A Christmas Proposition

“Hello.” A saleslady scanned her new customers, ring-laden fingers clasped at her front. “What can I help you find today?”

“Wedding bands. And an engagement ring.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Stef peeked over her shoulder at Emmett, who was standing by the door looking unhappy.

She jerked her head, widening her eyes to communicate her meaning: get your ass in here.

He strode in, a reluctant lurch to his walk, as the saleslady led them to a glass case filled with sparkling diamond bands. She pulled out a tray of platinum settings at Stefanie’s request. Stef leaned over them, fingering each one.

“They’re beautiful.”

She reached for a princess cut but before she had it lifted from its velvet bed, Emmett pushed the ring back down and plucked a band featuring a trio of marquise-cut diamonds instead. Rows of smaller diamonds winked from their homes on each side of the band.

“Great choice,” the saleslady praised. “That’s an old set. It was traded in yesterday by a woman whose husband passed away ten years ago. They were married forty-eight years and she had no children to leave it to. She said their marriage was a happy one, but she was remarrying and felt wrong keeping it. She thought bringing it here would allow another couple to give it new life for another four decades or more.” She eyed Emmett and then Stefanie. “You two look young enough to make it to your forty-eighth wedding anniversary.”

It was both a sad and sweet sentiment since Stef knew that her marriage to Emmett wouldn’t last until summer.

“Go ahead and slip it onto her finger,” the saleslady told Emmett with a wink. “Practice for the big day.”

He lifted Stef’s left hand, the ring gripped between his blunt fingers.

“Maybe this ring is the wrong choice for us.” She started to tug her hand away, but her betrothed didn’t heed her warning, instead slipping the ring past her third finger’s knuckles, where it sat as snugly as if it’d been sized for her hand.

“It’s perfect.” His gruff voice held a note of surprise.

“It’s beautiful.” The saleslady took Stefanie’s hand and turned the diamond this way and that. “I tightened those prongs myself.”

It was beautiful. And Emmett was right. It was also perfect. The woman handed over the matching band, and he pulled it onto his finger—again, a perfect fit.

“It was meant to be.” The saleslady let out a gasp of delight. “We have financing and we also accept credit cards.”

“Cash.” Emmett wiggled the ring from his finger and placed it onto the counter as Stef was reaching into her purse for her wallet.

“Splendid. Let me grab a few boxes.” The saleslady dashed off to the back, rings in hand and a spring in her step thanks to the hefty price tag.

“I’ll pay for it,” Stef said.

“No. You won’t.”

“Em—”

“Let me.” He grasped her hand where the engagement ring sat, his palm big and warm. An answering warmth curled around her heart and sent a flush up her neck.

Speechless, she let Emmett take care of the purchase.

Six (#u7f37cb16-ca47-5398-8f88-56c798742046)

Emmett drew the line at shopping for clothes.

Applying for a marriage license and purchasing the rings they’d exchange during their vows had been surreal enough. If she added a wedding dress to the mix, he’d have to call a shrink.

Agreeing to her harebrained plan would work twofold. It would defuse the threat to Chase’s campaign and keep Stefanie out of one of her boneheaded exes’ beds.

Emmett couldn’t stomach the idea of her stooping to offer herself to another man who likely had his sights set on the Ferguson fortune. Not when Emmett himself was perfectly able to fill the role of temporary husband—and would sooner die than be compensated for the task.

He’d slid that band onto Stefanie’s finger in the jewelry store, the tale of the ring’s past eating into his soul. What he hadn’t been able to deny was his desire to protect her at all costs. The rest of the Fergusons weren’t going to approve, but Emmett didn’t care. Stefanie needed him, and in the same way he’d been protecting the Ferguson family since Chase hired Emmett onto the security team, he’d protect Stef now. She didn’t need him to leap in front of a bullet. She needed him to commit to a vow that was temporary for both of them.

He could hardly believe he’d let her talk him into it.

“There it is.” She pointed out the window at a tall Victorian home. The painted wood siding was slate with brick red shutters. The matching sign was dusted with a thin layer of snow and the wood-carved lettering read Lawson Bed and Breakfast. “It’s as pretty as the online photos.”

It was a regal house in an older neighborhood of Harlington, probably from before the oil wells dried up, back when the residents believed it to be a forever home. It was impressive that it’d been kept up. He pulled down the driveway and into a parking area with four spots. Three of which were taken.

“Margaret Lawson runs the B and B,” Stef said as they walked to the front door. She rang the buzzer. “Her son will be officiating our wedding. We’ll have to share a room, I’m afraid. Otherwise, it’d look weird.”

“Gee, I’d hate to look weird.” He caught sight of the engagement ring when she tugged off one glove, then the next. It was odd seeing it there—the ring he’d put there. It filled him with a propriety he had no right to feel. As if she were his to care for and watch over.

A cheery redhead answered the door. “You must be Stefanie. And this is your...”

“Emmett Keaton.” He thrust a hand forward in introduction.

“Nice to meet you. Your room is ready whenever you are.”

“Is there a couch or extra bed in our room?” he blurted. When Margaret’s smile vanished, he covered with “I toss and turn. Wouldn’t want my future missus to lose any beauty sleep.”

The older woman glanced from Emmett to Stefanie, who was regarding him like she wanted to strangle him.

“There’s a love seat,” Margaret answered. “A rather small one.”

“We’ll make do. Thank you, Margaret,” Stef said. “Honey, won’t you grab the luggage?”

He could take a hint. He excused himself to unload the SUV as Stefanie followed their hostess into the house.

Granted, this was her idea, but could Emmett at least appear to like her? First, he argued that she was insane for suggesting a marriage of convenience, then he asked the owner of the B and B for separate sleeping accommodations. At least he’d been game for the ring buying or else she would have developed a complex.

He stomped into the room in heavy boots and unloaded their luggage—several bags for her and one duffel bag for him.

“Do you have a suit and tie in there?” she asked.

“I have what you see me wearing in there.” He unshouldered his coat to reveal his white-shirt-black-pants combo. His broad frame filled the room—which was small by anyone’s definition of the word. Having him in it shrank it to cracker-box size.

She tapped a key on her laptop, having extracted the computer from her bag first. “I’ll look into tux rental.”

“What’s it matter?”

From her cross-legged seat on the center of the bed, she slapped the laptop closed. In a voice low but firm, she told him exactly why it mattered.