Page 51 of Overtime Goal (Buffalo Warriors Hockey #4)

Before I could blink, he unleashed the magic foam, and the flames sputtered out. Relief soared through me, and I almost cheered. Sure, we’d lost the asparagus, but the rest of dinner was safe. I can salvage this.

Then I looked at the counter, and my stomach dropped through the floor. Extinguisher dust was everywhere. Roast, potatoes, salad. Hell, even the dinner rolls were fucked.

Grinning like this was the best entertainment he’d had all week, Logan deadpanned, “So, takeout?”

Like he’d pushed a button, tears streamed down my face. “It’s ruined,” I choked out.

Logan had started fanning smoke toward the open back door, but he ran over and wrapped me in a hug. “Everything’s okay,” he said. “The fire’s out.”

“B-but… dinner. Gone.”

“It’s fine, babe. Try not to stress.”

Easy for him to say. How could he be Mr. Zen when I was sweating through my shirt and wondering if engagement rings were refundable?

He turned me toward the door. “Go outside and get some fresh air.”

So I went, trying to breathe like a normal human while he opened windows, dragged out a fan, and generally acted like he was starring in a video called “How to Handle Kitchen Fires Without Losing Your Shit.” Meanwhile, I was wondering how the hell I could propose after ruining dinner.

He finally came outside. “Feeling better?”

“A little.” Total lie.

“Let’s order something. You’ll feel better once we eat.”

Takeout, really? I refused to go down like that.

“Nope. I’ve got this covered.” I marched inside to the pantry and hauled out bread, peanut butter, and jelly.

Probably worried I’d lost my mind, Logan had followed me inside, so I turned to him and held up the supplies like I was unveiling the crown jewels. “Gourmet à la Riley.”

He laughed, and when I noticed how his eyes crinkled, a little of my anxiety let go. If I could make him laugh, maybe I could save the evening.

A few minutes later, we were outside with PB&Js and glasses of Barolo.

It was a cool evening, and the stars were out.

The lingering smell of smoke was fading.

Setting the kitchen on fire hadn’t been my proudest moment, but Logan was leaning back in his chair, smiling at me as though I’d given him something better than roast beef.

“Delicious sandwich,” he said. “They’re never this good when I make them.”

It was bullshit, but I loved him for saying it. He had jelly on his thumb, and I almost leaned over to lick it off, but then I froze.

Focus, Riley. He still loves you. Proposal first, kisses later.

Adrenaline shot through me, and even though rapid-fire heartbeats made it hard to breathe, I cleared my throat. Of course, I couldn’t remember a word of the speech I’d memorized. Why the fuck didn’t I print it instead of trusting my goldfish brain?

I licked my lips, and my damn tongue was shaking.

“So, um. This wasn’t the plan.” Smooth. Real smooth.

“I had a speech. It was going to be epic. It had love, forever, and even some poetry. Then I torched the asparagus, set the kitchen on fire, and now we’re eating peanut butter like middle schoolers.

And I’ve forgotten every damn word of my speech. ”

Logan tilted his head. His eyes were soft, and he smiled. There was no judgment. Just the man who loved me.

Fuck it. I got up, knelt beside him, and took his hand. “The thing is, none of that matters. Nothing matters but you. You’re it, Blue Eyes, my man. You always will be.”

He gulped.

Shit. The ring.

I’d stashed the puck box at the far corner of the deck, so I dropped his hand and shot to my feet.

Panic hit again as I ran for it, grabbed the box, raced back, and practically dove back to my knees.

“I… um… Shit.” I sucked in a breath and forced the words out.

“I love you, and I don’t want to ever have to live without you.

Would you… I mean, will you… God, Logan. ”

The ring, dumbass!

I held up the puck box and removed the cover, nearly dropping it in the process. Before I could mess anything else up, I shoved it at him. An official Warriors puck was inside, and I’d taped a ring to it. Small pieces of turquoise were set in gold.

“That’s the puck from my first goal in the league. Remember how I scored in my second game with the Warriors? It was the biggest moment of my life until I fell in love with you. So now the puck’s yours.”

He stared at it for a long time before looking at me, and then at the puck again. His eyes widened so much I couldn’t tell if he was about to laugh or cry. Or maybe call the hockey cops to report my terrible timing.

“You…” His voice cracked, but he cleared his throat and tried again. “You’re giving me your first-goal puck?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Do I get the ring too?”

“Fuck yes.” My heart did a weird thump-squeeze thing, and the words came out like machine-gun fire.

“Figured it was the most important thing I owned. Well, second-most important. The most important one is sitting here eating a PB&J like it’s from the best restaurant in Positano.

And I didn’t mean… well, I don’t own you, but you’re mine.

Right?” I snagged a quick breath. “So.” I pointed at the ring, my hand jerking like I’d completely lost control of it. “Marry me?”

It was time to shut up and let him answer, so I pressed my lips together.

His eyes shimmered in the starlight, and he opened his mouth a couple of times but didn’t say anything.

For once, Logan, always the calm, steady one, was speechless.

Resisting the temptation to start babbling again, I kept my mouth closed.

Finally, he laughed. It was choked and shaky, but it sounded real. He said only three words, “You’re a disaster.”

My stomach plummeted. “Uh… so that’s a no?”

He leaned over, grabbed my face with both hands, and kissed me hard enough to make my toes tremble. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine. “You’re my disaster, and I love you so much I can’t even think. My answer’s yes, babe. A thousand times, yes.”

Everything in me combusted at once, and I went even crazier than I had when the fire broke out.

Laughing, crying, and trying not to topple over, I kept my eyes on him like I was afraid he’d run.

When I pulled myself together, I tried for a smirk.

“Guess the speech was overrated. You said yes anyway.”

He kissed me again. It was softer than the first time, like we were sealing the deal. This time, I pulled away. “Give me the box.” He handed it over, and I took the ring off the puck and looked at him again. “Put out your hand.”

Chuckling, he did as I asked. “Getting bossy again? You know how that turns me on.”

“Yeah, we’ll do that in a minute, but first things first.” I slipped the ring on his finger and looked into his eyes.

“This ring’s gold because you deserve nothing less.

The stones are turquoise to remind you of Positano and the Mediterranean.

It’s a symbol of my love and devotion. I’m the luckiest man in the world, and I can’t wait to marry you.

” I swallowed, and my lips spasmed into a grin.

“Oh, and hot damn. I remembered that part of the speech.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “You really are a disaster.”

“But you’ll still marry me?”

“Yes, I will.” He held up his hand and studied the ring. “This is the most gorgeous thing anyone’s ever given me. I love it, but not as much as I love you.”

“I love you too, Blue Eyes. Thank you for being so patient with me back when we were getting together. If you hadn’t been, this wouldn’t be happening, and I can’t imagine spending my life without you.”

He stood and said, “Come here.”

I got up, and we kissed again: slow at first, then turning hungry before softening into something that felt like forever. We held on for a long time, neither of us ready to move.

“Want to go inside and make things official?” he whispered. “I need you.”

“Need you too,” I said. “Let’s go celebrate.”

He took my hand and led me into the house. The nightmares had faded since I’d started therapy, replaced by dreams about him. About us. But tonight was no dream. It was my life, the one I never thought I’d have.

I didn’t need anything else. I had him, and I was never letting go.