Page 56 of A Date With Death

She snorted.

“Okay, maybe not quite the middle just yet. Hopefully.”

“Is this going somewhere?”

He motioned toward the wheelchair. “I wouldn’t want you to ever regret spending time with a cripple when you could be out with guys your own age doing whatever you want.”

She rolled her eyes with a dramatic toss of her head. “I think you’re confusing me with the self-centered stuck-up jerk who used to be your girlfriend. I’m a little more creative than her. I can figure out lots of fun things to do with you even if you can’t twirl me around a dance floor.”

“Does that mean you could be happy if I never walked again?”

Her mouth fell open and she cupped his face in her hands, all signs of teasing and anger gone as she stared into his eyes. “Oh, Bry. Is that what the doctor said? Are you...are you paralyzed?”

He gently pulled her hands down and kissed them before letting go. “No. I’m not paralyzed. I’ve been very lucky, actually, after being shot twice in my life. Then stabbed. Twice. I just wanted to make sure that if something like that did happen, maybe down the road—considering how dangerous my career can be—that you’d still be okay sticking around.”

Her brows arched in confusion. “Love isn’t based on how mobile you are or what you can do for someone else. Love is when your happiness revolves around the other person’s happiness. Once again, I think you’re confusing me with the ex who shall not be named.”

He grinned.

She frowned.

“Did you just say that you loved me, Teagan? In that unique sassy way of yours?”

She crossed her arms. “That depends.”

“On?”

“On why you’re asking me these stupid questions and why you texted me last night that you had first class tickets waiting for me so I could fly up here today. Thanks for the first class, by the way. That was cool.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for coming.”

She twisted her mouth as if trying to figure something out. “You’re acting awfully strange. And my infinite patience is wearing thin. Out with it. What exactly do you want? Are you asking me to be your girlfriend and you’re worried I’ll dump you because of the chair?”

“Will you?”

“Be your girlfriend? Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“No.”

“We’re done here. Have a nice life, Bryson.” She hopped off his lap and started up the dock.

“I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend,” he called after her.

She raised her hand in the air and made a rude gesture without looking back.

He grinned. “I’m asking you to be my fiancée. For real this time.”

She stopped so fast that she wobbled and almost fell into the water. Once she regained her balance, she slowly turned around. “What...what did you just say?”

He leaned down and flipped the top back on the cooler beside his chair. Then he pulled out a red velvet box and held it up in front of him. “I love you Teagan Eleanor Ray.”

She gasped in outrage. “Did my mother tell you my middle name? I hate it. It makes me sound like an eighty-year-old.”

“Well, maybe that will help with the age gap between us.” He winked.

She marched back to him and stopped a few feet from his chair, eyeing the velvet box in his hands. “Be honest, Bryson. Exactly how much older than me are you?”

“Old enough to teach you a few things that I know you’ll really, really enjoy. And young enough to demonstrate them with an expertise that will make your toes curl.”