As they ate breakfast, Jane told him she was scheduled for an outdoor massage and facial and after that she had plans to make a poodle skirt. It was all Booth could do not to clap his hands with glee. She was going to be busy for hours, which was exactly what he needed.

Because he’d come to the conclusion that if he wanted to make love to her every night and see her bright and beautiful wake-up smile every morning, he had to do something to make it happen. He just had to fucking marry her. If Jane was his wife, it would literally be his job in life to make her happy which was more than fine. He would eagerly swear before God to dedicate his life toward making her happy.

But would she have him?

That was the question. As she poured herself another cup of coffee, his mind raced. They’d been a quasi-couple for four days. Before that, their Starbucks date was only about a month ago. Still, things had been going well so far. There were two days and three more nights here at camp. Was that long enough for him to persuade her he was the love of her life and that they should get married as quickly as possible?

Probably not. But he didn’t have much choice. After camp was over, he was screwed. The rest of his summer was packed. He had that vacation with Val, Brent and the kidlet at the cottage in Kelowna, then two weeks of private training in upstate New York after which he only had two days before Barracuda training camp began. It was as if day seven of camp was the game seven of his life. Everything was on the line and it was win or go home. The only difference was, he’d have to do this solo.

Or would he?

It slowly dawned on him with not a little excitement that he did have a team. It was a very small and very gay team, but that might be just what he needed to pull this crazy stunt off.

It was a wonder Jane didn’t hear the squeals of excitement when he told the Gaydies he wanted to propose. He’d managed to track them down at the archery range while Jane was getting a massage.

“So, guys, I need help planning this. I have exactly zero ideas.”

“Everett proposed with a fortune cookie,” Frasier said. “We’d had a wonderful dinner at our favorite Chinese restaurant and he’d arranged to have the regular fortune replaced with one that said, ‘You will soon be asked a very important question by a person who loves you more than life.’ And then he took my hand and got down on one knee and…shit. I’m getting weepy just thinking about it.”

Everett laughed and gave his husband a kiss. “Never fails.”

“Well I can’t help it if you’re as romantic as fuck,” Frasier said.

“Great,” Harley said. “The nearest Chinese restaurant is probably in Massachusetts.”

“Maybe I could write the fortune, put it in a marshmallow and have her toast it,” Booth said.

The Gaydies looked the opposite of enthusiastic.

Booth rolled his eyes. “Okay, see? This is why I came to you guys.”

They fell silent for a few moments as everyone tried to come up with more ideas.

“What about something Grease themed?” Harley suggested. “Maybe reenact the scene where Danny gives Sandy his class ring…?”

Everett shook his head. “We don’t have a convertible.”

“Or a drive-in theater,” Frasier added.

“I don’t even have a ring, class or otherwise,” said Booth.

“Point of order, a ring isn’t absolutely necessary for a proposal,” Harley said. “I read that in a magazine.”

Suddenly, Octavio starting waving his hands. “Wait a second. I think I’ve got it. Did you see that beautiful gazebo they have? What if…oh, my gosh, this is genius. What if you left her a note to meet you at, say, the tennis court, and then at the tennis court there was a note to go to the next place…”

“Oooh, a treasure hunt,” Harley said, nodding.

Octavio went on. “And so on and so forth. She goes on a merry chase while we scramble like crazy to convert the gazebo into Romance Central.”

“I’m not picturing it,” Booth said, but the Gaydies had already glommed onto this idea.

“You don’t have to picture it,” Everett said. “You just have to trust us. I don’t work in theatre anymore, but I’ve had plenty of experience with creating sets. We can go into town and see what we can find. I’m thinking if you do it so that she gets to the gazebo just as the sun is setting, strings of fairy lights might do most of the work.”

“We could ask the staff if we could play ‘Hopelessly Devoted to You’ over the speaker system for background music,” Frasier said.

“I don’t have a ring,” Booth reminded them again.

“You could buy one in town,” Frasier said.

“You’re dreaming if you think that town has a jewelry store,” Octavio said. “It doesn’t even have a Starbucks.”

“Maybe there’s a pawn shop,” Harley suggested.

Booth scoffed. “I am not buying Jane’s engagement ring at a pawn shop.”

“An antique store then,” Octavio said.

“We’ll figure something out,” Everett said. “Or maybe you do it with no ring, like Harley said.”

When they went to the front office to ask permission to take over the gazebo on Saturday night, a man was there talking to the woman in charge. Heather, according to the placard on the open door, seemed excited.

“Yes,” Heather said. “There’s a stage set up in the boathouse. They could do it there. We even have a little curtained off area where you could wait until the appropriate moment.”

With his shirt all tucked in and his shorts nicely pressed, the man looked like he just came off the golf course of an exclusive country club.

“Perfect,” the Golf Guy said. “Because this is a huge surprise.”

“I can’t tell you how romantic this is. Um, you don’t mind if we film it, do you? It would be great for our website and social media accounts.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Golf Guy said magnanimously. “Just give me a copy of the video and we’ll call it even. That way my future bride and I will have a way to remember the day we got engaged.”

“You’re getting engaged?” Booth blurted. “Me too.”

The man turned. “No kidding?”

“Yeah. I’m going to pop the question on Saturday night.”

With her hands clasped over her heart, Heather looked like she was going to explode with excitement. “Two proposals in one week? Oh my gosh. I can’t wait to tell my husband.”

“I’m doing it later tonight,” Golf Guy said, then proceeded to describe something much grander in scope and as Grease-themed as you could get. “And we’re going to Paris for our honeymoon.”

“Well, good luck to you,” Booth said, extending his hand.

“And to you,” Golf Guy said, taking it.

“Now, tell me what you’ve got planned,” Heather said after the man left.

“It’s nothing like that guy,” Booth said, feeling a little inadequate.

When he explained to Heather what they wanted to do, she reassured him. “Your future bride is going to love it. And that all sounds fine, logistically and yes, we have fairy lights. Tons of them. I’ll let the staff know what’s going on and please ask if you need anything all. I’m happy to help.”