Page 165 of Falling for the Enemy

“Jocelyn Collins⁠—”

“Oh, God.” Her breath caught, and she wobbled. “I need to sit down.” Without thinking, she lowered to the flagstone and rubbed her temples. “Sorry. I haven’t eaten, and everything started spinning.”

“You good?”

She nodded. “Yes. Go on.”

“Jocelyn, you’re my best friend and the only person I can imagine spending the rest of my life with and never getting bored. If you agree to marry me, I grant you permission to boss me around and break my balls for the rest of your life.”

“You live for that.”

“I do. And I promise to let you win ninety percent of all the stupid arguments we have, as long as you keep offering makeup sex and never compare me to Torvald the Iron-Cock or any of your other ergonomically gifted fictional Viking men.”

She laughed. If only he knew that it was the Vikings who couldn’t measure up to him.

“King has been absolutely lost without Cordelia these last few days. We want our ladies back with us. Forever. To Stay.” He pulled the ring from the box.

“Oh, shit.”

“Don’t interrupt.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did, but that doesn’t matter.”

“If it doesn’t matter, why bring it up?”

“I wasn’t. I’m just trying to propose.”

“Well…get on with it.”

He scoffed. “Such a brat. Jocelyn Elizabeth Collins,” he rushed out. “I want you as more than a best friend. Will you be my wife?”

Time held still and for once, she was right there in the moment, watching it happen. It was perfect and beautiful, and her best friend wanted to marry⁠—

“Well?”

She flinched at his sharp tone, then realized she hadn’t answered. “Oh. Yes! Of course, I’ll marry you.”

He yanked her close and slid the ring onto her finger, sealing the deal with a kiss. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest, and all the anger she’d been hiding behind vanished in the blink of an eye.

“I’m never letting you go again.” He cradled her face and glided his fingers into her hair. “What the…?” He unearthed a pencil from the rat’s nest of a bun on her head, and her face burned with embarrassment.

“Sorry.” Up until that moment, she forgot what she looked like. “It’s been a rough few days.”

He stretched to look more closely at her hair. “What else do you have in there?”

“It’s anyone’s guess. Honestly, you probably shouldn’t touch me until I shower.”

“That’s not happening.”

“Three days, Soren. Three days.”

“Yeah.” He stood and helped her up. “You should shower.”

She’d never gotten clean so fast. Soren waited for her out back. The second she returned, smelling like his soap, wrapped in his plush robe, he sat up.

“I know that look.” She crossed the flagstone and lowered herself onto the chair across from him.