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I just asked Mia Brandt to marry me.
Okay. So he’d told her. There had been absolutely no asking involved. If they’d been genuinely engaged, she’d have held it over his head for the next fifty years or so, and he wouldn’t have blamed her.
Cal’s next text was short and pithy: Wow.
Yeah. That, too. The thing was, Mia was more than a convenient coconspirator. Sure, she was a good sport about his surprise announcement, and sleeping with her was flat-out incredible. In fact, if he was being honest with himself, Mia herself was pretty incredible. She was tough and funny, and he loved the way she was determined to live her life.
Fast work. You sure about this?
Yep. He’d pretty much lost his mind.
Sure? Not in a million years.
In it for the long haul? That wasn’t him.
He’d also never looked for the easy out before. Becoming a rescue swimmer hadn’t been a walk in the park. He’d had to try twice before he’d succeeded. Some men got it in one; others tried three and four times and still didn’t make it to the end of the course. While he hadn’t rung out, he’d failed. So he’d picked himself up and tried again.
Piper wants to know if you set a date. And if you got down on one knee.
Hell no. It’s a fake engagement Gets M.J.’s granny off my back, he texted back. He felt the grin tug at his mouth. Getting down on his knees in front of Mia would be a mistake. She might be bossy and stubborn, but she also got to him in ways he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just her sexy outside—although he definitely loved looking at her. Nope. It was something about the woman inside. Of course, she also spouted orders better than any drill sergeant he’d ever had, and that was a problem because he didn’t do orders. Or edicts, suggestions or direct commands.
And, if they both needed to be in charge, he didn’t know where that left them.
8
AN HOUR LATER, Mia was officially in love. The cottage was absolutely perfect, other than a few minor cosmetic issues. And a desperate need for a new roof. On a scale of one to ten, where one was move-in ready and ten was a total tear-down, the cottage scored closer to ten than she liked, but the place was worth it. It felt...right.
She turned to the Realtor. “Can you give us a few minutes alone?”
M.J. beamed, clearly scenting blood in the water. Or her six and a half percent commission. “Sure,” she said. “Flip the lock on your way out and take all the time you want. When you’re ready to make an offer, you’ve got my card. I could start the paperwork now even, and then you could swing by later this afternoon and sign it. Just give me a yes.”
As soon as Mia had landed stateside after her last tour, she’d shipped right back out. She was the last person who knew anything about sticking. About permanency. And yet she knew she wanted this. This cottage. This life in this place.
“It seems to be my day to say yes.” She elbowed Tag, and he grunted.
M.J. left with a chipper wave, stopping to coo at the kittens in their carrier. Apparently, she wasn’t able to resist all the furry cuteness. Mia felt marginally better about her own momentary weakness.
She pointed to the departing agent. “You’ve got new home number one right there, if you close the sale.”
“I’m not worried about the kittens. M.J. will definitely take one, and I’ll find homes for the rest.” He stamped on the floor in front of the fireplace. “The wood’s soft here.”
She eyed the spot he was pointing to, but it looked normal enough. The hardwood was a warm honey color, streaked and pitted with all the living that had happened in the cottage. Leaded glass fronted the bookcases flanking the fireplace, and a big picture window looked out toward the ocean. Despite the gazillion trees between the house and the water, she could just spot a sliver of blue. She’d get two armchairs and put them right there. She didn’t need two chairs, seeing as how she was a party of one, but it would look nice. She could sit and stare at the waves. Almost.
“You really want to make an offer on this place?” He poked a windowsill, and his finger sank through the soft, pliant wood.
She really did, although admitting the truth out loud seemed like a guaranteed jinx. Instead, she went for the deflection. “What’s up with this engagement of ours?”
“Surprised you, huh?
She arched a brow. They both knew he hadn’t genuinely meant what he’d said. And it didn’t matter if a little flicker of happiness had shot through her thinking about the two of them as a long-term couple. It was just he’d hit on her weakness. She wanted a normal relationship, one not broken up by tours of duty and temporary base housing.
