Page 115 of Good Directions

“Yeah…” Reaching up, she cups my face, running a thumb across my cheek. A shiver zips down my spine, despite the humid temps, proving how much this woman owns me. “Much.”

“Good.”

Sawyer slides out of the truck, holding on to my arms, peering around me and taking in her surroundings. “The original grove?”

Back to the accusations masquerading as questions…

“Yup.”

I link our hands, not saying another word, and lead her down one of the aisles. A soft breeze blows, rustling the leaves, the faint smell of fruit filling the air.

“This is going to sound silly, but I think this is my favorite of the groves,” Sawyer says, going with it. “I know I shouldn’t play favorites, and please don’t tell the others. Especially the saplings.”

“Ha!” I guffaw. “Don’t tell me you don’t play favorites, because I know you have a favorite tree, Sawyer Brown.”

Sawyer stops, crossing her arms and pretending to be upset that I called her out. “Look, just because you’re jealous of my relationship with Clyde…”

“One, I am not jealous of anyone—much less a sapling—named Clyde,” I tell her, uncrossing her arms and wrapping them around my waist. Cupping her face in my hands, I kiss her softly, nibbling on her bottom lip so she knows exactly how not jealous I am. “And two, I still can’t believe you named the tree Clyde.”

“Cary informed me I was not allowed to call a peach tree Birch Reynolds.”

“So you went with Clyde?”

“He’s the orange ghost in Pac-Man. It made sense in my head!”

I laugh, kissing her again. Fuck, do I love this woman. Everything about her, from the way she takes things too seriously, to how she bosses me around, to the silly side only I get to see. Her love of science and knowing how things work is second only to helping those around her, and watching her become a part of Hickory Hills—and my family—has been amazing.

More than that, being allowed into her world has been even better. With each passing day, it’s clearer to me that she’s exactly who I’m meant to be with. And this life that we’re creating together is perfect.

Taking her hand again, I lead her deeper into the grove, my heart starting to race as we approach the stump. I want everything to be perfect, just like her.

“My little know-it-all, knowing all the ghosts’ names in Pac-Man,” I tease, knowing exactly which button it’s going to push. In my head it’s small, purple, and just under her left arm along her rib cage—why, I don’t know, but that’s how I picture it every time I push this one.

“I held the high score at Penny’s Arcade for years!”

Right on time…

She reacts exactly the way I expect, her brows furrowing, her voice taking on the very specific pitch, as she turns to glare at me. I hit that purple button dead-on.

“Actually, I still might for all I know,” she mumbles.

“I’m aware; you’ve shown me. And it’s oddly impressive.” I stop, slipping in front of her, cutting off her view and stealing a kiss. “Okay, time to close your eyes again, just for a minute.”

Sawyer nods, doing as I ask. Stepping behind her, I cover her eyes with my hands, guiding her the rest of the way to the clearing, where everything is all set up. A knot forms in my stomach, twisting and turning, my own nerves kicking in. I’ve fucked up a lot of things in life, and this cannot be one of them.

“Ready?” I whisper into her ear, dropping my hands. “You can open them now.”

Sawyer gasps, hands flying to her face. I slide to the side, giving her a moment to take it all in. The custom-made half-Georgia, half-Alabama picnic blanket is decorated with flickering battery-operated candles, miscellaneous chocolates handmade by Tizzy, and an unmarked bottle chilling in an ice bucket, the setting summer sun behind it, framing it just right.

“Anton!”

“C’mere.” I take her hand, pulling her down onto the blanket, my mind racing with what to start with first. Chocolates? Kisses? Cuddles? No…I know. “Drink?”

“Is…is that what I think it is?”

I nod, loving the excitement in her voice. Doesn’t matter that there isn’t a label; she already knows.

“It’s your peach wine.”