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“You should always bring your glasses. You’re hot in glasses. But if you need to borrow mine, you can. I’m wearing my contacts tonight.” She grins back at me with such pure joy it makes me smile so hard my jaw starts to ache.
We did it. We had a hard conversation, emotions were running high, and the world didn’t come to an end. We didn’t crash and burn, neither of us made a run for it, and I don’t have a belly full of regret.
In fact, I feel happier, more hopeful, and closer to her than ever before.
She loves me. I love her.
We said the words out loud and we’re still us, just…better.
“Should we tell the others that we’re dating this weekend?” I ask. “Or wait until we get back in the office next week?”
She stops in front of the door to the lodge, eyes flashing as she arches a brow. “Dating? Is that all? With all the talk about baby names and making marriage work, I thought we were a little farther along than that. I was half expecting you to pull a ring from your pocket.”
I feel my face tighten and my eyes bulge.
Wren breaks into a belly laugh and squeezes my hand. “I’m just kidding, Barrett. Don’t have a heart attack. I doubt they have a defibrillator around here. We can tell them whenever you think it’s best. I don’t have a preference. I’m just happy.” She stretches up on tiptoe, pressing a kiss to my cheek.
I rest a hand on her lower back. “Me, too.”
She reaches for the door, and we step into a warmly lit room filled with circular tables in the middle, a stage on the left, and a now-empty buffet set up on the right. Native American artwork hangs on the walls and a beautiful older woman with silver braids in a pink linen dress greets us from one of the closer tables, where she’s seated with a few of the camp guests, who must also have been interested in a lesson.
We settle into two empty chairs and are given a small bag of supplies, but I find it impossible to focus on the instructions. I’m too busy thinking about what Wren said and how wrong she was.
That wasn’t my “about to have a heart attack” look.
That was my “why didn’t I think of that?” look.
Not tonight, obviously. Not tomorrow or next week, but as soon as enough time has passed to prove that we can make this couple thing work, I’m not going to hesitate.
I’ve already wasted enough time.
I don’t want to waste another second.
I want this woman to be my first and last do-over, from now until death do us part.
Chapter Eighteen
WREN
Just one bed.
There’s just one bed in our room and the couch isn’t big enough for me to sleep on, let alone Barrett.
Which means we’re going to share that one bed. And we’re going to do it naked and close, and when we’re finished being naked and close, neither one of us is going to run away.
The thought of what awaits us at the end of our beading lesson splits my focus, but I leave an hour later with a better understanding of Ojibwe jewelry making, a lovely pair of beaded butterfly wing earrings, and my man.
Mine.
He’s really mine. I can feel it in the air as we get into his truck and head back to the bed-and-breakfast. There’s no more resistance, no more fear, just the certainty that we’re on the right path and there’s no chance we’re turning back now.
“Do I get to call you my boyfriend?” I ask as we pull into the parking spot closest to our room.
Barrett glances my way. “Unless you’d rather call me something else. Stay there, I want to open your door.”
“Like what?” I tease once he’s circled around and opened the passenger’s side door. “My lover boy?”
“I’m no boy,” he says, scooping me out of the seat and into his arms.
“No, you’re not,” I agree as he kicks the door closed behind me. I push at his chest with a soft laugh, “You have to put me down.”
“I don’t,” he says, starting toward the building.
“You’re going to climb three flights of stairs carrying a woman who’s perfectly capable of walking? What if someone sees us?”
“I don’t care what people see, and I need the exercise,” he says, pushing through the door and starting up the first flight with impressive speed. “I’m hoping it will take the edge off.”
“What edge is that?” I ask, mesmerized by the intensity in his eyes as he starts up the second flight, barely out of breath.
“The edge that I’m afraid is going to make me come in five minutes,” he whispers, sending a sizzle across my skin. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Since the second I left your house that night. I wish I’d stayed.”
