and moved up north. I only see her a couple of times a year.”
His lips snap shut, and a muscle in his jaw ticks. I take the nugget of information and don’t press for more.
