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Macie sobered. “No. Just a naked woman facedown on your table. Interesting choice of position on her part.”

Hank had always admired Macie’s cleverness. Now he wished she was a little less astute. “She saw us.”

Macie blanched. “She saw you, me, and Porter?”

“Yeah.” Hank was as disturbed by that as Macie.

“Shit.”

Hank watched her absorb that information. It only took her a few seconds and then, in true Macie fashion, she forgot about it and found another squirrel to focus on. “She thinks I’m too young for you.”

Hank tilted his head curiously. “Part of that conversation last week?”

Macie nodded.

“Still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me she’d been here.”

“She pushed the right buttons. I was feeling a bit sensitive about it. And then I felt dumb for letting her win.”

“What did she say?”

“The same stuff a lot of folks are probably saying behind our backs. That we’re a mismatch. That I’m not well suited to be a rancher’s wife. As you know, my talents lie in making killer margaritas and gossip, not cooking or cleaning up horse shit.”

“I like margaritas. And a good story.”

Macie looked at him, her expression serious, pensive. “I think maybe I should reconsider my stance on moving in here. Apparently you’re a hotter commodity than I thought. Better to stake my claim now than to have to keep fighting off the old maids.”

Her eyes were pure mischief, and he laughed, loudly.

He decided the time was right. Walking to the spice cabinet, he pulled out the ring box he’d hidden there a week earlier. “You know,” he teased, “I’m not sure just moving in is enough. It’s like you said at the beginning. Open season on Hank Cooper.”

Macie stared at his hand. “You had a ring box in your spice cabinet?”

“Figured that was the best hiding place in the house. No way you’d find it there.”

“Hank,” she whispered, when he got down on one knee.

“Seems to me your safest bet at keeping hold of me is to hop on a plane to Vegas with me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Vegas? Don’t toy with me, Coop.”

He opened the box, revealing the diamond he’d picked up in Douglas. He’d lied to her the night he’d gotten home for his birthday dinner. There had been no traffic jam on the highway. There was no way he could buy a ring in Maris and manage to get home with it before seventy-two people called to tell her about his purchase, so he’d stopped by a store in Douglas.

“Marry me, Whiskey Eyes.” He took the ring from the box and slid it on her finger.

“Oh. Holy shit,” she whispered, her gaze locked on her finger.

He rose, grasping her elbows to pull her up, as she continued to stare at the ring. “Say yes, Macie.”

“Yes.” Finally, her gaze lifted to his and she smiled.

He sealed the deal with a kiss. “I love you.”

Macie cupped his cheek. “I love you too. I have to call the restaurant and tell Adele! And Sydney. And Jeannette. And?—”

“I think I’ve caught the theme.” Hank laughed. His first intention had been to drag her to bed, but he should have known hers would be to shout it from the rafters. She had a juicy bit of news to share. Apparently that trumped sex.

The fruit didn’t fall far from that tree.