“Then I guess I better show him,” he said, then lowered his mouth and kissed the breath from her lungs. He bent her over his arm like he was Rhett Butler, and right there in front of anyone who cared to watch, the kiss turned hot and wet and so good. When he straightened, he placed his palms on the sides of her head and looked deep into her eyes. “I want everyone to know I love you, Hope.”
“I want everyone to know I love you, too.”
A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I am glad you just said that, because I was thinking that I might have to take you home and handcuff you to a chair until you did.”
“You don’t have to handcuff me. I love you. I’ve loved you since the day you showed me Sawtooth Lake. Probably even before that.”
He brushed his nose against hers. “I know I messed things up between us, but if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making you happy.”
Hope blinked but couldn’t stop the tears in her eyes. “Then what are we doing here? Take me home.”
“Honey, I’ve been waiting for you to say that since I walked in.”
On the drive to the Donnelly hou
se, Hope sat beside Dylan in the cab of his truck. She had her hand on his thigh and her head on his shoulder. The last time she’d ridden in his truck at night, she’d torn at his clothes, but for now, she was content to sit within the glow of the dashboard lights and listen to the sound of his voice. Later, there would be plenty of time for tearing clothes. She had the rest of her life. Right now they had something important they had to do. They had to talk to Adam.
She kissed Dylan’s shoulder through his jacket and shirt, and he put his arm around her. Within the dark confines of the truck’s cab, she felt as if they were the only people on the planet. Like the night she’d fallen in love with him at Sawtooth Lake. Her heart swelled and her head spun like poor upside-down Cassiopeia.
She listened while Dylan told her about Myron and Paris leaving town together and their plans to start a wrestling career in Mexico. Personally, she couldn’t see it happening, but she certainly wished them success so that neither returned to darken her life again.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, too, but you know I’m a package deal. How do you feel about Adam?”
She didn’t even have to think about it. “He’s a great kid, Dylan. He’s smart and funny, and I like being around him.”
“Then stay with us,” he said and kissed the top of her head. “Stay with us forever. I know it’s asking a lot of you, but I’m asking anyway. I’m asking you to give up your life in L.A. for me, a man with a young son. I don’t know how you feel about being a mama, and I know it’s a lot to think about.”
It wasn’t a lot to ask, and she didn’t have to think about that, either. Not at all. She would be whatever Adam wanted her to be, a mother or a friend or both. “Have you told Adam how you feel about me?”
“Yes, and while he wasn’t jumping up and down, he did say he was going to find you a special rock. That means he likes you.” He picked up her hand from his thigh and kissed her fingers. “I guess I need to find you a special rock, too. A big, sparkly one.”
“I don’t need a special rock. I just need you.” She straightened and turned to his dark profile. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
“Not right now.”
She supposed it was better to wait a few months. She wondered if he would want to wait a year.
“After we talk to Adam, I’m going to take you to your house and make love to you, and when you’re all soft and happy and satisfied, that’s when I’ll ask.”
She laughed, vastly relieved. “Why wait?”
“Well, I discovered that when you have an afterglow, you’ll say yes to anything. Eating cake off your body, being tied up, marriage.”
She shrugged. “Okay.”
She’d come to Gospel to find Bigfoot and aliens, but she’d found something else. Something better. She’d found where her heart belonged. The future was in front of her and beside her. She had Dylan and Adam and Shelly. She had her career, and just that morning she’d received an e-mail from Time magazine. She’d sent them a query letter, and they were interested in seeing her article on Hiram Donnelly. It wasn’t a guarantee, but then, guarantees came only with toaster ovens. The rest was hard work and luck. Since moving to Gospel, she’d found herself and a man who loved her. She didn’t need a guarantee.
Maybe next she’d write a book. A book about a small town where the people ate Rocky Mountain oysters and tossed toilets. Where two elderly twins dyed their hair and plotted the painful deaths of the other’s husband.
Nah, Hope thought as the truck turned into Dylan’s driveway. Fiction had to be truer than real life, or no one would believe it. No one would believe a town like Gospel existed outside of her writer’s imagination.
Not even she was that good.