Booth and the Gaydies hopped into Everett’s SUV and headed to Briarsted. Upon a drive down the main thoroughfare, they found out there was indeed an antique store and also a few small gift shops that might have rings, so they split up. Everett and Frasier went in search of decorations for the gazebo and Booth, Tavi, and Harley headed for the antique store. Of all the things Booth never thought he’d be doing, engagement ring shopping with two gay men was probably number one on the list.

An hour and half later, they reconvened. Booth had a silver band with an arrow on it that Octavio said would be perfect because when they got around to making the clues for the treasure hunt, they would draw the arrow on every clue, and use it as a sign if some of the clues brought her off the beaten path or got too difficult. She could wear that until they could choose something more appropriate, and afterward it would be a nice keepsake.

Team Gazebo, it turned out, had filled the entire back of the SUV. There was a small wrought iron patio table and chairs, an antique wine bucket on a stand, a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes, yards of white cotton fabric, and ten fluffy potted plants.

“What’s the fabric for?” Booth asked, feeling dumb for asking.

“Are you going to make an aisle for her to walk down?” Octavio asked.

Frasier and Everett glanced at each other, brows raised. “That’s an interesting idea,” Frasier said, “but no.”

“We’re going to use pearlescent paint to stamp the fabric with hearts for a subtle sparkle effect and drape it around the roof edge of the gazebo. If we have enough, we’ll wrap it around the railings too.”

“That sounds magical,” Tavi said.

“The grand total was $672.86,” Everett said, handing Booth back his credit card. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Not a problem,” Booth said. “I told you spare no expense.”

On the way back, they brainstormed ideas for the treasure hunt. Octavio thought each clue should be a poem. Booth nixed that.

“Even if they’re the ‘roses are red’ type of poem? Women love it when men fail at stuff in an attempt to be romantic. They think it’s adorable.”

“No. No poetry,” Booth said. “Let’s just keep it simple. Straight up clues, like ‘Where did I first see you here at camp?’ Which was at the dock for sunrise yoga. Or here’s one I was thinking of before. ‘Ain’t no mountain high enough to keep me away from you,’ and the answer would be the rock climbing wall.”

“Oh, that’s one of my favorite songs,” Harley exclaimed. “They could all be quotes from songs!”

“That might not be a bad idea,” Booth agreed.

“And bonus points if they’re quotes from Grease songs.”

They spent the rest of the car trip back to camp singing the songs from Grease and writing down lines that lent themselves to locations on the outer reaches of the camp. Actually, the Gaydies did the singing and Booth did the writing. When they got back to camp, Harley, Frasier and Everett unloaded the truck and put everything in a storage shed that Heather had unlocked for them. Octavio and Booth kept a lookout for Jane.

Once everything was secure, Booth went to find Jane. He didn’t want her to becoming suspicious at his long absence. Also, he missed her. He couldn’t wait to spring the surprise on her. He felt certain that by the time Saturday rolled around she’d be all softened up and ready to say yes. He planned to treat her like a queen, now and well, actually forever. She was his past, his present and his future. He also couldn’t wait to introduce her to his teammates. Fuck. She was going to blow their minds. Once they got to know her, they were all going to wonder how the fuck he’d gotten such a perfect woman to agree to marry him. It was going to be epic.

“Hey, Booth,” called Heather, waving at him. “If you wanted to catch that other proposal, it’s going on right now in the boathouse, but you’d better hurry. It’s probably almost over.”

He nodded at her. “Thanks.”

Glancing in that direction, he didn’t see anyone leaving, so it must still be going on. Then he figured the best place to look for Jane might just be a Grease-themed proposal.

The boathouse was packed—standing room only—but he shouldered his way into the room through the door nearest to the stage. It was fucking hot, too. Too many people and no air circulation. He hadn’t heard any music playing as he approached so the performance part must be over. He glanced quickly at the people nearby and didn’t see Jane. He scanned the people in the audience. No Jane. He turned to leave, intending to go to her cabin. Maybe she was resting. That would be ideal. Jane on or in a bed—his idea of heaven.

That’s when he heard her voice over the speakers.

“Is that so?”

He spun around. There on the stage he saw Jane wearing a butt ugly skirt and a white blouse. A man dressed like Danny Zuko was standing with her.

Booth frowned, confused. Heather had said the proposal was going on, the proposal that Golf Guy had had made arrangements for. So why the hell was Jane up there?

The Danny impersonator said with a grin, “There’s a man backstage.”

People in the audience tittered and gasped.

What the fuck was going on?

“And this man is very much in love with you.”

Finally it started to dawn on him.

Jane pressed her lips together, looking nervous but…happy. She looked happy and expectant and Booth’s gut was a sickening clash of disbelief and rising anger.

Then Golf Guy, all smiles, came out from the wings of the stage to applause and hoots of approval. Booth wanted to smack every single one of them. No, he wanted to shout. No, Jane’s mine. Jane is MINE.

The clapping was still going on and Danny was trying to quiet them down, but Booth had had enough.

“This is bullshit,” he shouted.

As he strode forward, all heads turned to him. The phones followed a split second later. Now, Golf Guy was the one looking confused, which was fine with Booth. Jane just gaped as she looked first at Booth then at Golf Guy.

“What’s…what’s going on?” she asked.

“That’s what I want to know,” Golf Guy said.

“What are you doing here, Dylan?” she asked.

“That’s what I want to know,” Booth said to Jane. The actor was backing away slowly, but Booth didn’t care. He needed to get to the bottom of this clusterfuck. But not here. It seemed like every single person in the room had a phone trained on the stage and he had no desire to have this particular drama displayed on the Internet. There was already enough fodder to fire up the hockey community for a solid week.

With only a tenuous grip on his control he said, “We need to talk someplace more private.”

Jane looked pale. “I guess we could go to my cabin,” she said in a small voice.

“You mean our cabin,” Dylan said.

Booth wanted to punch him in the face.