All I See Is You

39. Closest to Heaven

Chapter thirty-nine

Closest to Heaven

Hux

" I love you, Huxson Lane.”

My chest swelled at the admission, knocking the air from my lungs so thoroughly, it took me a minute to catch my breath. How the hell had I lucked out with her? I might have been dealt my fair share of shitty hands in the past, but meeting Quinn, loving her…and having her love me back was like having a royal flush.

And her admission. Well, damn. If I could drive, I’d already be finding a pastor, preacher, or wedding chapel to marry her right now before she changed her mind.

I slid a hand up along the curve of her neck and into her hair, knotting my fingers in her silky tresses. “Well, hold on now. Maybe I was a bit too hasty about changin’ the wedding into a charity event. I’ll marry you next weekend, darlin’. You just say the word.”

Quinn’s laughter was the most beautiful melody. A song made specifically for me. One I could—and planned—to listen to for the rest of my life. “You know, I would’ve totally entertained that notion had I planned it for anyone esle beside fucking Georgette.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the venom in her voice. Angry Quinn reminded me of a kitten—but I’d learned she had claws and could use them when she needed. Thankfully, Georgette—the bitch—was out of the picture. But then the weight of Quinn’s gaze struck me. “You’d really get married next weekend?” I asked.

“Possibly. But the event I planned for her was too obnoxious. Too grandiose. I don’t want a big wedding.”

“But you’re an event planner. Don’t you—”

She huffed. “That’s exactly why I don’t. I see all the drama and stress included in planning a wedding of that size.” The familiar pressure of her hands on my chest seared straight through the fabric and down to my very soul. “At the end of the day, when we get married, I just want it to be you, me, a small group of our close friends and family in a pretty open field—actually…” she paused. I could feel her body turning this way and that, like she was looking for something. When she spoke, her voice rang with a note of excitement. “I want to get married right in this field.”

I chuckled, a rush going through me at her eagerness. Because her words conjured images in my head that made my heart pound in my chest like a stampede of wild mustangs.

I knew most would think us silly and stupid. They’d call it puppy love. They’d call it infatuation or an obsession or some other bullshit like that.

But I didn’t care.

They didn’t feel the rush I felt when she spoke, the peace that overcame me when I smelled her lemongrass and vanilla scent. They’d never know how her touch stoked the flames of my desire, or how her presence was a balm to my broken and battered soul.

I’d told her before, if she was crazy, I was crazy. We could be crazy in love together. And to hell with the rest.

I tugged her toward me so that our lips brushed as I spoke. “Let me get you a ring first, darlin’. I promise I won’t make you wait long.”

I reveled in the feel of her hands sliding through my hair as she pulled herself closer to me, as if she needed the contact as much as I did. “I’m gonna hold you to that promise, cowboy,” she murmured softly before dragging her mouth to mine.