I was already awake when Scarlett’s alarm went off. Today was a big day, not that Scarlett Bodine let anyone forget that it was finally her thirtieth birthday. Four years together, I thought, rolling to my side, and I was finally going to ask her to marry me.

Her brothers had given me their perfunctory approval ages ago. It was totally ceremonial—they’d dunked my ass in the lake again—but I was a part of them now. And it was time to make it official.

Scarlett stirred when I dragged her up against me, kissing her bare shoulder.

The morning light poured through the windows facing the lake. We’d built this home together, Scarlett doing a good portion of the work herself and teaching me a few things along the way. And every damn day, I counted my blessings when I pulled up the long drive. Everything I cared about most in this life was here.

The ring was in the drawer of my nightstand. I’d thought of a million ways to do this over the past four years. As with everything involving Scarlett, I had a Plan A, B, C, and D on top. It was a necessity when your girlfriend was as unpredictable and wild as Scarlett.

My soon-to-be fiancée let out an inelegant snort and sat straight up. “Christ on a cracker! What time is it?”

“It’s early,” I said, propping myself on my elbow and watching her spring naked from the bed. “What’s the hurry, birthday girl?”

She paused mid-hop as she dragged on a pair of cutoffs and grinned at me.

“I’ve got birthday things to attend to. Hair, massage, and facials with the girls,” she said. She hopped in my direction and laid a kiss on me that turned my morning wood into a raging hard-on.

“What about me? Don’t I get to spend your day with you?” I asked.

Her grin was as honeyed as her accent. “Don’t you worry, Dev. You’ll be the highlight of my big day.”

“We have dinner plans,” I reminded her.

“Oh, those mysterious dinner plans you’ve been reminding me about?” She winked. “I’ll make sure I’m showered, sexy, and ready for action.”

I was ready for action now. I climbed out of bed, my cock demanding her full attention.

“Uh-uh. You keep that sex stick away from me. I gotta go.” Scarlett grabbed a bra and tank top and half-ran to the bathroom, slamming the door in my face. “Nice try, honey,” she called through the door.

Plan A—a sweet, romantic, quiet, naked gesture—was officially defunct.

Undeterred, I grabbed a pair of gym shorts and ambled down the hall toward the kitchen. The house was the perfect mingling of McCallister and Bodine.

There were windows everywhere they could be squeezed into the design. The entire back of the house was one panoramic lake view. There was a study off the front door for me, and Scarlett used the formal room on the opposite side as her disaster of an office.

We had five bedrooms perfect for overnight visits with my parents and our future “pack of kids.” The living space and kitchen were one big room, which made entertaining easy. The huge mountain stone fireplace in the living room gave Scarlett the excuse she was looking for to host monthly “indoor bonfires” in the middle of winter.

I opened the fridge and collected the ingredients for my protein shake. My phone buzzed on the counter.

I shook my head. It was going to be a long-ass day if I couldn’t pin down my fireball girlfriend and put a ring on her little finger. All of Bootleg Springs was waiting for the signal and then the town would descend upon our backyard for the biggest, craziest bonfire Scarlett had ever seen.

I heard her jogging down the hallway, bare feet slapping on the hardwood.

“I’m late, honey. Otherwise I’d be demanding my presents,” she said, rising on tip toe to kiss my cheek.

I grabbed a handful of her shirt and pulled her in and up for a birthday-worthy kiss.

Scarlett melted into me, but before I could revive Plan A, she was wriggling out of my grasp. “Nice try, hot stuff! To be continued!”

She disappeared in the direction of the garage and left me with my protein shake and another unsatisfied hard-on.

* * *

I hefted the canoe over my head, droplets of water raining down on me, and headed for the lake. Scarlett and I had been through it all in the last four years. Her brothers’ weddings, endless nights of making love, fiery arguments, soft conversations under the stars, lazy Sundays on the lake, not to mention the investigation that we’d all finally moved on from.

Scarlett Bodine had saved me from a life I’d thought I wanted.

She’d picked me back up at my lowest point, and then two years ago, she’d stood next to me, trembling with pride in her cowboy boots when I was sworn in as Olamette County Judge. She’d campaigned so hard for me I think most folks were afraid not to vote for me. And so Ol’ Judge Carwell was able to retire, and I stepped into my own courtroom.

It wasn’t Washington, D.C.—my courtroom had six deer heads mounted on the wall above the bench—but I was happier than I’d ever been. Happier than I would have been. And my parents were vaguely less disappointed now that they had a judge in the family. They just tended to leave out the “county” part of my title. And they’d warmed up to Scarlett, which I’d had no doubt would happen. The woman could thaw the coldest of hearts with her sweet smiles and honeyed drawl. And if that didn’t work, she bull-headedly wore down every rough edge she encountered until the other party couldn’t remember a time when they didn’t love Scarlett.

I eased the canoe down onto the sandy beach and shoved it into the shallow lake water. Lashing the lead ropes to the dock, I tossed the quilts and the picnic basket into the belly of the canoe.

The beer cooler came next. I patted my front pocket, reassuring myself that the ring was still in its place.

“Mornin’.” Jonah, Scarlett’s half-brother sauntered across the lawn, his hands in the pockets of his athletic shorts. “Thought I’d drop by and see if you needed any help setting up for the bonfire tonight,” he said.

My phone rang, and I picked it up off the dock.

“Hey, Scarlett.”

“I’m grabbing lunch with the girls,” she chirped.

“Oh. Uh.” I eyed the engagement canoe. “Okay. When will you back?”

“I’m not real sure. Just called to tell you I miss you, and I’ll see you tonight for dinner.”

Well, hell. Plan B had just taken a steaming crap. “Try to be back by five,” I said, hoping I sounded casual and not disappointed and panicked.

“I think I can manage that,” she said, cheerfully unaware that she was ruining the biggest day of our life.

“You are coming back, right?” Hell, what if after all these years she’d gotten cold feet? I felt my stomach do a slow roll.

Her laugh was husky. “Why, your honor, you know you’re the one I want to spend my birthday night with. In fact, if I were you, I’d spend the afternoon hydrating and stretching.”

“Promise?” I said softly.

“I promise, Dev. I can’t wait to celebrate with you, and I’ll be thinking about you all afternoon. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I said, mostly appeased.

“Just remember who said it first,” she sang before hanging up.

I swore quietly and stared down at the canoe of romance. “Well, shit.”

“Problem?” Jonah asked.

“Scarlett’s spending the afternoon with her friends.”

Jonah ran a hand through his dark hair. “Yeah, she rounded up the girls for a spa day and lunch and whatever.”

The girls were the women the Bodine men and I had fallen for. I wasn’t the only man to show up in Bootleg only to get blindsided by love. The last few years had been a whirlwind of lust, love, and a shit ton of weddings, some of which I’d presided over. I’d been hoping to add my own to the list. And it was looking like the universe—or worse, Scarlett Bodine herself—was conspiring against me.

“You were going to propose in a canoe?” Jonah asked.

I shrugged. “I thought a picnic lunch and some time at the hot springs would be… you know… romantic and nostalgic.”

Jonah nodded. “Yeah, totally.” His gaze landed on the picnic basket. “Shame for it to go to waste.”

I had half a pound of Scarlett’s favorite chicken salad, a six-pack of cold beer, and three or four hours to kill before my parents showed up to celebrate the engagement that wasn’t.

“You wanna go?” I asked Jonah.

He shrugged. “Got an extra pair of trunks?”

* * *

Scarlett was definitely avoiding me. Jonah and I worked up a sweat paddling over to the secret hot springs where we ate my engagement lunch and talked sports, women, and work. Jonah’s personal training business was the perfect complement to Bootleg’s day spas. Tourists could spend their morning sweating through a lakefront boot camp and then stuff their faces at any of the town’s dining establishments before having the kinks worked out at one of the half-dozen spas in town.

I had a few kinks of my own now. My shoulders were tight with worry that Scarlett was avoiding me or skipping town or getting arrested again. I was beyond ready to make our love “official.” And I thought she’d felt the same way. I couldn’t have misread the last four years. Could I?

The catering crew showed up as we were unloading the canoe. Jonah volunteered to direct them so I could shower. By the time I came out with wet hair and clean clothes—the ring safely tucked in my front pocket again—my parents were pulling up the drive, and the Bodines had descended upon our house.

Gibson and Jameson were stocking the fire pit with wood. Bowie was carrying my mother’s full-sized suitcase. The woman was staying for thirty-six hours and had packed as if she were going to Paris for a week. My father was poking his nose in all the covered dishes the caterers set up in the kitchen.

My gran and her girlfriend Estelle were pouring everyone who walked through the door little cups of strawberry moonshine.

I greeted them all and tried to hide my distraction.

There was still no Scarlett. Her responses to my texts had been vague. At least that’s the way my starting-to-panic mind read them.

“Your home is lovely,” my mother said, admiring the grand fireplace. “Maybe I could bring my DAR group here for a retreat in the fall?” she mused.

She wasn’t actually asking. She was planning.

“Dev, you got a minute to help go over the setup of the tables?” Gibson asked, sticking his head in the backdoor.

“Sure,” I nodded dumbly and followed him outside.

“You look like you’re gonna be sick,” he observed.

“I haven’t proposed yet,” I told him. “How can we have an engagement party with no engagement?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you,” Gibson drawled. Easy for him to say. He had a shiny gold band on his ring finger and a fucking permanent smile on his face these days.

“The girls here, yet?” Jameson asked from the yard.

“Not yet,” Gibson called back. “Be here soon.”

“Wait a second.” I stopped on the deck. “She’s up to something. Isn’t she?” I dared them to lie to my face.

Gibson put his hands on my shoulders and helpfully shoved me in the direction of the stairs. “Scarlett? Up to something?” he asked innocently.

Jameson stuffed his hands in his pockets and whistled tunelessly while avoiding my gaze.

“If you don’t start spilling your guts, I’m canceling poker this week,” I threatened.

“Look. You want to get engaged, don’t you?” Gibson said, pointing me in the direction of the box truck from which a two dozen round tables were being unloaded.

I slapped my thigh. “That little sneak thinks she’s going to propose, doesn’t she?”

Gibson and Jameson shared a long look.

“Damn it. She’s held the fact that she said ‘I love you’ first over my head for four years. Can you imagine what she’ll do if she’s the one who pops the question?”

They nodded stoically, not willing to officially break the Bodine family code of blabbing on each other.

Bowie and Jonah wandered up.

“Why don’t you two take McCallister here for a little walk before he blows his top,” Gibson suggested.

“Did you know about this?” I asked, poking Jonah in the chest.

“Of course I knew. My wife can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

“None of them can,” Jameson grinned.

Four phones dinged, chirped, and tinkled simultaneously. The brothers glanced at their screens, four matching grins splitting their faces. God, they were annoying.

“Girls are here,” Jonah said.

I spun back toward the house. There was no way in hell that I was letting Scarlett Bodine propose to me. I was getting this one first.

“Where y’all goin’?” Bowie called after me.

“To ruin Scarlett’s plan!”

“What about the tables?” Gibson yelled.

“Fuck the tables!”

I stormed into the house under a full head of steam and followed the sounds of giggling and squealing in the direction of the upstairs bathroom.

“Wait until Devlin gets a load of you,” I heard Cassidy sing when I tackled the last of the stairs.

“You look attractive,” Cassidy’s sister agreed. “Not at all like your usual mess.”

“Thanks, y’all,” my future wife drawled.

I gave the door a boot and scared the hell out of the six women crammed inside.

“Devlin! What’s gotten into you?” Scarlett demanded, hands on hips, elbows jabbing the others in the confined space. Her hair, a sexy sable color, hung long and loose down her back, just the way I liked it best. She wore a white lace dress that hit just above her knees and fluffed out at the skirt.

It was the perfect look to propose.

I was irrationally furious, which is the only excuse for what I did next.

I, Devlin McCallister, Olamette County judge, hauled my girlfriend over my shoulder and carried her kicking and screaming out of the bathroom. Her friends stared after us, mouths agape. Cassidy was recording it on her phone, and I didn’t give a damn. We passed my parents and Jonah’s mother on the stairs. Scarlett quit her hollering long enough to give them a little “hey there, fresh towels are in the linen closet,” before I slammed our bedroom door behind us.

I dumped her on the bed so hard she bounced.

“If you mess up my hair, I will never forgive you, Devlin Brooks McCallister,” she howled.

Before she could jump to her feet and kick me in the balls or put me in a headlock, I stretched out on top of her and clamped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes went from furious to ready-to-get-naked in less than two seconds. I was already hard. Something about seeing her in all that white lace made my blood thicken.

“Marry me,” I demanded. My carefully drafted, ruthlessly memorized speech was out the window. Hell, I was on Plan Quadruple Z by this point. And I wasn’t going to spend another second of my life without putting a ring on this woman’s finger. Whether I’d have to wrestle it on remained to be seen. “Marry me, Scarlett. Be my wife.”

She made a muffled sound, and I removed my hand before she could bite me. Scarlett never hesitated to fight dirty. It was one of my favorite things about her.

“About damn time,” she said with a cocky grin.

“About time?” I shouted. “You’ve been avoiding me all fucking day.”

“I had to get ready for tonight,” she said, rolling her hips against me.

I gritted my teeth, trying to focus. She hadn’t said yes yet.

“Say yes, Scarlett.” I nibbled at her lower lip and felt her pulse kick up under my fingers on her throat.

“Yes, of course I’ll marry you,” she sighed, begging me to deepen the kiss.

“And I get the credit for proposing?” I asked, a little worried that she’d said yes so easily. “I asked first.”

She dropped her head to the mattress and laughed. “I think I can give you that one.”

“I can’t believe you thought you were going to propose,” I said gruffly, tracing my fingers over the soft skin of her neck.

“Oh, I never planned to propose,” Scarlett countered.

I lifted up, resting my weight in my elbows. “What?”

“I knew you’d do right by me and propose today,” she said smugly. “I just figured if we were gettin’ engaged and I was turning thirty and all, why not get married tonight?”

My mouth opened, and no words came out. Scarlett giggled beneath me. “Y’all sure are sexy when you’re speechless.”

“I’m going to need you to run that by me again,” I finally managed.

“As soon as you put a ring on me—I’m assumin’ there’s a ring—” she said pointedly. “We’re gonna go say some vows in front of most of Bootleg, eat some barbecue, drink some beer, shove cake in each other’s faces, and then you and I are gonna get real naked and biblical.”

I dropped my forehead to Scarlett’s. “I love you more than anything in this world. Do you know that?”

“I sure do. And the feelin’ is mutual. You’re my one, Dev. I want more of all of this with you. I want babies upstairs and grandkids on the lake. I want you every night for the rest of my life.” She cupped her hand to my cheek, rubbing her palm over my beard. “Now, about that ring…”

* * *

At dusk, Scarlett marched down the grassy backyard aisle lined with Citronella candles with her four brothers as an escort. That didn’t surprise me. What did was the Bodines handing Scarlett over and then lining up next to me, a perfect bookend to the bridesmaids on Scarlett’s side. Family. Blood and otherwise.

As Old Judge Carwell launched into his Southern-accented recitation of the vows, I couldn’t stop rubbing my thumbs over Scarlett’s palms, reassuring myself that this was indeed happening. My mother was politely sniffling into my father’s handkerchief in the front row. Gran and Estelle sat next to them snapping about a thousand pictures with their phones. Jonah’s mom and Cassidy’s parents took up Scarlett’s side. Beyond them was the better part of all of Bootleg. And above us, someone had thought to turn on the strings of lights we used for parties.

I could smell bonfire and brisket. Everyone in the audience had a drink in hand.

And when Scarlett looked up at me, eyes sparkling with a joy that mirrored my own, I knew that I was more than ready for another fifty or sixty years with her. She was my adventure and my safe place. My best friend. And I was going to spend the rest of my life loving the hell out of her.