My eyes close, trying to quell the deluge of tears I’m no longer able to keep at bay. It doesn’t work, the downpour comes. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Cooper cups my cheeks, his thumbs catching the salty stream as he moves in closer. “Shhh … I know,” he says. “I know. I’m sorry. But I knew you’d have given up anything for a chance for Kyle and I had to do it.”

“I missed you every day.” My soft cry intensifies. Weeks of pent-up emotions all break free at once. “When we went back to Barbados, I saw you everywhere I looked. Losing you felt like I lost a piece of myself.” Crying turns to an ugly sob.

He lets me weep it all out, holding me tightly while it all washes away. Sadness, anger, regret, doubt, hurt. When I finally calm, he brings his hand to my face and wipes away every last tear. Silence falls between us as our eyes meet and I confess what I’ve known for months but never admitted out loud.

“I love you. So much.”

His eyes close, relief softens his face as he draws me near. He kisses my forehead, then presses his to mine. We communicate with only our eyes for a long moment. I watch in utter amazement, completely captivated as a transformation in his gaze takes form. The golden sunflowers in the middle of his beautiful green sea blossom, coming alive again.

The allure of our attraction can’t be denied and neither can the love. He cups the back of my neck with one hand, and the other strokes my cheek. Slowly, his mouth grazes over mine. It’s a whisper-soft touch, but it’s enough to awaken every nerve in my body. Lord, I want this man. Love this man with all of my heart.

“Remember the first night we met in this room? I had the little chip I always carry with me out for luck?” I push my lips against his again.

“Every time you swiped your little finger over it, you won.”

I smile. “Winning wasn’t luck. That was talent. I wished for you.”

“You didn’t have to wish,” he breathes. “You had me from the moment my eyes landed on you.”

Epilogue

Kate—

Six months later

“I’m calling last hand. I have an early meeting in the morning,” Cooper says, leaning back in his chair with an easy smile. His stack of chips is nearly depleted—it usually is, but these nights once a month are some of the happiest and carefree times.

Last month, I decided to get a little daring with my bets. I’d come straight from school and didn’t have anything of value to enter for the last hand. So, not unlike the first day I met Cooper, I tore a piece of paper from my purse, scribbled something and tossed the folded up paper into the pot.

I threw three kings face down to lose to Cooper’s pair of fives. He mumbled something about what would have happened if Ben or Frank had won, as he guided my head down into his lap to collect his prize on the drive home.

But tonight I’ve come prepared. We’d spent the last two days arguing over the car he bought me. My Jeep broke down for the third time in as many weeks and he hates that I don’t have what he calls reliable transportation. It’s bad enough he won’t let me pitch in toward any of the household expenses since I moved in a month ago. I certainly don’t need him buying me a new car.

With a daring smile, I dangle the keys in the air for a second before dropping them into the center of the pile. Frank whistles, catching a glimpse of the Range Rover key fob, and tosses in a watch. Ben opens a bag on the floor and parks a tall awards statue in the middle of the table. Heads turn to see what Cooper will be anteing tonight.

Yielding a mix of anger and playfulness in his penetrating glare, Cooper takes a piece of paper from his pocket, scribbles something, and arches an eyebrow to me as he tosses it to the center of the table.

Frank and Ben drop out with a huff when I raise. I really want to win, although I’m not sure if the thought of Cooper having to keep the Ranger Rover or what’s inside the folded-up note is a bigger incentive.

The luck I’ve had all evening runs dry as I peek at my crappiest hand of the night—not even a pair amongst the five cards I’m dealt. But I don’t let that deter me at all. Keeping only the two red hearts and discarding everything else, I brush my finger over my old black lucky chip as I lift my three replacement cards.

Watching me intently, Cooper never says anything, but I know he doesn’t believe in any of my lucky charms.

With a knowing grin, he turns over five different cards. A losing hand even if I hadn’t been lucky in my draw and picked up the three tens that I did. I rake the pile in and ceremoniously drop it into my purse. Whatever prize is written on that paper is best read when we’re alone.

“You know, you don’t need to throw your game so I can collect the prize you’re offering. I can beat you fair and square,” I say, coming out of the bathroom after getting ready for bed. One of the things I love best about living here is the unfettered access to his dress shirts. It might be one of the things Cooper likes best too, seeing as I rarely button them.

“Who said I threw the game?”

I shake my head and walk to my purse to dig out what I’ve won. “Not even you play cards that bad. But it doesn’t matter. I’m looking forward to collecting my prize anyway.” It takes me a minute to dig the little folded-up square from my bag, my smile already in place anticipating what sort of perverted words I’ll find.

Feeling Cooper’s eyes burning into me, I unfold the note painstakingly slowly, a sort of mental foreplay. I wet my lips in anticipation, but they part finding what he’s written: two words, and not the two that I expected. Marry me.