Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Nah-uh,” she says with perfect sass. “No touching unless you tell me where we’re going.”
I smirk, pushing my hand further as her young body shivers for me. “We’ll see about that.”
She sits opposite me in the chauffeured car, a blindfold over her eyes as the Scottish landscape sweeps by. With hills that look like paintings, a single road winds through the glory of it with jagged cliffs off in the distance.
“We’re here for a week,” I say, teasing my woman.
She laughs, adjusting her dress, making me swell at the flash of her legs.
“Oh, goodie,” she says sarcastically. “We’re here for a week. Where is that again?”
“I’ll give you a hint,” I say as the car comes to a stop. “I’m wearing a kilt.”
“You are not wearing a kilt.”
I lean across the car and take her blindfold off. She laughs in delight, clapping her hands together when she sees I’m telling the truth.
“Why?” she says. “I’ve got to say, you’re really styling that.”
I grin. “It’s a special occasion. You’re a bonnie lass. I’ve got the Scot in me. We’re the Kilts, and now you’re my queen.”
I open the car door and step out, then take her hands. She rises, collapsing against me. I sweep her around in my embrace, taking in the Scottish countryside. The hills roll beneath us with the stark silver sea and the cliffs in the distance while the wind whips lightly at us.
Kneeling, I feel the road against my bare knee. I promise myself to remember every moment, the way my woman smiles and cries, raising her hands to her mouth as if to protect her joy.
I take the ring box from my inside jacket pocket.
“Bonnie Wilson,” I say.
“Oh, Blake…”
I open the ring box displaying a silver band with a large stone with the character of my woman, her curves and her brightness. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she yells, leaning down as I stand up.
I slip the ring onto her finger and then sweep her into my arms again. She throws herself up against me, laughing as I spin her around and around, the landscape rushing past.
“I love you! I love you!” she sings.
“I told you when this started,” I say as I smile, placing her down. “You’re mine.”
“Let’s call Dad,” she says after a moment.
My smile widens. The sun is slanting downwards, late afternoon, breaking through the clouds. “It’ll be morning there. Let’s hope he’s up.”
She laughs. “He’s with his new best friend. Have you seen Archie lately?”
I hug my woman and kiss her forehead. “He’s a traitor,” I joke.
She video-calls Cameron, holding the phone sideways. He appears with Archie in his lap. The little dog has taken a real liking to him. Before we left for the trip, Cameron was talking about possibly becoming a dog trainer one day. Now, he’s smiling. More and more, he’s looking like his old self.
“Did you say yes?” Cameron smiles.
“Of course, I did!” Bonnie says.
“I’m so happy for you both, and this little guy is, too.”
Archie sits up, almost as if planned, and yaps excitedly at the camera.
EPILOGUE
THREE WEEKS LATER
Bonnie
I sit at the window, flicking through all the paintings I finished in Scotland.
Blake took me to our lodge after proposing—a large, beautiful place built into the side of the cliff with clear views of the crashing waves.
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said and took me to a room that stood alone, each wall a giant window, giving me the best view of the landscape, and art supplies of every kind, letting me experiment.
“I’ll try, but only for you,” I told him.
Then I rediscovered painting, my love for it soaring, my obsession growing. Now, I’ve put them all in a book. Dad helped me find a website that could do it, but he didn’t see what I wrote on the last page. When I read the final words, my whole body shimmers with warmth, love, and belonging. I’m going to give the book to Blake later.
I leave my bedroom, walking down the stairs and past the armor, the weapons, and the touches I’ve added—a plant pot here, some flowers there, opening a few curtains, and even ordering new rugs. Blake always smiles, approving and encouraging.
I go to the garden, chest whelming and pride soaring when I see Dad standing in front of two dogs, his hands raised, keeping them sitting in the grass. I sit and close my eyes, letting the sun rest against my face.
Enzo is in prison for racketeering, carjacking, drug dealing, and murder. The other men are gone. We’re safe. Blake told me yesterday he’s working with the Italians to make the city even safer.
“And if they won’t,” he said, “I’ll make them.”
I don’t mean to fall asleep, but it’s too nice out here, with the sun and the sound of Dad talking to the dogs. It’s warming up. When I open my eyes, Dad is looking down at me.