Except he hadn’t brought it up again.Not once during all the hours they’d overhauled the engine (although she had learned the difference between a carburetor and a fuel injector and how to adjust the valve clearances).Not when they’d installed the kitchen cupboards and redone the plumbing (although she had learned how to install a new kitchen faucet).And not once when they’d run all-new electrical through the bus and he’d asked her opinion on where to hang the flatscreen television.He’d even taken her suggestion on adding shiplap to the kitchen walls, installing a retro lime-green Frigidaire refrigerator, and adding a bench with a hidden tabletop that converted into a queen bed.
He’d installed the queen bed, painted the walls her suggested hazy mint green, and even added a laundry area—also her idea—behind the wet room while she’d been in New York City meeting her new publisher, so that felt promising.
Still.Not a word.Maybe he’d wanted to surprise her.
“Okay, careful now.”He guided her, his strong hands on her shoulders, into the garage, rich with the scent of sawdust, diesel from a rest test of the engine, and even burnt coffee, a hazard of Jack’s tendency to overfocus on a project.
“I won’t trip.I know this place by heart,” Harper said.The workbench along the long wall with all his woodworking tools, not to mention the bench mechanic’s box on wheels.And on the other side of the bus, almost a living area, with a couple of worn floral-patterned overstuffed chairs he’d gotten from a discard pile at an estate sale.He spent hours in the garage after work at the King’s Inn, reading, planning, sketching.Thinking.
No one would have the faintest idea that Jack possessed a portfolio in the seven digits, a beachside home, and lived off his investments.
Then again, he’d landed a bestseller years ago, back when he’d wanted to be a lawyer, and had cracked the case of a Minnesota girl gone missing.It had ignited the remodel of his first bus and too many years on the road, searching for lost souls.
And running from her.
But he’d returned and was building them a second chance.
She’d probably been too absent recently, finishing her second book and helping Penelope, a.k.a.Penny Pepper, on research for her murder podcast.A cold case, now solved, of a serial killer in Alaska.
“Yes, but tonight is different.”He moved her over to the bus—she knew that much—but then brought her all the way to the back.Strange backdrop for a proposal, but...
But she’d marry Jack regardless of where he proposed.Tropical beach, lakeside picnic, or in the metal garage, in front of an old city bus.
“Stay.”He moved away from her, and she heard wood creaking.
“Okay.Take off your blindfold.”
Admittedly, she’d expected him on one knee, in front of her, a ring box open, so when she took off the handkerchief and spotted him standing in front of a folded ladder that led to the top of the bus...
Okay, her shocked expression felt justified.
Jack grinned at her.“I made a rooftop verandah.”
Oh.But she conjured up a smile.“Nice.”
“Yeah.So, the stairs are strapped to the back, and they simply fold down, and then you access the verandah from the rear.C’mon.”He held out his hand.
Okay, so maybe this was the moment.He certainly grinned at her, his beautiful blue eyes shining, as if he had a secret.And he did seem a little gussied up tonight—a clean flannel shirt, his hair just a little long and curly, wet from being freshly washed.And oh, he smelled good, a little bit of cologne lifting from his skin.
Truth—she’d do just about anything for this man.
So she took his hand and climbed the stairs—probably silly of her to have put on a dress, but...engagement, right?
He stood back as if to protect her modesty, and she climbed up and found a small deck platform secured to the top, and on it, a thick foam cushion, a bucket of ice, and a bottle of champagne.
Bam.See?
And sure, no stars sparkled overhead, just the girders of the garage, but maybe he feared it would rain?
Whatever.
He climbed up and sat next to her on the cushion.“What do you think?”
“It’s...fun.”
“Yeah, it is.Imagine lying up here at night, watching the stars.”He reached for the champagne, the top already popped.“It’s nonalcoholic.I know you don’t love the real stuff.”
Sweet.She lifted the two plastic stem glasses, and he poured out the bubbly.Felt like maybe they should wait until after the proposal, but...
