Take the Chance (Top Shelf Romance #9) - Brittainy Cherry Page 0,255

of us could talk her into going to school.”

“She must have wanted something else more,” Margot said pointedly.

“I guess.” I shrugged, feeling guilty again. “Me. The farm.”

“I take it you feel bad about that?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Sometimes. But she had me convinced it really was what she wanted. And if she wanted something, she never gave up, and she didn’t care what people thought. She was a firecracker.”

“Ha. I like her.”

“Everyone liked her.”

She smiled again, a little sadly. “Were you high school sweethearts?”

“No. She was two years younger than me, and I thought she was a pest. I’d known her since we were kids, though. And I knew she had a crush on me, but I never looked at her that way until I was out of school.”

“Did you go to college?”

I nodded as the bartender offered me another beer. “For a year, but it wasn’t for me. I hated being in a classroom. I was restless and bored. Then 9/11 happened, and I joined the Army.”

“Really,” she said, as if she’d never heard of such a thing. “And how long were you in the military?”

“Eight years.”

“Wow. And she waited for you?” Her eyes went wide.

I nodded, smiling ruefully at the memory of her insisting she’d wait for me, even though I told her not to. “She did. Swore she would, and she did. I mean, she went to college while I was gone, but we kept in touch, saw each other when we could.”

“And you got married when you came home?”

I nodded, taking a sip of the new beer. “We got married after my dad died. About five years ago.”

She propped her elbow on the bar and her chin in her hand. “Tell me how you proposed.”

I grinned at the memory. “Actually, she proposed to me.”

Her head came off her hand, her lips opening in surprise. “No way. Really?”

“Really. She knew we were right for each other and I wasn’t one for ceremony. I’d probably have just asked her in the chicken coop or something.”

Margot rolled her eyes. “You and that chicken coop. Thank goodness she had more of a sense of romance than you.”

“You don’t think the chicken coop is romantic?” I slapped a palm to my cheek. “I’m shocked.”

“No, I don’t.” She poked me in the chest. “Now go on.”

“About what?”

“The proposal!” She slapped my shoulder this time, rolled her eyes. “Sheesh!”

“Oh, right.” But I was distracted by the way she kept touching me. “Uh, she asked me at the cabin. Brought me breakfast in bed on my birthday and there was a little note on the tray that said ‘Marry Me.’”

Again she put a hand over her heart, and her expression went wistful. “So sweet.”

I felt some heat in my face, remembering how things had gone after that. I’d said of course I would—promised to love her and take care of her forever, the way she’d been taking care of me. We’d made love over and over again that day, on the bed, on the floor, in the shower, on the kitchen table. I never felt safer or more sure of myself than when I was lost inside her. I missed that feeling so much. And I missed taking care of someone. “Yeah. It was.”

“Was she your first love?”

I hesitated before going on. It felt a little odd to be talking about this with Margot, but it was also kind of nice. And as long as conversation stayed on the topic of Steph and our marriage, I was safe from other, less honorable thoughts. “Definitely. I was a typical guy in my teens, totally uninterested in any emotional attachments. But when I joined the Army, it kind of forced me to reevaluate what mattered in life. I realized what I had in her. And when I got out…” I paused, nervous to reveal too much of myself but unable to deny that it felt good somehow. Just keep it focused on Steph. “I kind of struggled to adjust, and losing my dad made it worse. Steph was there for me. She pushed me to get better.”

“She must have been really special,” Margot said softly.

“She was. She saved my life, I have no doubt.” I took a long drink. “But I couldn’t save hers.”

Margot’s face fell, and she studied the base of her wineglass.

I groaned and set my bottle down. “What the fuck—I’m sorry, Margot. I didn’t mean to unload that on you.”

“No, no, it’s OK,” she said, touching my arm. “I’m glad