Page 15 of Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend (Catching Feelings #1)

CHAPTER NINE

SEAN

E veryone else has cleared out, including my parents, who gave me a trusting smile when Kayla and I met them on the concourse. Tripp looked suspicious. But his friends and their wives looked excited, if shocked.

“I know you’ve talked about Sean, but you didn’t say you two were that close!” Ash said when she hugged Kayla.

“It was sudden, but when you know you know!” she said, and she didn’t even sound panicked.

Granted, her eyes looked like they were fixing to pop out of her head, but I was the only one who could see them.

Even Fletch, who has a chip on his shoulder the size of a boulder, seemed not unhappy.

“If you think I’m going to call you boss, you’ve got another thing coming,” he said, pounding my back.

I laughed. “Be nice, or I’ll have my fiancée fire you.”

Scottie alone looked like she was in on the con. “What great timing!” she said, her eyes too sharp for a smile so soft. “I imagine you’ll elope in the next, what, six days?”

“Give or take,” Kayla said, her own eyes sharp but playful.

“I couldn’t be happier for you. Or for the team,” she said before giving us a meaningful look. Then it was on to the next well-wisher.

And now, it’s just me and Kayla, standing in the quiet hush of the parking lot.

Her Mercedes Benz glints under the lights like it knows it doesn’t belong among the gravel, potholes, and my dusty old truck a few rows down.

It’s the only other vehicle left.

We’ve held hands all night, because there were always eyes on us. Friends. Teammates. Her staff.

It was part of the show.

But when the last set of taillights disappeared down the road and the congratulations faded into memory, I let go of her hand.

And I missed it immediately.

I’m not going to say something overdramatic like I felt like a limb was cut off having to drop her hand.

But I missed it.

Kayla raps her long fingers on the hood of her car. Each tap sends out a low, metallic ring that reverberates in my chest.

She gives me a half-smile. “Are we really doing this?”

“Getting married?” I ask, nodding toward her hand. “Ask your ring finger.”

She laughs, and the sound of it sets my insides on fire—makes me want to lean forward and claim her big, gorgeous mouth. See if that spark we felt the other night can burn bigger and brighter.

“The ring is beautiful, Sean,” she says, looking down at her hand with a soft, thoughtful smile, almost like it could feel like hers.

The engagement ring her tool of an ex gave her was gaudy and ornate, and it felt nothing like Kayla. It screamed “Look how rich my fiancé is.”

When I found this one earlier, it felt inadequate. It’s not like a ring could capture her humor or spirit, or—just being honest here—her drop-dead beauty.

But it reminded me of her.

Strong and stunning.

Brave and bold in the face of isolation.

And still able to shine.

“Is it okay … that I asked you like that, I mean? That I asked you at all?”

She lets out a small laugh, and as she ducks her head, her hair falls forward. She puts a hand in it, flipping her mass of waves back. “Yeah. It is. And honestly, thank you. But are you okay with this? You made that promise?—”

“I feel good about it,” I say, my pulse throbbing too fast in my neck. “It helps us both.”

She cocks her head, looking suspicious but playful. “How does this help you?”

I run my hand over my beard. “I’m the clown who made a public vow never to kiss another woman until she was my wife. Do you know how many old ladies lined up to throw their granddaughters at me after that?”

Her head tips back in a laugh, showing her long, lean throat. “Oh, poor Seany. It must be so hard having women throw themselves at you all day.”

I want to grab her hand and tug her toward me. Wrap my arm around her shoulders and bump our heads together.

And it hits me that if I hadn’t just proposed, I might do just that. I would flirt, because that’s the direction we’ve been headed. But now, what if she thinks I expect something from her? What if she worries that I’m trying to …

Trying to take advantage of her?

My stomach drops like a rock.

What have I done?

I need to smile. Laugh it off. I can’t show her that I’m panicking that by making her my fiancée—soon to be my wife —I may have inadvertently stopped anything from actually happening between us.

So I force myself to laugh. “I didn’t say the women are throwing themselves at me. I said their grandmothers are. You haven’t seen Eunice and Loretta on a mission like when one of their granddaughters comes to town. That’s some Advanced Husband Hunting.”

Her smile is so bright, it could light up a stadium. And just seeing that smile, hearing that generous laugh, makes me feel better.

How does she do that? How does she make people feel comfortable so effortlessly? And why can’t the rest of the town see it? A smile from Kayla is as good as a hug from anyone else.

“So, we probably have some things to work out,” she says. “Like a venue and a date. Or is this a courthouse affair?”

“I ain’t marrying you in a courthouse.”

“How do you really feel?”

I chuckle.

“I can see if Tripp’s farm has any availability,” she offers. “They do a lot of weddings there.”

“No, it’s gotta be in Mullet Ridge. We need the town to see you as one of us.”

“Good point.”

“Where would you want to get married? If this were real?” I ask, my throat dry.

She cocks her head like I’ve taken her off guard.

“I’ve never thought about it.”

“What?” I laugh in disbelief. ”You were weeks away from marrying Aldridge. Are you saying that wasn’t your dream wedding?”

The look she gives me is dripping with sass. “I was marrying Aldridge Sinclair. Do you think I had a choice in anything? His mother ran that show. I was window dressing.”

Why does this hit like a punch? Thinking of this vibrant woman being pushed to the side and pulled out like a prop is like thinking of someone asking the sun to hide in the closet and not shine so bright. It makes my hands ball into fists.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “It should have been your show.”

“Maybe if I’d cared more, I would’ve fought for it,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Hey, I know this is a marriage with an agenda, but I need you to know the agenda is yours .”

“No.” Kayla says firmly. “I don’t want that. If we’re doing this, it has to work for both of us. The ordinance requires a year to establish residency. That’s too long for either of us to be unhappy.”

A quiet laugh escapes me.

“What?” she asks.

“You really are nothing like Serena. I don’t think she asked me a single question about what I wanted our relationship to look like, let alone our wedding.”

Kayla frowns, and maybe it’s just the reflection of the parking lot lights, but her eyes look almost wet.

“Sean, let’s not relegate each other to the roles we’ve played for other people. This marriage is clearly—” she pauses, like she’s hunting for the right word— “unique.”

“A creative solution,” I supply.

“Born of extenuating circumstances.“

“Convenient.”

She laughs. “Right. But that doesn’t mean our relationship has to be. We’ve already established a friendship, and if that doesn’t grow over the next year, we’re doing something wrong.”

“I like that,” I say, although I think I want our “friendship” to grow differently than she might. “So, where do we want to get married?”

“You said it has to be local, and you’re right. The town resents me enough. So it needs to be something in town, and something that would make sense and feel meaningful to anyone who questions our sincerity. Something real but romantic.”

“No pressure,” I tease.

And then something hits me.

“Can I show you something? A place I think might work?”

“Of course.”

She presses something on her phone, unlocking the car doors, and then she walks around to the passenger side of her Mercedes.

“Are you sure you trust me to drive your car?” I ask. “We can take my truck.”

She smiles. Retractable door handles extend, and she pulls on one, opening her door and waiting for me to open mine. “I trust you enough to marry you. Driving my car really doesn’t compare.”

She slides into the passenger seat, and a moment later, I’m getting into the driver’s seat.

I expect my knees to be halfway to my ears, but the legroom is unreal. I move the seat all the way back, and I’m shocked that my thighs don’t brush the dash. I don’t even have to duck to see the road.

“I’ve never fit in a sedan before.”

“See?” she asks, buckling. “We’re a good match already.”

I agree more than I should.

After only a ten minute car ride, I’m addicted to the eerie smoothness and handling.

“Honestly, I think I’d get married in this car,” I say as I pull up to our destination.

Kayla laughs, but she’s biting her bottom lip, like … like she’s glad I like her car.

I’ve driven us to the baseball stadium. We park far out in the lot, and Kayla looks around, like she’s waiting for a surprise.

“What are we doing here?”

“Follow me.”

We get out and meet at the front of the car. When Kayla starts walking toward the stadium, I grab her shoulders and point them in the opposite direction.

“Actually, it’s this way.”

I keep my hands on her lean, toned shoulders longer than necessary, but not as long as I’d like, either. And in only a minute, we’re walking into the old baseball diamond. The one we talked about earlier today.

I pull out my phone and am about to turn on the flashlight when Kayla gasps.

The field is full of lightning bugs.

Fireflies.

She grabs my hand and pulls me out to the pitcher’s mound.

The fireflies drift lazily around us, unconcerned by our presence, like they’ve claimed this space as theirs but don’t mind sharing.

All around, soft pinpricks of gold float in the dark, suspended like stars that got tired of the sky but can’t bear to touch the ground.

“Oh my goodness,” she breathes, dropping my hand so she can turn around in circles. Awe fills her face. “It’s beautiful.”