“Yes,” I say, my voice thick with emotion and fresh tears spilling down my cheeks. “A million yeses. A trillion.”
“Damned happy to hear that.” He smiles his biggest, brightest smile as he slips the ring on my finger. “Don’t cry, baby.”
“I can’t help it,” I say. “All the words were amazing, and the ring is so beautiful. It’s perfect, Jamison. I love it so much.”
“The flower shape reminded me of you,” he says as he pulls me back into his arms, “and the flowers you wear in your hair.”
My hand flies to my head. “Oh my God. I forgot I had rollers in my hair! And no make-up on, and I’ve had this T-shirt since I was in eighth grade.”
Jamison grins wider. “You look hot. Kind of like that lady on the greeting cards who’s always in her bathrobe.”
“The cranky grandma?” I roll my eyes. “Thanks, Jamison. I always wanted to look like an annoyed geriatric when I was proposed to for the first time that really matters.”
His smile softens. “I like that.” He hugs me closer. “I like being the one who matters.”
I relax against him and twine my arms around his neck, unable to stay stressed about my appearance when he’s looking at me like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. “Well good, because it’s you and me from here on out. Once I dig my heels in, there’s no shaking me.”
“I don’t plan on trying to shake you,” he says. “At least not anywhere but on the dance floor tonight. You want to be my date to the reception?”
I grin. “Does a cranky grandma love her bathrobe?”
He laughs. “Good. I can’t wait to dance with you.”
“And I can’t wait to get you home after the dancing.” I press up on tiptoe to claim his lips for another kiss. And another, and another, until we’re both breathing fast and Jamison’s hands are wandering and I’m starting to think I might not be able to wait for tonight.
I’m about to pull him to my car and abduct him for a quickie when someone clears their throat behind us, and we startle apart.
“I guess she said yes!” Jamison’s father booms from the doorway, a twinkle in his eye that reminds me of his younger son.
“She did,” Jamison says, as I do my best to hide behind him, mortified to have been caught mid-make-out by my future father-in-law.
“Well, congratulations,” he says. “Hate to interrupt, but Jake sent me to check on you two. He said something about making sure you don’t run off together before he and Naomi get hitched.” His hazel eyes shift my way. “How are you, Maddie? Good to see you.”
I blush. “Hi, Mr. Hansen. I’m good.” I glance up at Jamison, fighting a grin. “Really good.”
“Glad to hear it.” He nods. “And welcome to the family. Not that you weren’t already family, but it’s nice to see my boys settling down with such fine women. They’re lucky men.”
“We are,” Jamison agrees, meeting my gaze before glancing back at his dad. “I’ll walk Maddie to her car, and be right in.”
“All right. See you soon, Maddie,” his dad says before disappearing into the house.
As soon as the door shuts behind him, Jamison and I both start laughing.
“I’ll never be able to look him in the eye without blushing again,” I say as we descend the steps. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“It’s all right.” He slips an arm around my waist. “Dad doesn’t care.”
“I care,” I say. “Your hand was halfway down my shorts. And that was no sweet kiss. I was getting ready to drag you off to my car and ravage you on an abandoned stretch of country road.”
He pauses on the sidewalk, turning to me with a look hot enough to melt butter. “Then let’s go.”
I shake my head, even as my pulse leaps. “We can’t. You promised you’d be right in.”
“I didn’t promise.” His other hand comes around me, pulling me in for a kiss as he backs me slowly toward the car.
“No,” I mumble against his lips. “We have to be good. At least until after the wedding.”
“Does that mean we get to skip the reception?” he asks, still kissing me between the words, making my head spin.
“No.” My fingers dig into his biceps. “But the venue is in the middle of nowhere. I’m sure we can find somewhere to sneak away to for a while.”
“Reception sex,” he says in an approving tone. “I like the way you think.”
“And I like the way you kiss,” I say, pushing him reluctantly away. “So we’d better stop before my irresponsible side takes over.”
He sighs. “All right.” He steps back, his eyes flicking up and down, taking me in with an intensity that makes me shift from one sneaker to the other.
“What?” I finally ask.
He shakes his head. “Nothing. Just memorizing how you looked the morning you agreed to be my wife.”