“And I wouldn’t have you any other way.” She chuckled.
He knelt down to one knee.
Her brows shot up. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you with your heels,” he said, lifting her right foot. She braced her hand on his shoulder, balancing her weight as he slid one shoe off and then the other.
“Ready?’ he asked, getting back to his feet and holding out his hand.
She smiled. “Always.”
They walked a quarter mile along the shore, weaving between the ocean’s rippling edge and the sand dunes to their right.
The sun was just a sliver of orange peeking out from the horizon as it lowered in the sky, taking its warmth with it.
Brooke cuddled against his arm.
“Here,” he said, slipping his V-neck sweater over her emerald green dress.
“I must look quite hilarious,” she said as she fussed with the sweater’s hem.
“You look anything but,” he said, unable to keep his gaze off her.
“Noah?” she said after a moment.
“Yes?”
“Did you want to show me something?”
“Right,” he said, snapping himself out of his stare. “Just around the next dune.”
They followed the natural sloping curve of the beach, and as they rounded the six-foot sand dune, she stopped in her tracks. “Noah.” His name came out a breathless whisper.
The two sand “snowmen” he’d built stood there with scarfs around their necks, coal for buttons, reeds for arms, carrots for noses, Santa hats, and his second-favorite touch—sunglasses.
Brooke’s hands cupped her nose and mouth as she laughed into them.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, standing beside her.
“I love them.” Her laughter grew. “It’s my favorite Christmas gift of all time.”
“You might be jumping the gun.”
She frowned, confusion rippling across her furrowed brow.
“The snowmen aren’t the gift,” he said.
“I don’t understand. . . .”
“Take a closer look.”
Curiosity flickered in her eyes, before she moved to inspect the sand snowmen.
He watched, wanting to catch the exact moment she found the gift.
She stilled. “Noah . . . is that . . . ?”
That was his cue. He dropped to one knee.