He reached across to embrace her, accidentally knocking the glass out of her hand, wine spilling on her jeans—but fortunately not on the dogs. “Sorry! I’ll go get you a towel and another drink. But answer my question first. Will you marry me?”

“Hey! I was going to ask! The answer is yes, but as Carly would say, how traditional of you—thinking the man has to be the one to propose.”

“Carly does tend to see traditional as a negative. We’ll do a mutual proposal, okay? But I’ll go refill your glass first so we can toast to our future. Or is that too traditional?”

She laughed. “Who cares? Could you bring some food while you’re at it? And some dog treats?”

He returned with a tea towel draped over his arm, carrying her wine, plus a dish of corn chips and guacamole. And a couple of dog chews, which he handed out. “Good enough, you guys?” Their wagging tails said it was.

ONCE SHE’D DRIED off her jeans and he’d arranged everything on the table, he held out his arms. Shallie stood up and practically fell into them; he sat back in his chair, with her on his lap. After a series of kisses, quick ones and slow, he set her down. “Now, about that proposal…”

“Yeah. Gotta do this right.” She picked up her glass and raised it to his. “Cord Hollister, you’re the man I love. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, Shallie Fletcher, I will. And now it’s my turn to ask the question—even though you’ve already answered it with yours. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” She giggled, pointing at the dogs. “You can’t back out now. We have two witnesses.”

“I have no intention of backing out. I love you,” he said. “You make my life complete in a way it’s never been before.”

Serious again, she told him, “You’ve done the same for me.”

THEY SORTED OUT some plans that evening.

They’d have the wedding on the Friday before Christmas, they decided. Short notice, but they’d send out the invitations in the next few days. And they’d have an informal party here on the Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend.

Then, their planning as complete as possible for now, they went to bed—to really celebrate.

The following day, they talked about selecting a best man and a maid of honor; certain wedding niceties would be observed. Shallie’s maid of honor would be Emma; Cord said Eli and J.P. should draw cards to decide who should be the best man. Or maybe he’d just skip right to Trooper—as his “beast man.”

The GateCrashers would be hired to provide the music for both events with, naturally, an original contribution or two from Carly.