a small chuckle. This woman is way too good for me, but I’ll do my damnedest to make sure I’m worth her.
“Oh, my God, Willow. If you don’t kiss that man, I’m going to,” Carrie says, laughing through sniffly tears.
Willow looks over to her mom. I still can’t. My eyes are only for Willow until she says yes. Until she says she’s mine.
“Tell me, sweetheart.”
“I love you, Bobby.”
I can see her licking her lips in preparation and feel her lifting to her toes. I try to be patient and let her kiss me this time, but at the last second, I can’t wait anymore and I meet her halfway.
Though our lips move against one another the way they have dozens of times before, something is different about this kiss. This kiss is a promise of a shared future, of the two of us against the world, of nothing ever coming between us again.
“I love you too.” I murmur the words against her lips, unwilling to stop kissing her but needing to tell her again and again.
After a minute, or hell, maybe it’s several, Carrie clears her throat. “Not to break up the lovefest, but obviously, you’re welcome to stay for dinner, Bobby. And we don’t leave for Great Falls until tomorrow, so I’ll get the guest room fixed up for you.”
Carrie brushes past us, humming a tune that catches my ear. You Are My Sunshine, one of my mom’s favorites. It feels like a sign that she’s here too and approves of what I’m doing. More likely, it’s just a common, popular song, but I prefer to think it’s Mom.
“Guest room?” I ask Willow, giving her a cocky grin.
She gives me back one of those soft smiles, and I almost gasp at how beautiful it is. I’m going to spend my whole life making her give me those, saving each and every one like shiny treasures in my pocket. Proof of a woman well-loved and a life well-lived.
“Mom is surprisingly old-fashioned about that.” Willow shrugs.
“But not the mauling I just laid down on her daughter in her front room?” I growl out on a laugh.
Willow’s eyes go wide, the gray popping behind her lenses. “Oh, my God, she saw all of that!” She buries her face in her hands, but not before I see the blush on her cheeks.
I tilt her chin back up with a light touch of my finger. “I don’t give a shit, sweetheart. I’ll tell your Mom, your Dad, Hank, the whole damn town how I feel about you. You want me to spray paint it on a water tower or something? I’ll do it. Write a song? Done. Name it, because I’m proud to say you’re mine.”
Her blush has turned heated and she meets my eyes boldly now. “And you’re mine.”
“Fuck yeah, I am.”
Dinner is . . . weirdly quiet. I mean, compared to one of our family dinners, most folks’ meals probably are.
Carrie and Wayne sit at the head and foot of the table, Oakley and his wife, Madison, on one side, and Willow and me on the other. For six people, the conversation is easy and shockingly, everyone takes turns speaking. Like I said, weirdly quiet when only one person talks at a time instead of us Tannens and Bennetts chattering over each other like impatient toddlers.
They ask me the standard questions, and though I’ve never been serious enough with anyone to do the ‘meet the family’ routine, I think I ace them, mostly because I love Willow so they’re generously forgiving of my lack of slick, practiced answers.
Wayne asks a lot of questions about the soil composition of the farm, and I tell him how we prep for different crops in different fields, rotating them to keep the soil nutrient-dense. “I’d like to see that, maybe run a few tests if you don’t mind?”
I shrug, worried more about keeping my fork moving because I’m so hungry. “I’ll have to check with Mama Louise. It’s her land now, but I don’t think she’d mind.” If Mama Louise says no, I’ll promise to weed her entire garden for a year to get a yes because I need to make nice with Willow’s dad.
He gives me a nod, looking ready to go right now, and I think I’m on his good side.
Carrie tells Willow about a new exhibit that begins at her gallery, and they talk about composition, lines, and the ‘transformative power of space’. I have a moment of panic, not understanding anything they’re