She laughed and eased back to look up at him. Her palm tested the stubble along his jaw. Three days’ worth of growth made things itchy as hell, but well worth the discomfort. Izzy had a little kink for the beard, and he had a big kink for her, so, win-win. “I was talking with my parents, actually. They say hi. They’re very excited about the trip.”
“Late April works for them?”
“Yep.” Her smile softened with affection. “They’re so funny. They want to see Captivity. They want to go to Glacier Bay. They want to take a cruise. Oh, they’re kind of interested in meeting you, too.”
“That’s mutual,” he assured her. “Did you invite them to stay at the house while they’re here?”
“I didn’t, yet.” Her cheeks went pink. “I know I’m a grown woman, and they know it too, but they’re semi-traditional when it comes to relationships. I don’t want to make things weird.”
“You mean weird like us sleeping in different rooms while they’re visiting?”
She pointed an index finger at him. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
“Well, Izzy, it turns out I’m semi-traditional, too. And I am feeling a bit weird the way things currently sit.”
“You are? Really?” Her eyes went narrow and skeptical. “You didn’t seem at all conflicted last night when we were—”
“Be that as it may”—he reached into his pocket and closed his fist around the item he’d retrieved—“I think it would be best, all around, if you”—he opened his fist to reveal the platinum and diamond ring glittering on his palm—“agree to marry me.”
Her eyes went wide, then lifted to his. Her hand came up to hover by his. “Oh my God,” she whispered. Vaguely, he realized all conversations around them stopped. The bar had grown silent. Everyone watched and waited.
“Is that a yes?”
Before she could answer, Rose muttered, “Hold on,” reached past Izzy, and picked up the ring. She gave it a one-eyed inspection, then swiveled around and dragged the diamond along the rim of her pint glass. She followed up by rubbing her thumb along the same path. Finally, she nodded, and placed the ring back in his palm. “It’s good. She says yes.”
Izzy laughed.
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and counted to ten. “Hey, thanks Rose,” he said, not really caring if his voice dripped sarcasm, “but I’d just as soon hear it from the woman I actually proposed to.”
Pinching the ring between his thumb and forefinger, he held it out to her. “It’s a French-set halo diamond band, blah, blah, blah. Danny has the specifics if anyone needs them.” He sent Rose a pointed look, before switching his attention back to Izzy. “He texted me about a billion links to different options. Apparently, he’s given your engagement ring a lot of thought. He also volunteers to be your man of honor. All you have to do, Izzy, is say yes.”
“Yes,” she whispered, and held out her hand. He took it and slipped the ring onto her finger. “Yes,” she said again, and blinked up at him with watery eyes. She curled her free hand around his neck.
He swiped at a tear with his thumb, then leaned close and murmured in her ear. “Don’t cry, baby. It’s a diamond, not an orgasm.”
That earned him a choked laugh. “I can’t help it. I cry when I’m happy.”
“Well then, Izzy, I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you cry.” With that promise hanging in the air between them, he captured her lips for a kiss.
The room erupted in cheers and applause. A cork popped, and seconds later Ford put two flutes of champagne on the bar in front of them. Toasts were made, hugs and back slaps exchanged, questions asked—first and foremost, regarding a wedding date.
“I know it’s kind of a short timeline”—he looked at Izzy—“but I thought maybe you’d like to have the ceremony in Captivity while your parents are here?”
She nodded, beaming. “I’d love that. They’d love that.”
Bridget wedged between them, gave him a bone-crushing hug and a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Congratulations.” Turning, she gave Izzy the same treatment. “I’ll settle for bridesmaid, since it sounds like this Danny guy has man of honor locked, but just so we’re clear, I draw the line at seafoam green taffeta.”
“Understood,” Izzy said solemnly, “but obviously I’m going to have to make the bridesmaids dresses extra ugly if you and Lilah agree to stand with me.”
“Ugly’s fine. Just no seafoam.”
Lilah came over for hugs as well. Then they talked dresses while Trace watched Mad step into the bar, followed by a GQ-looking guy with short, disheveled blond hair, sharp eyes, and a climber’s build. The man behind the custom private jet, Trace surmised.
The stranger glanced around the bar, clearly searching for something, until his eyes snagged on Bridget. Then his expression turned to one Trace couldn’t readily identify, except maybe…longing? Not the typical lust-from-across-a-bar look Bridget routinely inspired, but something deeper. More familiar. Laced with what looked like a possessive streak that, frankly, raised his big brother hackles.
Trace stood as the man approached. He caught Trace watching, smiled, and raised a finger to his lips. Okay, fine. What could the guy pull in a room full of people? Bridget, unaware, faced the bar and continued talking with Lilah and Izzy while Ford topped off their flutes. The man stepped close to Bridget, reached around to cover her eyes, and leaned close. “Hey, Bridge. Guess who?”
His sister froze. From his position he watched her lips part on a quick inhale, then firm into a disciplined line, and then, very deliberately, lift into a tight smile. She shook him off, turned, and stared at her surprise visitor with haughty calm. “Little Archie Ellison, as I live and breathe.”
There was nothing little about Archer Ellison, and everything about him from his solid stance to the confident glint in his eyes said he knew it, but he let the dismissive greeting pass without comment. “Hello, Bridget Shanahan. You’re beautiful. More beautiful than ever.”
“Drink it in while you can, ’cause I’m on my way out.” She shot a glance at Trace. “I’m off to do the thing.”
“Right.” He nodded. “The thing. Take care.”
“Always.” She winked, then pivoted, braced the toe of a work boot on the brass rail that ran along the bottom of the bar, leaned across the smooth, wood expanse, and sank her hands into Ford’s hair. “Later,” she murmured and fused her lips to his.
Ford hadn’t earned a badass retired military rep for not having a clue. He cupped a hand under Bridge’s jaw and held her there while he gave as good as he got.