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27
I laugh, slipping into Saint’s jacket as he tries in vain to get the dirt off his pants. I shredded the back of his shirt. “It looks like you got attacked by a damned mountain lion, or maybe a wolverine. I’m sorry, it seems I owe you a buttondown.”
“Like I said, more clothes in the truck, they just won’t—uh be as nice.”
“You made your good impression. It’s not your fault your woman didn’t get a manicure and shredded you because you fucked her so good.”
“Ole Lady, you’re my ole lady. That’s what we call em.”
I give him a pointed look. “Calling myself your woman was a stretch, call me your ole lady again, and I may have to strap you to the bed and pound you till you cry for mercy. Something tells me at least one of them girls is kinky enough to help me get fitted for a nice fat dildo.”
“Doc. Do you need me to show you what’s mine? I’ve not disrespected you. Ole Lady is a term of endearment. So stop pushing me. We’ve finally fucked the anger out.”
I purse my lips taking long-legged strides straight to him. I smile, tracing my nail along his jawline and catching the slightest bit of stubble. “I won’t poke the bear anymore, today anyway. I promise to be a good little bunny.” I snake my arms around him tenderly. “I love you, which is why I poked. Worry when I stop busting your chops.”
“I love you too, Doc. I’m sorry I went full alpha with Finn. They fucking kept it from me because they knew I’d be against it.”
“Well, be against me, come on. I’m starving.” Lacing my fingers with his, I pull him back the way we came. Leaning into him, I keep feeling what I assume is his gun knocking into my ribs. I stop, and he pulls ahead of me to grab my skirt. I reach into the inside pocket of his jacket, trying to find what’s hitting me as I realize it’s way too small and light to actually be a gun. Finding the pocket, I reach down inside, the lining is torn, so I have to fish a bit. I feel something hard, but like velvet, it’s too small to be anything but a ring box. I freeze, my ears tuning out Saint as he’s saying something. I’m sure my eyes are round as saucers.
“Hey Doc, what’s up?” Saint cups my face making me look at him.
My lip quivers as I reveal the purple velvet box. It sits in the palm of my hand as I look from it to him and back again. “Ex—explain.” I croak out. I can already feel my eyes beginning to burn. Please be earrings. I don't think I’m ready… Am I? I want to have his babies…
“Well, it’s—Fuck! This is not how this was supposed to go. Goddamnit, Doc, can’t ya make anything easy on me?” Saint shakes his head, dropping to his knee. “See that box that your holding has been passed down through the Westmoreland line since back in King Arthur’s time, or so the story goes. I was told that when the right one came along, my heart and soul would know before my head. I’ve been carrying the ring around for a couple of days now. I guess waiting for the right time or some shit like that. We both know I’m not romantic. I’m fucking crass and more liable to eat you than say I love you on any given day. But I do. Ciara does. You love my little girl. I see it in your eyes every fucking time you look at her. Would you do me the honor of being my wife and her momma and help me raise her, and how many more you decide we need to bring into this crazy fucked up world?”
“Saint.” I swallow as the first tear falls. “I want to say yes, I plan to, but you may take it back after I tell you something. Something only two people know. Something that may change how you feel.” I have to tell him the truth. He deserves to know.
Saint drops his head and shakes it before standing. “What is it, Doc? What else could you possibly tell me that you think will make me run?”
“I—I lied to you.” It’s barely a whisper as I pass the box to him. I can’t even look at it. Not yet.
“What do you mean you lied to me?”
The tenor of his voice has gone flat, and for a moment, I want to take it back. I want to not tell him. “I’m not-not a momma.”
“What?”
“When I told you I was no one’s momma, it was something of a lie. Yet not exactly.” He won’t look at me. I position myself under his chin, breaking into his bubble. “Tobey thinks I had my tubes tied as a precaution. My father thought I had the abortion.” I look him in the eyes. “I couldn’t do it. But I also couldn’t keep her. I gave my baby away, so I’m no one’s momma, but I am a mother.”
Saint’s eyes close, and I can feel the steam rolling off of him before I’m lifted, and his head is in my neck. “Don’t. You. Ever. Fucking. Scare. Me. Like. That. Again! I’m sorry you gave your child up. With everything, you told me it was probably for the best, but if you want her back, we can get her back. I will help you. Ciara might be a bit jealous, and we’d need a bigger house, but Darlin, you are mine. Meaning your family is mine too.”
“Don’t say that if you don't mean it,” I say as my face is kissed. “I don’t have much contact, but she knows of me. I just—I wasn’t strong enough to keep her. She was born with her father’s—our father’s eyes.” I hug him tighter. “Yes.” I finish softly.
“Darlin’ don’t ever keep something from me, even if you’re afraid I will fly off the deep end. I may, but that’s because I fly hot, but with you, you’re more. I won’t hurt you. I promise. You have me. You have my guns. All you have to do is say where you need me, and Darlin’, I’m there. I’m just a call or room away. Always.”
“I—I—just kiss me and put that ring on me, and I suppose you can officially call me your old lady.”
“Ole-O-L-E. Doc, never Old.”
“Whatever, I’m yours.”
