Six months later, at the compound…

Logan grabbed the supplies and headed for the bunker. Damn surprise drills, always messing up his plans. If he didn’t know better, and Alec didn’t sweep his house regularly, he’d say there were surveillance cameras at his place, and the preppers scheduled survival exercises according to what would fuck him up the worst. He should be home, cozying up with Sky, instead of stashing supplies while his woman was in the compound, humoring these nutjobs.

He entered Doomsdaymart, as Sky called it, and right away heard eighties music coming from the back. Following the tunes, he turned the corner and found Sky wearing cute, very revealing camouflage underwear, a gas mask on top of her head, and those red-hearted rubber boots on her feet. She was lying on an improvised bed, candles all over the place.

Jesus, she was gorgeous. She could rock any look, even the crazy prepper one.

He gulped and made an effort to get his throat to work. “If we set the bunker on fire, we’ll never live it down.”

She laughed, that husky, low laugh that shot straight to his cock and turned him into a stammering, blabbering fool. “I promised your sister I’d keep the extinguisher handy.”

“So we’re back to getting lucky with my sister’s help?” Not that he was going to complain. Today made six months since they’d gotten back together. Since Sky had taken him back after he fucked up, to be exact. He’d had plans for tonight, and not a single one included an emergency drill with a bunch of nosy wackos.

Sky pouted. “You unhappy about it?”

“Fuck no,” he said, going to her. “The music could stand some improvement though.”

“There’s no signal, so I had to make do with the cassette from my car. I found a cassette player down here, can you imagine?”

“Yep, I totally can.”

It had taken him a long while to win her over. That had been nothing compared to the time it had taken to win Arnie over. Even now, if Sky frowned at Logan, he swore Arnie did too.

She wrapped herself around him, kissing him. “You’re cold,” she said, shivering.

Ha, not for long. “That’s what happens when people organize drills in December. Couldn’t we have sat this one out?”

“No way. These are fun. Besides, we’re going to New York to visit Lola for Christmas. We can’t miss the last drill of the year. It would be murderous.”

Right. He remembered when she’d considered eating carbs in the evening murderous. Those were the days.

“You’re going to love spending New Year’s Eve in El Barrio. Va a ser la bomba, papi.”

“Papi what?”

“It’s gonna kick ass, and Lola is going to flip when she hears me speak Spanish.”

“I bet.” Sky had been auditing a Spanish class. He was no expert, but the language must have been somewhere in her head, because in no time she’d made huge progress. Nothing like finding her place among crazy preppers to want to get in touch with her roots.

“Wait till she sees her Christmas present. I need to check how to say ‘bug-out bag’ in Spanish.”

“You’re getting her a bug-out bag?”

“We are getting her a bug-out bag. She needs to be prepared. Just in case.”

Logan tightened his embrace, laughing. “Jesus Christ. You’ve been infected.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen it many times. When a sane person starts dealing with preppers, either they run away screaming, or they get infected.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not infected, I just think we should be… prepared.”

“Exactly. I rest my case.” She had half the town buying and storing coconut oil like there was no tomorrow. And planting aloe vera. And testing the perishability of her concoctions. Sky’s beauty products were a huge success, not only among preppers, but normal humans alike. The little shop she’d opened in Paris and the popularity of her blog, “Prepping in Style,” attested to that.

He’d been ready to move to New York, but she’d refused. She’d transferred her credits so she could finish her degree in Paris and had adapted to NoName surprisingly well. She still whined about the weather and the lousy cell service, and grumbled about how crazy everyone was. But she was sitting ringside at the town meetings, having the time of her life, voting on the most surreal shit.

“What about you?” she asked, helping him get rid of his jacket. “You didn’t run for the hills and you aren’t infected. What’s that?” Damn, she’d noticed the small box in his pocket.

No fucking way. He wasn’t doing this in a bunker. He already had a perfect spot in mind.

“It’s nothing.” By the look on her face, she wasn’t going to let it go, but he forged ahead. “So, our date. Is there a reason you’re waiting for me in your underwear?”

“Do not distract me. What is that?”

“I bought you something, but I planned to give it to you later. For your birthday,” he improvised.

“It’s two months until my birthday. Why are you carrying it around?”

Why? Because this town had it in for him. Of course they had to blast that damn siren just as he was coming home from buying Sky an engagement ring. He would have sat it out, but Sky had been ready on the porch with their two bug-out bags, waiting for him. Arnie by her side. Then Alec and Megan’s truck had skidded into their driveway, and that was it.

“You’re lying to me,” she said, her gaze scrutinizing.

Man, and Logan had been the one admonishing Alec for finding it difficult to lie to his wife.

“I really didn’t want to do this here,” he said, reaching for the box. On the other hand, asking her to marry him in a bunker, with her wearing camouflage underwear, was the kind of crazy that fitted their lives perfectly.

He opened the box and showed the ring to her. The classiest, most expensive one he’d been able to find.

“That’s an engagement ring.” Her voice broke. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“What do you think, Butterfly?”

“You’re already married.”

He tipped her face up to capture her gaze. “No, not anymore. Vivienne signed the divorce papers today.” After months of legal fighting, he’d gotten his freedom. First thing after the signing, he’d gone to buy Sky an engagement ring.

She gaped at him, looking affronted. “You sent me running around the forest and didn’t think to tell me you got divorced? Why didn’t you say anything before? I thought you were traveling on business.”

“Stop stalling. I’ll answer all your questions later, after you answer mine. Are you going to marry me?”

He was feeling fucking unsure. Sky had adapted to life in the backwoods very well, but she was a stylish woman. A love declaration in a bunker, after insane survival training in the forest, freezing their butts, could hardly be her dream scenario.

She didn’t hesitate a second. She threw herself at him, knocking him down. “Yes, yes, yes! Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Relief flooded him. “Really?”

“Of course, you silly.”

“Thank God. I thought a proposal in a bunker was going to be a deal breaker. I had plans to do this in another place.”

She smirked. “Where? In the greenhouse?”

He shook his head and reached for his cell, bringing up the reservations. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want to see, so I bought tickets for all of them.”

“All what?” she asked, confused.

“All the fashion shows,” he said, handing her the cell. “Paris Fashion Week is in two months. Paris, France, mind you. I was going to ask you to marry me up in the Eiffel Tower, at night, drinking champagne. And once we were in France, I thought we could do some sightseeing.”

Sky’s eyes were getting teary. “Are you serious?”

He nodded. “I found a certain cute hotel that—as I know from a very good source—you intended to visit. Megan will look after the shop. Everything’s covered. I had a kickass proposal all prepared.”

“I prefer this one. This one is totally us.”

“I take it you like the idea of the trip, though?”

“Like it? I frigging love it.” Then she stopped abruptly. “Logan, this must have cost a fortune. Can we afford it?”

Man, he loved the “we.” Fucking loved it.

“I don’t need to go. We can do something cheaper,” she continued.

He placed his finger on her lips, silencing her. “My treat.”

“I love you, Alchemist.”

“I love you, Butterfly.”

A loud bark came from outside. Arnie.

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan said. “We love you too.”