by Ivy Layne
Vance pulled me into his arms, wrapping them tightly around me, his lips brushing my temple. "That sounds perfect. How long will it take to pull something like that together? A few weeks?"
I hummed in the back of my throat. I had a feeling a few weeks was an optimistic schedule. I didn't even have a dress. "We'll figure it out," I said. Drawing back, I looked up into his impossibly handsome face. "Are you really sure?"
Vance laid a finger across my lips, stopping me from speaking. "Don't ever ask me that again. I was a fucking idiot before. I've been in love with you for years, okay? I just didn't know what to do about it. Aside from the obvious."
"The obvious?" I asked, grinning as his arms tightened around my waist.
Vance grinned back and kissed me, his lips teasing mine apart, taking control until I was bent back over his arm and gasping for breath. "I had that part clear," he whispered, his lips moving against mine. "It was the rest I had to figure out."
The door to the gallery swung open, and Sloane's voice cut through the darkness. "Are you two done yet? I need to move the pieces in here and open it up. Are you sure you won't let me put a price on the gazebo?"
"It's an engagement gift for my fiancée, Sloane. It's not for sale."
"Fine. Then get your champagne and your fiancée out of my way so I can sell some art." She stormed back into the gallery, letting the door shut behind her, this time leaving it unlocked.
"Did she help you set this up?" I asked, having a hard time believing Sloane would help get us back together.
"She begged me not to dump her and the gallery. Since her attitude about you was the reason I fired her, I told her she could have a second chance if she helped me get you back. She's probably the only person who wanted you to say yes as much as I did."
"What about Charlie?" I asked as the lights in the garden flicked on. With more illumination, I could see the stands for the garden sculptures, the information plaques and spotlights already arranged. The door opened again, and workers came through, carrying the sculptures that we'd planned to display in the garden. In a few minutes, we'd be surrounded by art lovers, no longer alone.
I asked again, "Did Charlie know?"
"Are you going to get mad at her if I say yes?" Vance asked, running his lips along my cheekbone. I glanced down and did a double-take at the huge rock on my ring finger.
"Of course not. Charlie's my best friend."
"Did she pick out that dress?" Vance asked, leaning just far enough away to run his eyes down the length of my body.
"She did. Why?"
"Because you look unbelievably hot, and if we weren't about to be surrounded by people, I'd be fucking you against the wall right now."
"Really?" He trailed a finger down across my collarbone to dip into the wrap neckline of the dress, his finger disappearing beneath the fabric to slide inside my lace bra. I shivered.
"Really. You look hot in anything. Even those men's pajamas you still had from college. But this dress is almost criminal. And those shoes. Fuck, Magnolia. I don't know whether to thank Charlie or yell at her for picking it out."
"Why would you yell at her?" I asked, enjoying our last few moments of privacy.
"You didn't see the way the men in there were looking at you. I don't care if you have my ring on your finger—you're not leaving my side for the rest of the night."
"I've always thought of you as a Viking," I said, "but right now, you remind me more of a caveman."
Voices filtered into the quiet night as people entered the garden, eager to see the work they'd been told had been 'held back' for a special viewing. Charlie emerged from the crowd and rushed forward, her hand reaching for mine. She lifted my fingers to the light and turned them, first one way, then the other, examining my ring.
"I knew it would be gorgeous. Did he grovel?" she demanded. "I hope you made him grovel."
"Hey!" Vance said, taking my hand from Charlie and pressing it to his chest. He held it in place with his own, the strong beat of his heart thumping beneath my fingers. "Stop manhandling my fiancée. And stop encouraging her to mess with me."
"You deserve it," Charlie said, uncowed by Vance's dark expression. "You were an ass."
"I was," Vance admitted. "And I groveled a little."
"Did he?" She asked me.
"A little. Enough. He groveled exactly enough," I said. People milled around us, murmuring. One brave soul ventured close enough to ask, "Is the gazebo available?"
When Vance curtly answered, "No. It's a gift," she said,
"Will you make one on commission?"
Before he could offend the woman, I jumped in to say, "If you'll give Sloane your contact information, he'll let you know after the show. He's just a little tense tonight." I sent her a sympathetic smile. "You know how artists are. He gets jittery when he has a show."
She nodded sagely and promised she'd find Sloane. Charlie was stifling a giggle, and Vance gave my waist a hard squeeze. "The only time in my entire fucking life that I've ever had the jitters was when you wouldn't agree to marry me."
"You said no?" Charlie cut in.
"She turned him down?" I heard over my shoulder. I turned to see Aiden behind us, frowning at Vance. "You fucked it up, man? How?"
"I did not fuck it up," Vance growled, lifting my hand from where he had it tucked to his chest and showing Aiden my ring. "She said yes. She just made me wait first. I think she wanted to torture me."
"I wasn't trying to torture you," I protested. "I was in shock. I wasn't expecting a proposal."
"That's my fault," Vance whispered in my ear. "You should have been expecting it. I should never have let you wonder about how much I love you."
I melted into him. How long did we have to stay at the show? My sensible side said we had to stay to the end. The newly engaged woman who'd spent the previous night crying into her pillow wanted to jump the wall and sneak off to have sex with her fiancée.
At the moment, I liked her much better than my sensible side. I nudged Vance with my elbow and said, "Hey, do you want to sneak out? What's Sloane going to do, fire you?"
Vance's blue eyes went electric and he lowered his mouth to mine. His tongue was tracing my lower lip when I heard from behind me, "Maggie! I need to talk to you, baby."
I turned to see Brayden, wearing a suit and sporting a black eye, stalking across the walled garden to the gazebo. Every person in earshot fell silent. Wonderful. Almost everyone here knew me, knew Brayden, and knew our sad drama of cheating and a broken engagement.
Atlanta was a big city, but my corner of it sometimes felt like a small town. Vance shifted to put himself between Brayden and me. I stepped to the side. I wasn't afraid of Brayden, but I was curious to know what he wanted.
"Why aren't you in jail?" I asked. A gasp went up from the crowd. I couldn't say I didn't enjoy the heck out of that. I was tired of playing the rejected girlfriend. A stint in jail made being dumped the far lesser crime.
"Maggie, how could you have me arrested?" he asked, coming to a stop in front of me. "I need you to drop the charges, baby. This was all a misunderstanding. You just need to let me explain."
I laughed. I couldn't help it. He was completely insane if he thought there was any explanation for what he'd done. I told him so.
"You're crazy. You were stealing from me. You stole my grandmother's bracelet, her clock, and more. Your backpack was stuffed full when you were arrested. I'm not dropping anything. You can rot in jail for all I care. I hope you do."
"I'll lose my license," he pleaded. "I'm sorry. It was a mistake. I owed some money and I didn't have it."
"So you stole from me?" I asked, incredulous. "You took family heirlooms, things my grandparents expected me to hand down to my own children, and pawned them to pay your debts? Who did you owe money to?"
"Can you keep your voice down?" he asked, glancing around. The crowd was listening with avid interest, not even pretending to look at the art. We were the show now, and if Brayden thought this entire conver
sation wasn't going to hit every ear in Atlanta by midnight, he was sadly mistaken.
"No," I said. "Who did you owe money to? And for what?"
"I can't tell you," he mumbled, looking at the ground. "Can't you just let it go?"
"No. Tell me what you wanted the money for and I'll drop the charges."
Vance squeezed my arm and said, "Magnolia."
"Do you promise?" Brayden asked.
"First tell me why you needed the money," I said.
"For Heather's engagement ring," he confessed in a low voice. "I was over-extended and I couldn't get credit. She wanted a ring, and I thought—"
"You thought you'd steal from your current fiancée to buy a ring for your new one? God, you're a dumbass," I said.
If I hadn't had Vance beside me, his ring on my finger and his declarations of love fresh in my ears, I might have murdered Brayden. As it was, I laughed.
"So will you drop the charges? I really am sorry," he said with a sheepish smile I'm sure he thought was charming.
"No," I said.
"But, you promised," he sputtered. "You said—"
"I lied," I cut in. "And you're an idiot."
"Come on, Maggie, don't be such a bitch. I'm sorry about everything, but you don't need to get back at me by doing this."
"Get back at you?" I laughed again. "I don't need to get back at you at all. I've moved on. I don't care about you anymore. But you were stealing from me. You knew I loved that bracelet, knew my grandmother gave it to me, and you pawned it for cash. You must have known I'd go crazy looking for it, but all you wanted was to make yourself happy. You'll have to hope your lawyer can work a miracle, because we have you on video at my house and they're tracking down the things you pawned. You're going to lose a lot more than your license."
"You fucking cunt—" Brayden swore. He didn't get the chance to say more. Vance lunged forward and swung his fist, catching Brayden right on the jaw. Brayden dropped like a sack of rocks. Vance stepped back and shook out his hand.
"Fuck. Forgot how much that hurts."
I caught his hand in mine and rubbed his fingers. "Careful with those hands, honey," I said. "You can't work if you get injured."
Vance kissed my forehead. "I've been dying to hit him for years. If he moves, I'll do it again."
"He's not worth it," I said.
"No, but you are." He rested his lips on my skin, and I leaned into him, twining my fingers with his.
"When you're not being an asshole, you're pretty sweet," I said.
"Charming, not sweet," he said, trailing his lips down my cheekbone to my mouth and kissing me slowly. I forgot everyone was watching us and kissed him back, my body melting into his.
"Uh, guys? The dickhead is getting up," Charlie said, staring down at Brayden as if he were something she'd stepped in.
I looked over my shoulder to see Brayden sneering at us, propped up on one hand, touching his cheek gingerly with the other. "I'm fucking pressing charges, asshole. You hit me!"
"No shit," Vance said with a laugh. "Did you just figure that out?"
"I'm going to fucking kick your ass," Brayden shouted.
Not likely. He was still wobbling to his feet when I pulled my hand free of Vance and stepped in front of him. Vance tried to pull me back, but I waved him off. Brayden couldn't even stand up straight. He wasn't a threat.
"Get out of my way, Maggie," he said. I took a step closer and set my hands on his shoulders. Behind me, I heard Charlie say, "Oh, shit."
"There's something I've been meaning to tell you, Brayden," I said.
He opened his mouth to speak, but he never got the words out. Before he had the chance to spew more bullshit, I lifted my knee and slammed it into his balls. Brayden let out a high-pitched squeak and collapsed to the ground, jaw hanging loose, limbs splayed, gasping for air.
Vance took my hand and swung me around, dropping me over his arm in a low dip as if we'd been dancing. He set his lips on my neck and said, "You're amazing. I fucking love you, Magnolia." In a whoosh of movement, he swung me back upright and held me tight to his body. "What do you say we get the hell out of here and celebrate our engagement?"
"Please," I said. Vance picked up the bottle of champagne by the neck, wrapped his arm around my waist, sent Aiden and Charlie a two-fingered salute, and led me through the murmuring crowd. He was parked in the tiny lot behind the gallery. After helping me up into the Range Rover, he got in, started the engine, and said, "Home?"
"Yes. Let's go home."
He took my hand in his as he drove, stroking the ring on my finger as we passed through the hushed streets. "Is Rosie with Mrs. Williamson?" I asked.
"Yep."
"All night?" I asked. Vance gave my hand a squeeze and turned his head to look at me. His eyes shone with love and sparked with lust.
"All night, Magnolia. All night."
"Mmm," I said, pressing my knees together at the wave of heat between my legs. I'd only been without him for one night, but it felt like a lifetime.
"You know what I want, Sugar?" Vance asked, his voice a low rumble in his chest.
"Tell me."
"I want you, in our bed, wearing nothing but my ring and those fucking shoes. That's what I want."
"I can do that," I said.
And I did. All night.
EPILOGUE: PART ONE
MAGNOLIA
* * *
ONE MONTH LATER
* * *
Bright spring sunshine bathed my skin as I lay on my side in the backyard. I'd spread a quilt on the freshly mown lawn, and Rosie and I were enjoying the beautiful weather after days of rain. The ground was a little damp beneath the quilt, but we didn't care.
Rosie was rolling over now, and keeping her on the quilt was more of a challenge than I'd expected. She couldn't crawl, but she'd figured out she could get almost anywhere by rolling. Our sweet little girl had a spark of trouble in her. Just like her daddy.
Vance was across the lawn, at the back of the property, supervising the renovations on the carriage house. Now that we were engaged, he and Rosie had officially moved in and we'd agreed to go ahead with the plan to turn the carriage house into his studio. It would be ideal once it was rebuilt on the inside, right down to the small gravel driveway to the door so he could receive delivery of materials.
Life was just about perfect.
Except for the wedding. I was partially regretting the decision not to elope. It would have been so much easier to fly to Vegas, grab a dress off the rack, and just get it done. We even had connections out there—Evers's brother, Axel, ran the western division of Sinclair Security out of Las Vegas and was best friends with Dylan Kane, the owner of the Delecta Casino and Resort. Dylan had called Vance personally to offer anything we wanted.
Like a fool, I'd turned him down. I wanted a small, romantic wedding in my backyard. And that's what I was getting, complete with exchanging our vows in the gazebo Vance had built for me.
Planning a wedding was much more involved than I'd guessed. I should have known. I'd helped Sloane plan enough shows at the gallery to understand that these things involved so many more details than they should have.
Abigail had taken charge. She was so sweet and refined, I hadn't realized she was also terrifyingly organized and very stubborn. I was efficient and organized when it came to business. But party planning? Not so much.
I wanted to marry Vance. And I wanted it to be romantic. I just couldn't bring myself to care about flowers, or table settings, or music, or seating arrangements. Or anything aside from my dress, the guest list, and the cake.
It wasn't that Abigail didn't listen to me. She did. She was wonderful—patient and thoughtful and filled with creative ideas that gave away the close attention she'd paid to who Vance and I really were. And she was doing the whole thing for free.
Well, not entirely for free. She'd strong-armed Vance into making another donation to the foundation as her fee. Abigail was born to extort money out of wealthy people in the nam
e of a good cause. Her first benefit for the Winters Foundation had been a raging success, and the next one would be even better. She'd beamed when we'd decided to ask for donations to the food bank in lieu of gifts.
She was such a sweetheart, I felt terrible that I'd been dodging her calls. Only for one day. I needed a break from the wedding. I looked up to see Vance loping across the lawn, a roguish grin on his handsome face. He reached the edge of the quilt and scooped up Rosie, who had rolled in his direction the second she'd seen movement.
Scout, who had been supervising the construction work with Vance, came around the quilt to collapse beside me, leaning his short, long body into mine. I rubbed his ears and lost myself in watching Vance swing Rosie in the air. She loved it, babbling with glee and reaching for the sun. He was such a good dad.
When Rosie was done, Vance dropped down to join Scout and me on the quilt, setting Rosie between us. She promptly rolled toward Scout and reached out to play with his paw. Scout gave a harrumph and settled his head on his other paw, content to let Rosie play as long as he knew she was safe.
"She's rolling everywhere," Vance said, looking down at Rosie's drooping eyelids. She was napping less and sleeping longer at night, but she was also more active. It was a good thing we were getting more sleep. We needed the energy to keep up with her.
"I know. She almost rolled herself to the top of the stairs this morning," I said.
"Do we need to get a gate already?" Vance asked, his eyebrows drawing together in concern.
"Probably. She'll be crawling in another month or two."
Vance rolled to his back and let out a groan. "I'm not ready for crawling. She's already a terror and she's only rolling.”
"I know," I agreed. "But I don't think we get a say."
"Nope." Vance turned back to his side and looked at me from beneath his thick eyelashes. I knew that glint in his eye. I wasn't surprised when he said, "When do you think she'll fall asleep?”