His mouth was dry, his tongue thick. He had his hands in his lap, the napkin he held in a death grip. Colton bounced his leg underneath the table, his nerves running high. He stared at Sugar. Whatever she was saying was going in one ear and out the other. It wasn’t because he wasn’t interested, but instead because his mind was consumed with one thing.

Over the last few weeks he’d really thought about his talk with Flynn. He loved Sugar, had never cared about anybody as much as he did her. The very thought of her not in his life was not something he wanted to even entertain. But they hadn’t known each other very long, and what he was going to ask her, what he wanted to do, could very well send her in the other direction.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He blinked a few times and looked up at her. Her brows were furrowed, confusion on her face. The way the light hit her skin, causing it to glow, causing the curls in her hair to really stand out, had his fingers itching to touch her.

Who the hell was he kidding? He always wanted to touch her. She could be in a burlap sack covered in dirt from head to toe and he’d still want her desperately.

“I’m good, yeah, I’m good.” He cleared his throat and reached for his wine glass, bringing it to his mouth and taking a long drink.

“Really? ‘Cause you seem the total opposite of good.”

Damn, why was his throat so dry, so tight? The feel of the little black box on the inside of his suit jacket pressed right over his heart. It felt heavy, so damn heavy that he just wanted to reach inside and pull it out, pop open the lid and ask her what he really wanted to.

He placed his hand on his chest, right over his heart and the ring box. He stared at her, saw the confusion deepen on her face.

“Colton, what’s going on? You’re really out of it tonight.” She leaned back in the chair and reached for her wine glass, taking a long sip as she watched him over the rim. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but can we just get to it? If you have something on your mind let’s talk.”

He could see the spark of annoyance on her face, hear it in her voice, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. That was his girl, not about to beat around the bush when it was something she had to say.

The waiter came by and cleared off their place settings, and once they were alone again he felt his heart beating hard in his chest, heard that steady thumping noise in his ears. He licked his lips, his mouth dry. So. Damn. Dry.

Was this too fast? Was asking Sugar to marry him going to freak her out and have her running in the other direction?

Shit, if he was in her situation he might very well think he was fucking nuts for wanting to propose. But as he looked into her face, knew how she felt for him, how she looked at him, Colton felt that reserve and fear lessen.

He loved her, dammit. He loved her and he wanted her to know it. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

And he did know one thing for sure, and that was this was the right decision.

“Sugar, baby, when I’m with you I feel complete, whole.” He swallowed past that damn lump in his throat. “I can look into your eyes and see my whole damn life right in front of me. I can see my future.” The way she watched him, her eyes widening, the surprise over what he said filtering over her face, told him he’d shocked her by his words.

He had to admit, he wasn’t the most romantic man, or he’d never been before. He hadn’t been a lot of things before Sugar came into his life.

“I can be a hard man when it comes to my business. It’s just who I’ve always been, who I always saw myself as. I never saw myself settling down. I didn’t want to … not until you came into my life. I have you by my side and I know I don’t want to hide this relationship. I don’t want to keep this a secret because I love you so much it fucking hurts.” He rubbed his chest again, right over his heart, right over the ring. “I probably sound like a damn lunatic right now,” he said under his breath and closed his eyes. He shook his head, the very thought of Sugar not wanting the same things he did—a long life together—physically making him ill.

“Hey,” she said softly and reached across the table to place her hand on his. He still had his other hand over his chest, wanting to pull the ring out and get on one knee right here and now. “You don’t have to be so nervous. You’re kind of freaking me out.”

Baby, you have no idea.

“I see myself with you forever. I see you as the mother of my children, my partner, my wife.” He licked his lips, the feeling of his throat closing in strong.

Do it.

Say it.

Ask her.

He stood and walked over to her. She shifted on her chair, looking up at him with confusion on her face. And then he dropped to one knee and her eyes widened. She placed a hand over her mouth, clearly knowing what was about to happen right now.

Pulling the ring box out from his pocket, he popped the lid and presented it to her. Then, with his heart on his sleeve, his pulse in his throat, and so much fucking anxiety riding him, he asked, “Sugar, will you marry me?”