“How about right there?” He raised a hand and pointed to the small clearing in the tree line. It was beyond the boundary of his yard, not that you could see it with the snow, but I’d spent enough time here that I knew the yard like it was my own. I guess . . . it was my own. “Right there for what?” He shifted us, pushing me so that I leaned against one arm while his hand dove into the pocket of his jeans. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, maybe a key to the house or something, but a diamond ring was not it. “How about we get married right there?”
