Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
He chuckled. The closer we’d gotten to the grand opening, the more anxious I’d become. Even though we’d already received tremendous press and rave reviews, a part of me was still waiting for something to go wrong. My life felt too perfect. I wasn’t sure how I got to be so lucky.
“It turned out better than I’d imagined,” he said. “I mean, I knew your vision for the place was strong, but seeing how it all came together. You’ve got a real talent, Sawyer.”
My blush deepened. “Thanks,” I mumbled.
“Have you given any thought to expanding the business? Finding another place to renovate?” he asked. It had been something we’d begun discussing over the winter, and the idea made a lot of sense. We had the capital, we had every indication that the formula for renovating old niche inns would work, but I was still hesitant.
Right now I had other priorities.
I turned to face him, and he kept his arms wrapped around me, holding me close. “I do think that’s a direction we should definitely go in. But I’m not sure I want to tackle another project just yet. Especially since there are a few other things I want to do first.”
James raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
I trailed a finger down his chest, taking a moment to steady my nerves. “Well, I’ve had a few ideas about some changes I’d like to make to the house plans.”
He seemed surprised, which made sense. We’d spent quite a while working on the renovation plans for the house and were set to begin work in a couple of weeks once things with the Sea Sprite settled into place. “Like what?”
“Well, first I thought we should add a fence.”
It wasn’t a suggestion he’d been expecting. “Sure, that should be easy.”
“A white picket one,” I added. “And the guest room upstairs, I think we should use that room for something else.”
“You mean like an office?”
“I mean like a nursery.”
He thought about it for a second. “That makes sense, especially since Karlie’s over here so often. I’m sure she would appreciate it.”
I smiled. As smart as James was, sometimes he could be a little slow to catch on. It was one of the things I loved about him.
“No,” I said, pressing my palm flat against his chest, over his heart. “I mean for us.”
He blinked. Then his eyes went wide. “You mean—”
I stepped back and slid down to one knee, taking his hand in mine. “I mean, James Kennedy Allen, will you do me the honor of joining your life with mine forever? I want the picket fence. I want to have children with you and raise them here on our bluff with Brant, Karlie, Davey, and my uncles surrounding us. I want—”
James fell to his knees in the sand in front of me, gathering my hands against his chest. “Yes,” he said in a breathy whisper. “God, yes. Yes to all of it.”
We stared at each other for a long moment, not needing words or action or anything else to convey our love to each other. It was a force that existed between us, as dependable and steady as gravity. Tears glistened in his eyes as he cupped my cheeks and pulled me toward him for a soft kiss. His taste was as familiar as the feel of the Cape Cod sun on my skin. His touch was as welcome as the tide. James was now a part of McBride and the Sea Sprite as much as I ever was.
I pulled back, breathless. My heart was racing, every nerve on fire. I couldn’t help but laugh, I was so full of joy.
James’s grin was huge and contagious. “Did we just get engaged?”
I reached in the back pocket of my shorts and pulled out two platinum bands, holding them up so they glinted in the setting sun. “Need proof?”
James’s hands went to his mouth, and his eyes darted between me and the wedding bands. Suddenly, his eyes filled with tears. “Really? This is really real? You really want to marry me?”
I took one of his hands and pulled it away from his mouth so I could slide the cool band in place. “I think I’ve wanted to marry you since you snuck a pervy glance at my ass in the bar that first night.”
“Shut up,” he said with a laugh, half-heartedly slapping my chest. The ring caught the sinking sun again, and he gazed at it. “Holy shit.”
We were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a cork popping. I turned to see Karlie, Wells, Conor, Ana Lucia, my uncles, and several close friends from town coming down the steps to the beach, champagne flutes in hand. Even Brantley was there with his camera, snapping away. I realized the Lovejoys hadn’t been the ones with the sunset portraits scheduled after all.