Mystic Cowboy(94)

He was trying to outflank her. Well, it wouldn’t work. She had ammo to spare. “You’ll have to get used to going to gala charity banquets.”

Damn it, nothing was ruffling his feathers. “You’ll have to get used to gallery openings,” he said, like he’d been waiting for her to say it.

That didn’t sound pleasant. But if it was only for a week or so... “You’ll have to get used to me being on call.”

“You’ll have to get used to being married.”

Outflanked. Completely and totally outflanked by a mystic cowboy who happened to be an Indian. Nothing came out of her mouth. Not a damn thing. He leaned in and kissed her, and in that exquisite moment, she didn’t care if she was awake or not. She only knew that she was where she belonged.

“I will never let you go, Mad-e-line,” he whispered in her ear as he held her tight. “I couldn’t, even if I tried. I love you too much.” He leaned back and stared into her eyes. She saw herself, crazy white woman with crazy hair who just wanted to do a little good in this world. But she saw him too. A man who walked in two worlds. A man who wanted to find his place.

She looked down at the flyer, with proof of down payment fluttering in the evening breeze on top. It wasn’t a ring, that much was certain. But it was a promise, all the same. Then she looked at him again. All the cocky wolfishness about him was gone as he waited. He wouldn’t let her go, she realized. Even if she said no.

“Please,” he said. The glimmer of fear in his eyes was just that—a glimmer. But it was enough to tell her that she could still outflank him, still take him down with one word.

“Please say yes.”

But that wasn’t the victory. This wasn’t even a battle. This was the rest of her life.

The rest of their lives.

“Yes.”

Victory had never been sweeter.