Page 140 of The Golden Scoop

Phew.

That view never gets old.

“You’re looking well rested, Mr. Hunt,” I say before hanging up.

Matt waits until I’ve parked before opening my car door, a habit he’s insisted on ever since forcing me to install them again.

“I needed all the energy I could muster to deal with you tonight.”

He smirks, hands reaching around my waist, and lifts me effortlessly from the seat. My fingers slip into his hair as I rise onto my toes to kiss him.

“We only have about an hour until Julia and Harrison get here,” I murmur against his lips.

“Plenty of time for our game,” Matt says, threading his fingers through mine as he leads me inside. “Go change into your overalls. I’ll get some snacks ready.”

I roll my eyes.

“Are they a requirement?”

“Do you even have to ask, Mills?” he counters, slapping my ass as I walk past.

“It’s not going to matter because you’re not gonna win!” I call from the bedroom.

Our little competition has become my favorite part of the week. I change out of my work clothes at superhuman speed and hurry downstairs to meet him in the garden.

Matt’s put on his cream-colored linen shirt. No distractions allowed. He’s sprinkling some olives over a plate of chips. Ben introduced us to the Spanish delicacy, and we’ve been obsessed ever since.

“Set us up,” he says, handing me the blue box.

I settle into my chair across from him and scatter the tiles all over the table. Today’s my chance. With a little luck on the first draw, I’ll have this in the bag.

One by one, I flip them around when⁠—

“What’s this?” I pick up the tile with a large ‘A’ written on the back of it.

Matt shrugs, but the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth gives him away.

I swear, if he’s trying to sabotage my winning streak…

More letters appear as I keep turning over the tiles.

Two Rs, an E, a question mark, an M.

My pulse stutters.

There’s no way.

With trembling fingers, I gather the tiles and rearrange them in order.

Marry me?

When I look up, Matt’s down on one knee.

A black velvet box rests in his hand, open to reveal the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.

“Matthew,” I breathe.

My hands are shaking so hard I have to curl them into fists. I don’t know whether I want to scream, cry, or laugh. This infuriatingly charming, utterly frustrating man is actually asking me to marry him.