“How about I compliment you in bed? Go over every inch of you, inside and out, and make sure you know how beautiful you are?”
“Kell,” she said in a low, smoky voice, “you’re turning me on.”
“I certainly hope so. That’s the point.”
“Not when I’m in public and working!”
“Why not?”
“Who wants to be hot and bothered like that around people who you don’t, you know… with?”
“I’ll be there soon. You like to you know with me.”
“I like to you know you know you know with you.”
“Three times? Let’s break that record.”
“At home! Not at the festival!”
“Rachel?” She was making him horny. Nervous and horny was a terrible combination when you were a man about to propose in front of hundreds of people. No lemur costume was designed to have a joystick standing out in the middle of it.
“Yes?”
“I really do love you, but stop talking about sex so I can walk outside with some dignity and get in the truck to come see you.”
Giggles filled the call.
“I love you, too. Always.”
“Always.”
The call ended. He went to the mirror and pulled the lemur costume head over his hair. Two big eyes with black pupils and orange-ish irises, surrounded by a ring of black, floated on white cloth.
He looked like a penguin with fur that someone picked up and squeezed so hard, its eyes bulged out.
“This is terrible.” Sticking his hands in the suit’s pockets, he stretched the fabric as far away from his body as possible. “I look like a flying squirrel.”
His mom was right. It was a terrible costume.
But it would have to do.
Sweat began under his arms, and a trickle traveled down his front, tickling his navel. It was an unseasonably warm day, and he made a snap decision.
Be like Rachel.
Seven years ago, she’d stripped down to bra and panties under the lemur costume she’d worn to collect signatures at a rally in D.C., and while that had turned out to be her downfall, it had been pretty smart.
He would be sweaty enough from nerves. Why make it worse?
Yanking off the costume, he took his clothing down to boxer briefs and socks, then put the costume back on. The zipper still misbehaved at the end, though he finally got it all the way up.
Shoes were next.
Then he grabbed the acoustic guitar and got the ring from the drawer where he’d hidden it. Oddly enough, the costume had a deep front pocket, making this so much easier.
Taking one more look in the mirror, he winced.
And then he strode with confidence out of the cabin he shared with Rachel, ready to make an honest woman of her.
One Dolly Parton song at a time.
Chapter Two
Rachel
If Kell thought he was fooling her, he was sorely mistaken. Anyone could clearly see what he was up to.
Mr. Kellan Dean Luview was about to propose.
To her.
And it was his cat, Calamine, who had tipped Rachel off.
The enormous orange Maine Coon cat had climbed onto Kell’s nightstand last week, tipping over a glass of water he’d left there. Rachel had grabbed a towel from the bathroom and mopped it up, but some had dribbled into his drawer, which she’d opened.
And there it was.
The little velvet box.
Not one to snoop, she’d felt an overwhelming mix of emotions when coming upon it: joy, exhilaration, guilt, joy, regret, excitement.
Mostly lots of joy.
Because it felt so right.
Sure, they’d talked about it. You didn’t just spring a marriage proposal on a person, especially a person like Rachel. These two years together had taught her many things about Kell; for example, he needed lots of physical activity, and spent as much time as possible in nature. For his part, Kell had learned that she hated–despised, even–surprises.
So one of the many emotions she’d felt upon discovering the ring was…
Irritation.
Which then triggered guilt.
Which then provoked some shame to leak out.
Which finally made her corral all these errant feelings and give them a good talking to.
Because having Kell Luview pop the question was going to be the best moment of her entire life, so there should be nothing–not one little bit!–wrong with that.
His big surprise was going to be wonderful.
Perfect, even.
But Kell was damn lucky she’d found that box. Cally deserved some extra treats. Knowing what he was planning made it easier for Rachel to prepare for it, to analyze all her feelings about it and to make sure she could focus on the moment instead of on her sense of shock.
That little velvet box also explained Kell’s puzzling interest in singing “I Will Always Love You” at the festival. She understood now why he’d decided to enter the contest.
He was going to propose in public.
For the last week, she’d scrambled to get herself in physical shape worthy of a public proposal. Living in a rural town in Maine meant that many of her more stringent beauty care regimens from Los Angeles had fallen by the wayside.
She certainly wasn’t looking like a female Sasquatch–yet–but no one in town did dermablading like her spa in L.A. And her threader there, Saria, was unmatched. Annabeth Khouri was the best hairstylist in Luview, and she was good with waxing, but it wasn’t the same.
Just yesterday, she’d gone out of her way to head over the mountain to Nordicbeth, the big ski resort over an hour away, to get as much done as possible. Kell had been too tired for sex last night, so the full wax she’d had was going to be her surprise.
And right now? She wasn’t at the festival, eating deep-fried brownies. She’d lied.
She was walking down the street after having her hair blown out by Annabeth. Makeup was fresh, nails were perfect, and Rachel was about to be engaged.
Could life be any more perfect?
“Hey! Rachel!” Waving frantically, Skylar Lewiston came waddling over. She cut quite the figure wearing a pair of puffy sequined lips and unicorn rainbow cowboy boots. A barista at Love You Coffee, Rachel’s favorite coffee shop, Skylar had been one of the first people in town to be kind to Rachel, so she had a soft spot for her.
“Skylar! That’s quite a fashion combo!”
“No one could find the red glitter boots that go with the costume.”
“It’s inventive! And cheerful!”
“I look like a preschooler with a dress-up chest.”
“You look fine!” Rachel lied. “What’s up?”
“Can you help tomorrow and take the coffee shop donations to the free fridge for me?”
One of Rachel’s initiatives when she’d moved to Luview had been to advocate for a Freedge, a community refrigerator where people can take what they need and leave what they can. Popular in Los Angeles and other major cities, the free fridge movement hadn’t reached Luview, Maine.
Until now.
One day, while picking up her favorite drink, a “Love Bomb” she’d introduced to the shop manager (double shot of espresso, half two percent milk and half almond milk, with ground vanilla bean), she got talking about free fridges with Skylar. The two had joined forces, raising money for the refrigerator with a cake auction. Kell and Luke had donated time and materials to build the small shelter that housed the refrigerator and shelves for stable foods, but the hard part had been getting a location.