With the number of questions people have asked and the way we’ve been hounded by friends and family, it might as well be ten years.
Bliss shrugs. “I’ve really enjoyed having free labor.” She grins at me, and both dimples show.
I shake my head and fight a smile. Part of our “dating” has been me helping her pick up her orders in town. Throwing mineral bags and stacking mag blocks and boxes of medicine in the back of her truck with her. Going out to her parents’ and helping her with her ewes. I never want to trim another sheep hoof again. My back is sore beyond belief. Yet I’m still planning on marrying her.
“We should get engaged.”
Bliss shakes her head. “One more week?”
I take a step toward her. Her eyes go wide, but she doesn’t step back.
I reach for her hand. “Bliss, I know this isn’t a regular marriage, but it’s not like I’ll stop helping you when it’s official. I’ll be around if you need an extra set of hands for things.”
“That’s nice, because I need to blood-test my rams for brucellosis in a couple of weeks.” She raises her eyebrows and stares at me, daring me to say something about it.
I study the slender hand in mine. She’s wiry and tough. She’s beautiful, sassy, and not interested in a conventional relationship with me.
My chest aches at the thought—but I don’t dwell on why.
Instead, I smile and fish around in my pocket for the box. I find it and pull it out.
Bliss flexes her hand, squeezing my fingers.
“Are you still okay with this?” I ask as I flip open the box with my free hand.
“I’m nervous,” she admits.
“It’s not going to change anything. You’re free to do whatever you want. We’ll just be married.” I stare at the ring in the box. “You might have other things you want to try—and I’ll support you. You’re young still.”
“You’re not, though,” she muses with a cheeky grin.
I give her hand a little tug so that we’re only standing a couple of inches apart. Raising my eyebrows, I stare down at her. “If you’re going to start with the grandpa jokes because of our age difference, I’m going to be forced to take drastic measures.”
She presses her lips together, as though she’s trying to keep her comments to herself.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I hold up the open ring box. “Will you marry me?”
She glances down at the ring, then back at me. “Sure.”
She takes it from the box and studies it. It’s a flat set ring with small diamonds all around the band.
“I asked them to set the diamond in the band so that you won’t have to worry about catching it on equipment or getting it snagged in wool.”
She looks up at me, her eyes glistening. “That’s actually the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me.”
I watch her in surprise as she studies the ring. I did not imagine Bliss, of all people, getting emotional at my proposal. Especially considering the circumstances.
But as she stares at the ring, I see a tear slip from the corner of her eye.
I reach out and catch the tear with my thumb.
She rubs at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m being weird.”
“Doesn’t bother me.”
Actually, it does. It’s making my chest do some weird lurching thing.
“It’s just that you got me a ring that I can actually wear and fits with what I love to do. And I really, really appreciate it.”
