Page 34 of Yanked (Frenched 1.50)
I opened my mouth, and eventually the words came out. “Is that your idea of…a proposal?”
His crooked grin appeared. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
Scrambling onto my knees, I continued to gape at him, my heart pounding. “I…I…I don’t know whether to say yes and kiss you or say yes and beat you with my pillow for doing it this way! I’m totally unprepared! I’m in shock!”
He shrugged. “You know me—I like to wing it. So that’s a yes either way, right? Whether you hit me with your pillow or not?”
I grabbed my pillow and clubbed him over the head with it. “Yes!”
He laughed and yanked the pillow from my hands before launching himself at me. I toppled over backward, head at the foot of the bed. “Are you sure? I know I’m not what you had in mind for a husband—a scruffy, Half-French, guitar-playing bartender who cuts his own hair.”
I grinned. That hair. It was all messy this morning, as usual, and it needed a trim—a real trim, at a salon. But every time I looked at it, I remembered how wrong I’d been about so many things, and how good life’s surprises could be. I ran my hands through it. “No, you’re not what I had in mind. You’re so much better.”
He kissed me softly, sending a shiver through my body. “Good.” His brow dipped slightly. “I didn’t get you a ring. But I will.”
“That’s OK. You can surprise me with it another time.” I grinned up at him, tugging on his ear. “You made me like surprises.”
“You made me like forever.”
“You’re not scared of it anymore?”
He shook his head. “You know what? Lately I’ve been thinking that the only scary thing about forever is imagining one without you in it.”
“I’m in it,” I told him. “I promise.” His handsome face hovered above mine, and it made my stomach turn cartwheels. I’ll get to wake up next to him every morning for the rest of my life! It was enough to bring tears to my eyes. “I still can’t believe it, Lucas. I thought you never wanted to get married.”
“I’ve learned not to say never where you’re concerned.”
“About… anything?” I searched his eyes, hoping he would realize what I meant. They were clear and bright and full of understanding.
“About anything.”
Happiness flooded me, making my toes wiggle. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He lowered his head to kiss me again but pulled back abruptly. “Hey. Do we have to have one of those big weddings? With elephants and a marching band and a Papal blessing?” When I burst out laughing, he sat back. “I’m serious. We don’t, do we?”
I propped myself onto my elbows and thought for a second. “You know what? No. We don’t. I don’t care if we just elope and there’s no one there but you and me and someone remotely official.”
“Really?”
“Really. Last year, when I planned that huge fiasco wedding to Tucker, it was all about what things looked like—the dress, the flowers, the venue. I was so distracted by all of it that I was blind to the fact that we didn’t love each other the way we should. It was a show. A beautiful show, granted, but still a show. It was for other people.” Sitting up all the way, I gestured between us. “This is real. Our wedding will be for us. That’s all I care about.”
“You say that now, but won’t you want your friends there? Your parents?”
I chewed my lip. “Hmm. Maybe you’re right. I think Coco and Erin would murder me if I married you in secret. After all, they’re the ones who insisted I go to Paris.”
Lucas smiled. “When I close my eyes, I can still see you storming into that bar in Paris, mad as hell, but more beautiful than anyone I’d ever seen.”
“I was mad. And you were so annoying.”
He smiled, reaching for me and hauling me across his lap. “But you stayed.”
I looped my arms around his neck. “I did. Good thing.” He kissed me again, Paris on both our minds, and suddenly I had an idea. “Lucas,” I said, my lips still on his, “I just thought of something.”
“Me too. What a coincidence.” His hand stole to one breast and kneaded it gently.
“No, not that. I mean, yes that, but just a minute. Can we get married in Provence? At the villa?”
He looked surprised. “You want to get married in France?”
