“Maggie,” he said, stepping into the secret room. She looked beautiful, ethereal. And maybe a little crazed. God, he loved that about her. He loved every fucking thing about her. Even the parts that drove him nuts.
“Silas.”
Yeah. He especially loved the way she said his name.
She reached for his hands, and when he held them out, she towed him farther into the room. She’d lit candles.
Candles were a good sign, right? She wouldn’t light candles to break up with him. Unless the overhead light had malfunctioned, and she needed the candles. But still, there were other more convenient ways to break up with people.
“Have a seat,” she said, gesturing toward the armchair.
He sat. “Maggie, I—”
“Me first,” she said. “Please. I have something for you.”
Nude photos? Something to remember her by? Shit. If it was a forwarding address, he was going to go downstairs and get very, very drunk.
She handed him a roll of papers. “These are for you,” she said, pulling the desk chair over and perching in front of him.
He removed the blue rubber band and watched her face while he unrolled them.
She was biting her lip, her hands clenched in her lap. She didn’t look devastated, but he could definitely smell fear.
He turned his attention to the plans in his lap. “Is this your barn?” he asked, studying the blueprint. It looked like she was planning to renovate the entire structure with storage and garages on the lower level, workshop space on the main floor, and office space in the hayloft.
He flipped to the next page.
It was a plan for a greenhouse.
“You’d mentioned before that if Bitterroot could grow some of its own perennials and annuals, it would add up to some serious savings over the years. Plus Kinship doesn’t have its own nursery, so it would mean more jobs.”
He looked up at her. “Hold up. You’re not giving me this place as a parting gift, are you?”
She looked horrified. “No! I’m asking if you’ll move in with me. Officially. Here. In this house. To stay.”
Maggie Nichols looked like she was about to puke.
“Don’t you want to go?” he asked gently.
She shook her head. “I’ve been waiting my entire life to find home. And I found one. I made one. Here. With you.”
Those teary brown eyes murdered his soul. It took everything he had not to grab her and crush her to him.
“Baby, I’d go with you,” he whispered.
“I know. I know you would if I asked you. But the thing is, I don’t want to go. I want to stay here and go kayaking and hiking, and I want to sleep late on Sundays. I want to wrestle for mattress space with a pit bull and two stupid cats.”
He was gutted.
And thrilled.
And crushed.
And so fucking happy.
“Maggie, what about your show? What about everything you’ve built? What about the East Coast offer?”
“What about us? I can still do my show, if that’s what I want. Apparently, I can also write a book. Or renovate a ski resort or…well, anything I want. But what I want most of all is you and this house. I want to fill this house with the family we choose, the family we make. I want to be here next to the fireplace when you string lights on that Christmas tree in the backyard.”
His heart was beating faster, as if he were in the front car of a roller coaster chugging up that first big hill. It wasn’t fear. It was the thrill of a new adventure.
“You matter to me so much that I have to take the leap. I have to step into the unknown and try. I’ll do things wrong. I’ll get into funks. I’ll argue with you and work too hard. But I will also love you as intensely as I do anything.”
He dropped the sheets of paper to the floor and grabbed her. “Are you sure? Be sure, Maggie.” He couldn’t quite grasp that all his dreams were coming true.
She nodded and gave him a sweet, watery smile. “I’m staying. Even if you’re too stubborn to date me. I’ll make it awkward as hell at the general store and Cowboy Jake’s. I’ll probably still be invited to your parents’ house for cookouts and brunch. You can still have the greenhouse, the barn. But I’ll charge you an astronomical amount of rent to remind you every month or so that you could have had me, too.”
“You about done?”
“About. I just need you to turn the last page.”
He bent down and picked up the sheets he’d dropped. Then he grinned. There, taped to the last page, was a crisp five-dollar bill.