eyes, walking back to the register. “If that’s the case, I’m seriously sorry to have to let you know you just sound jealous.”
My words send the chill I was hoping for. They turn on their heels toward the front door just as Hartley appears with a bag of food in hand. As the women pass him, they let him know exactly what they think of me.
“Your mail-order bride is a real piece of work,” Dylan says. “So good luck with that.”
They leave, the bells on the door jingling after them.
I bite back my emotions, feeling so many things all at once. Embarrassment, anger, fear.
And even though I want this to work… it’s impossible not to question whether Hartley does.
Chapter Nine
Hartley
“What in the hell was that about?” I ask, placing the food on the counter.
“It was about the fact you’ve gained quite the reputation,” Hattie says, shaking her head.
“Don’t listen to them. They’re just bitter.”
“That’s what I said,” she tells me.
“You said that?” I nod in surprise.
“Look, I wanted to defend you. You are my husband — at least you will be as soon as we get the pastor over. But I don’t want to spend my life convincing other people you are committed to me. They seem to think you aren’t marriage material… are you?”
I run a hand over my beard. “You can’t trust Dylan and Keri. They have reputations too, you know.”
“But I don’t care about their reputations, I care about yours. About ours. I don’t want to be made a fool.”
I open the bag of food, starving and pull out the soup as she keeps talking.
“I know I told you I don’t need details, but if you’re still wanting to live the single life, then tell me now. Don’t waste my time and break my heart.”
“And then where would you go?” I ask her, knowing her options.
But I immediately know it was the wrong thing to say.
Tears fill her bright green eyes, splashing down her cheeks. “You don’t really want me then, do you? You pity me.”
“I did not say that.” Groaning, I realize I pretty much did. “It is the truth, you don’t have anywhere to go. But lucky for us, you are already right where you belong.”
“I belong here, alongside a string of women you’ve been with, who you’ve let down? How can I trust I’m not the next in line?”
I step toward her, cupping her cute cheeks with my hands. “I never called those girls for a second date because I didn’t want one. What would you rather, that I had a bunch of long-term relationships, or that I was never interested enough to spend more time with them? I may not have been a virgin when we met, but my heart, it’s never belonged anyone else. Until now.”
I kneel before her, pulling out the diamond ring. “Marry me, Hattie. Be my Mrs. Mistletoe. My wife. Because hell, I’ve known you a day but I want to love you for a lifetime.”
Her eyes widen in absolute shock. “Are you sure?”
I nod, taking her hand. “I wish I could have married you on December first, made your little girl wishes come true, but Hattie, I will always remember that day as the best of my life. Because it was the day I met you.”
Tears fall down her cheeks as I slip the ring on her finger. “Oh Hartley, I do want to marry you.”
“I know I wasn’t marriage material before, but that’s only because I hadn’t met my wife.”
I stand, pulling her into a hug, kissing her perfect pink lips. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
She lets out a laugh mixed with a sigh mixed with joy. “You’re mine then, right? Mine alone?”
“Forever.”
“Then can we find this Pastor Monroe and seal the deal?”
“One step ahead of you, Cookie.” I tell her to put on her coat, and then I take her hand. I drag her down the street to the gazebo in the center of town where my parents are waiting, along with the pastor of the local chapel.
Mom and Dad are grinning ear to ear, and Hattie’s face is written in shock. The gazebo is lit with Christmas lights, there are trees decorated all around, and in the distance is the ice skating rink, filled with children laughing as they spin around.
“Are you ready to get married?” I ask her.
She nods, tears in her eyes. “Can I meet your parents first?”
With her hand in mine, I introduce het to Mom and Dad. “And this is Hattie. My bride.”
“Oh,