Zach wadded up his napkin and shot a paper basketball into the picnic basket. When Savannah finished, he climbed down from the picnic bench and offered her his hand. Their fingers laced, they walked toward the safety railing at the edge of the point and stood, gazing out at the valley below. Zach said, “This is a special place.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“True, but that’s not why it’s special.” He faced her, gently touched her cheek. “It’s special because this is where I met you.”
She melted, even as her heart began to pound. This is it. He’s going to ask me to marry him.
“That’s sweet. You’re sweet, Zach.”
His expression rueful, he said, “That’s me, Mr. Sweet. Better than Barney Fife, I guess.”
Savannah shook her head and laughed at them both. “You never were Barney Fife. You’ve always been Andy Taylor. Tall, smart, sexy Sheriff Andy.”
“You thought Sheriff Taylor was sexy?”
“Absolutely.”
“He wasn’t a little too … good?”
Savannah clicked her tongue and teased, “Now, Sheriff, a man can never be too good.”
He leaned down and kissed her, long and thoroughly, and Savannah melted against him, her heart soaring. When he pulled away, those gorgeous blue eyes of his stared down into hers. “I love you, Savannah Sophia Moore.”
“I love you, too, Zach Turner.”
He kissed her again, quickly, then said, “I have something for you. I wanted to give it to you up here.”
Of course. She should have realized it. How perfect that he’d give her a ring here where they began. “Okay.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a … not an engagement ring. Savannah gasped, brought a hand to her mouth.
It was a dirty, ragged muslin bag with a dirty, ragged blue ribbon. “Zach. You found it. How did you find it? Where?”
“I just happened to see it one day when I was out walking on the ranch.” He handed it to her.
She clasped it to her chest. “Just happened to see it. Right.”
“Maybe I went searching for it on the ranch. A few times.”
“A few times? A few hours? Hours and hours and hours?”
He shrugged. “It was important to you.”
“Oh, Zach. Thank you.” She went up on her tiptoes and pressed kisses against his mouth, his cheeks, his nose, saying, “Thank you … thank you … thank you.”
Finally he grabbed her face between his palms and gave her mouth a hard, carnal kiss. “You’re welcome.”
Once she was steady on her feet again, he let her go. “This was nice, Savannah. I’m glad we could do this.”
“Me too.”
“You ready to go?” He turned and started walking back toward the picnic table.
Go? Now? She stood staring after him, her mouth gaping open.
He picked up the picnic basket and his walking stick, then turned to wait for her. “Savannah?”
“Go? Now? Like this?”
“Um … yeah? I admit I’m getting a little tired.”
“But …” She put her hands on her hips. “What about my ring?”
“What ring?” He honestly looked puzzled.
The jerk. “My engagement ring!”
Light dawned. “You thought I was going to give you an engagement ring today?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed, stepping toward him. “It’s been three weeks, Turner! What’s the deal? Three weeks ago in front of your family, your brand-new family, you toss out the word wife and then you never bring up the subject again? For three whole weeks?”
Savannah knew she was sounding a bit like a fishwife, but she didn’t really care. “Then you bring me up here. To the place we met. What was I supposed to think?”
“Oh.”
She waited a beat. “That’s all you have to say for yourself? ‘Oh’?”
Zach lifted his face toward the sky and sighed long and loud. “For crying out loud, Savannah. Think about it. Think about who you run with. I have some pressure here. This is Eternity Springs! The last marriage proposal that happened in this town was done from a hang glider above a field of roses that spelled out the words ‘Marry Me.’ I may not have Jack Davenport’s money or his larger-than-life CIA-agent background, but I can darn well throw down a romantic marriage proposal that’ll make you swoon and give you a fairy-tale story to tell our grandchildren someday. Only you’re going to have to cut me a little slack. I’m recovering from a near fatal gunshot wound, here, and you need to pay attention to the verb tense. That’s recovering. Not have recovered. You need to be patient and give me time. Because just like marriage is a two-way street, proposals are a two-way street. It’s my proposal, too, and when it happens,