As he glanced at her, Lizzie just shook her head and smiled at him. “I don’t need anything more than you.”

“God … I love you. And this should be perfect.”

As in happening in a different place. With a ring. And champagne and a string quartet—

No, he thought, as he properly focused on his Lizzie. She wasn’t Chantal. She wasn’t interested in that country club check list of stuff just so she could share it with her friends in the Wedding Olympics.

Sinking down onto one knee, Lane took her hands in his and kissed each one. As her eyes flared, like she suddenly guessed what was coming and couldn’t believe it, he found himself smiling.

A pool house. Who knew that this was going to happen in a pool house?

Well, better than in front of half the Charlemont Metro Police Department with their guns drawn.

“Will you marry me?” he said.

SIXTEEN

Edward took the long way home, coasting over the rural lanes that wound in and out of Ogden County’s famous horse farms, the headlights of Shelby’s truck the only illumination anywhere in the rolling landscape, the window all the way down beside him. The air was warm and gentle on his face and he breathed deep a lot … but his hands were tight on the wheel, and his gut was rolling.

He kept thinking of Sutton with that politician of hers.

Indeed, from all he’d heard, the Shit Dagney was actually a gentleman. The governor had been faithful to his wife, and unlike a lot of men, after he’d become a widower, he hadn’t run off with some twenty-five-year-old rent-a-fantasy. Instead, he’d focused on his kids and the Commonwealth.

And you could actually believe all that was true because if there had been anything to the contrary, the newspapers would have reported it or the man’s opponents would have brought it out during the campaigns.

So, yes, a gentleman through and through, it seemed. But that didn’t mean he was dead from the neck down. Hell, a man would have to be insane not to recognize Sutton as a full-blooded woman. And the fact that she was worth billions of dollars didn’t hurt, either.

Even penniless, though, she would have been a catch beyond measure. She was levelheaded. Fun. Passionate. Silly and sweet and smart. Capable of standing up to a man and calling him on his stupidity, while at the same time making you feel every ounce of testosterone in your body.

But she was wrong about one thing. That man, sitting governor or not, was going to make a move on her tonight.

The shit.

The truly pathetic thing was, however, that the governor’s amorous side wasn’t what really bothered Edward. It was Sutton’s rightful response that, as much as he hated to admit it, was the real reason he was out here, going around in circles.

Bottom line, the Shit Dagney was an amazing man, worthy of her in too many ways to count. And she was going to figure that out.

And there was nothing that Edward could do about it.

Or should do about it, for heaven’s sake. Come on, what the hell was wrong with him? Why in the good goddamn would he want to cheat her out of a potentially fulfilling, happy, healthy relationship—

Because I want her for myself.

As his inner voice went center stage and bullhorn, the only thing that stopped him from driving into a tree just to shut the thing up was the fact that he had no right to wreck Shelby’s truck.

So he settled for banging the steering wheel a couple of times and carpet-bombing the inside of the cab with the f-word.

Many miles and miles later, when Edward finally decided to actually go to the Red & Black instead of drive around like a sixteen-year-old kid whose cheerleader girlfriend was going to the prom with another football player, he discovered that he’d managed to burn through half a tank of Shelby’s gas. Pulling into a Shell station, he eased up to one of three vacant pumps and went for his credit card—but nope. No wallet.

Cursing, he got back in and went on to the Red & Black’s main entrance. As he turned in between the two stone pillars, he was no closer to feeling at peace, but driving around all night and leaving Shelby on empty wasn’t the solution. All that was going to get him was a hitchhike proposition and an embarrassing conversation when she and Moe and/or Joey had to go and bring her truck home.

After parking in front of Barn B, Edward took the keys with him and then doubled back to crank the window up. Limping over to the cottage, he opened the door and expected it to be empty.

Instead, Shelby was asleep in his chair, her legs tucked up to her chest and her head kicked to the side. Looking past her, he saw the kitchen had been cleaned up, and he would have bet the last of his mobility that there was a bowl full of that stew waiting in the refrigerator for him.

He shut the door softly. “Shelby?”

She came awake, jumping from the chair with a lithe surge he envied. Her ponytail had gotten shoved out of place, and she yanked the tie free, her hair tumbling around her shoulders.

It was longer than he’d thought. Blonder, too.

“What time is it?” she said as she regathered the waves, tying them back up again.

“Almost ten o’clock.”

“The mare isn’t coming in now, is she?”

“No, she is not.”

“I left you a bowl in the refrigerator.”

“I know.” He found himself tracking her movements, everything from the subtle shift of her feet to the way she tucked that stray hair behind her ear. “I know you did. Thank you.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

As she went by him, he took her arm. “Don’t go.”

She didn’t look at him. Her eyes … they stayed on the floorboards beneath their boots. But her breath quickened and he knew what her answer was going to be.

“Stay with me tonight,” he heard himself say. “Not for sex. Just … stay with me.”

Shelby didn’t move for the longest time.

But in the end, she took his hand, and he followed her into the dim bedroom. The glow from the security lights on the barns bled through the homemade gingham curtains, casting gentle shadows off the plain bureau and the modest, queen-sized bed that didn’t even have a head-board.

He wasn’t sure there were sheets under the duvet.

He’d been sleeping in that chair a lot since he’d moved in. Or passing out in the damn thing was more like it.

Edward went into the bathroom and used the facilities before brushing his teeth. When he came out, she had pulled the covers back.