“You do have exquisite taste,” I compliment the tall drink of water in front of me.

By exquisite, I mean a huge commission check for me. Damn, who snatched this one up? Probably some woman who never blows him or lets him do anything other than missionary. A shame really since he’ll probably cheat on her…with someone like me.

I reach down to grab another ring, unbuttoning one more button on my blouse. I’d go down on him in the stock room if he’d let me.

“I’m sorry, this isn’t the one.” He pushes back the more expensive ring I placed out. Those that don’t think love comes with a price tag are wrong.

He nibbles on the inside of his cheek, walking past the cases of rings, his gaze searching, his lips never flipping up into a smile.

“May I suggest custom? Many men are designing their own with some help.”

“I’m heading up to Climax Cove this weekend, so I have no time to wait.”

Impromptu proposal? Must’ve knocked her up. Ha.

His long fingers cover the glass, breezing by twenty different rings any celebrity would be happy to wear. Being the go to jewelry store for so many tech guys who suddenly find themselves with model wives after their apps turn them into millionaires, our rings are only for the rich. Hello? Jasper Banks got his ring here just last year. Shame someone grabbed one of the most eligible bachelors in San Fran.

“What spurs such a last-minute proposal?’ I ask, crossing my arms and leaning my weight on the glass case.

His finger stops right before it dives into its unexpected roadblock of my cleavage he wasn’t paying any attention to. He pulls back his hand, stuffing both of them in his pockets and rocks back on his heels.

“I’m not sure I’m finding what I’m looking for. Thank you for your help.” He swivels around to face the door. His strong shoulders stretching the fabric of his shirt. Damn, he really is a fine male specimen.

“Sir. Let me look in back just to be sure there’s no other rings that just came in.”

He stops and his shoulders rise and fall. Maybe I underestimated this guy. Maybe he is one of the rare ones who actually loves the woman he’s going to marry.

Turning back around, his lips are tight, his eyes annoyed.

“I won’t be going back in the storage room with you.” His gaze lands on mine, with a bored expression that could almost make me second guess my self-confidence. Catch the word could? Eight out of ten times, the guy would follow me. Sorry ladies, it’s the truth.

“Of course not. I’ll be right back.” On the way to the vaulted storage area, I button my blouse back up. No need to be any colder than this man already makes me.

I find the latest shipment of rings the owner told me I wasn’t allowed to sell because they were only for our “special” customers. AKA our most wealthy clients who will pimp out the store on social media.

“I think I have something for you.” I walk back into the showroom, finding the man’s head buried in his phone, his fingers sliding across the screen as fast as any teenager’s. He quickly pockets the phone, his attention back to the boxes in my hand. “These are usually reserved.”

He approaches the glass case, looking at the velvet boxes. “I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t afford reserved.” For a man who wasn’t flaunting his money twenty minutes ago, I half figure he might just make my commission for the year to prove me wrong.

“Of course, sir.” I open the first box. The light shines on the enormous five-carat princess cut diamond with rounded edges. The platinum band holds a string of diamonds all the way around. Drool almost slips out of the corner of my mouth.

“That’s the one. Wrap it up.”

My mouth falls open, and I look to find a wide smile plastered on his lips.

“Would you like to know the price?” I ask.

“No. That ring was meant for her finger.”

“Well then.” I snap the box shut. “How will you be paying for this?”

“I suppose the amount I love my girl isn’t an acceptable payment?” He chuckles, seemingly in a much better mood now.

I ring him up, my manicured finger tapping the screen. He stands there patiently waiting for me to finish checking him out. I should thank him for giving me a great Christmas bonus. I hand him the bag. “Your future fiancé is very lucky.”

He takes the bag from my grasp, pulling out the box and stuffing it into his pocket, leaving the bag on the counter. “Nah, I’m the lucky one. Thank you.” He nods.

His comment is cliché, but it still warms my heart that there are men like him out there.

Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to find my own some day.