Immediately, I jerked it back. There was something in the pocket. Something crunchy. After realizing it wasn’t anything disgusting, just unexpected, I reached into the pocket again and pulled the item out.
I burst into tears.
It was the mistletoe.
From last December.
The mistletoe Brandon had bought and held up between us at Rockefeller Center.
He’d kissed me.
It had been perfection. He was perfect. We were perfect.
I scrambled to my feet. I looked around for my phone and my keys. I shoved the mistletoe and my keys back in the coat pocket. I grabbed my phone off the floor and the screen lit up. December 15 was right there below the time.
It was the exact date I had met Brandon the year before. The night of the ill-fated party where I had ditched out.
Shoving my phone in the coat pocket, I started ripping out all the remaining boxes and digging through with earnest. I found what I wanted in the third box.
The red dress.
From our first two meetings.
It was wrinkled to hell and back but it didn’t matter. I tore off my clothes and shimmied into the dress. “Oh, God, that’s cold fabric,” I said to the room, shuddering. “And no nipple pasties.” Somehow, I doubted Brandon would object.
Once I was zipped in, I pulled the coat back on. I couldn’t find my heels, but I preferred the sneakers. I was going to be running anyway. It suddenly felt like I needed to get to Brandon right now. Sooner, if possible.
“Helen, wish me luck.” I took one last sip of champagne and saluted the dream catcher.
Picking up the hem of my dress, I slammed my door behind me, and took off down the stairs, taking two at a time. Yanking open the front door of the apartment, I reached for my phone to call a car.
I dropped my phone in my haste, with my cold, trembling fingers. Bending down, I picked it up off the sidewalk. When I stood, I gasped.
Brandon was standing in front of my building.
Chapter Eighteen
Brandon was wearing a suit. But better yet, he was standing in front of a horse and carriage. My heart swelled. “What are you doing here?” I whispered. “This is not the Upper West Side and that’s not a cab.”
He took a few steps forward until he was in front of me, body close to mine. “Hi,” he said, reaching up to cup my cheeks. “Happy anniversary, Dakota Tanner.”
Then he brushed his lips over mine, briefly. He pulled back and gazed down into my eyes. “I’m here to right a wrong. I should have never let you leave without at least telling you how I felt.”
Was this real life? I really, really hoped I wasn’t dreaming. Some sort of cold-and-champagne-mixed-fever dream. But it felt pretty damn real and pretty damn awesome.
“How do you feel?” I asked, spreading my palms on his chest. He felt so familiar, and smelled so good, and God, I had missed him so much.
“I love you. I think I’ve loved you from the moment you slammed into me.”
“Which time?” I asked, breathless. He loved me. Nothing could ever sound more amazing than that.
Brandon laughed. “If not the first time, definitely the second night. By the time I left here,” he gestured to my apartment building, “at five in the morning, I knew I would never be the same. I love you. I know I come with a complicated life and I can’t promise it will be easy, but I’ve let my chance slip through my fingers three times now and that’s three too many. I’m here to offer you a ride.”
“What kind of ride?” I looked at the carriage, but I had a feeling he meant more than just a trot down the block.
“One where every day is an adventure. I want a ride filled with you, laughter and great sex, and where we create a family together, with my girls and any future children you might want. You are my love story, Dakota, and I don’t want to waste any more time. I want to start writing it now. Today. Will you marry me?”
I threw my arms around him and nearly knocked him over with my enthusiasm. “I love you, too. I was just coming to tell you that and yes, hell yes, I will marry you. Nothing would be more awesome than being your wife.”
Brandon lifted me off the ground. “You’ve made me the happiest guy on the planet. Nice dress, by the way.”
Breathless from joy and laughter, I reached into the coat pocket. “I was feeling sentimental. I realized today was the day we met.” I raised the mistletoe over his head. “I found this.”
She’d kept the mistletoe. I was shocked as I set her down on the sidewalk. “You still have it.”
“I do.” She gestured to her dress. “I put on the dress and the coat hoping that in seeing all of this, I could talk you into wanting to date me. I’m glad I didn’t have to arm wrestle you into compliance. Because you would lose.”
That made me laugh. “I would not lose. There is no way. But no, you don’t need to strongarm me into anything. I’m yours, to do with as you what.”
“Oh, I like the sound of that.” She wrapped her arms around my neck.
I kissed her, taking in the taste and feel of her with a whole new appreciation for having lost her. “I missed these lips. I missed you.”
She sighed, but broke away, lowering the mistletoe. “Are the girls upset? They told me they didn’t want you to date.”
“I think that applied to everyone but you. They are one hundred percent on board. Their texts to you today were to confirm that you would be here when I showed up.”
“Devious. All of you. I like it.”
“Poppy was working on a love potion to get us together. That should put your mind at ease. That she wants us together. Not that you’re about to have a stepdaughter who is a mad scientist.”
“She’s got style. You have to admit.”
“She has something.” I brushed her hair back. “Just so you know, I have a housekeeper now who helps with the girls and a driver to take Willow to soccer. You can still travel if you need to for work. We’ll work it out.”
“I don’t think I want to go on tour anymore. I’m not sure what I want to do. I hated school so college is out but I’ll figure it out. Right now I’ll be happy to work part-time when I can, volunteer a ton, and be a wife and stepmom.” She gave me a grin. “Hey, did you know I love parties? Think how many charitable events I can throw.”
I pretended to groan. “Oh, shit, what have I done?” But then I kissed her gently. “I love the idea of you devoting a lot of time to volunteering. You have a beautiful heart, and that all sounds perfect to me. I can even deal with the parties.”
“Are we getting in this carriage?” she asked, gesturing.
The driver was studying his phone, clearly not caring that we had been standing there ten minutes. “Absolutely.” I held my hand out to help her up.
Once she was in, I jumped up in after her. “Go ahead,” I told the driver.
“Where are we going?”
“Not that far.” I had gotten ahead of myself with the proposal.
“This isn’t a surprise wedding, is it?” she asked. “Because that would be amazing.”
I laughed. “It crossed my mind, but I thought you might actually kill me if I did that, so no.”
I’d even nixed the idea of bringing the girls or her friends along to witness the more formal proposal, with a ring.
Instead, I’d found a small outdoor ice-skating rink that I had rented. Having only seen pictures of it online, I was pleasantly surprised to see it was strung with Christmas lights. One end had the igloo I had rented set up off the ice, with a table and chairs, and a heater inside.
“This is so cute,” Dakota said. “Why is no one else here?”
“I rented the whole space. I thought about Rockefeller Center, but there are just so many people.”
“It’s New York. There will always be people.”
“I know. But I want you alone.” I tipped the driver and dismissed him for the night, then jumped out of the carriage. I helped Dakota down.
There was an attendant who gav
e us our skates and a waiter who took our drink order for the igloo.
“You are a very romantic man,” Dakota said, as we sat in the igloo, putting our skates on. “This is all amazing.”
The waiter brought in a tray of sushi.
“Shut up,” Dakota said. “My favorite.”
The waiter gave me a fist bump. “You’re killing it, bro.”
“Thanks, man.” Once he left, I looked at Dakota. “I had an ulterior motive. I wanted to ensure you would say yes.”
I pulled the ring box out of my pocket and went down on one knee. “I got ahead of myself and proposed on the sidewalk, so this is a bonus proposal. Will you marry me and junk up my bedroom with hand lotion and magazines and shoes?”
Dakota laughed. “Yes, Hater, I will. Now put that ring on me.”
I obeyed.
She sighed. “It’s beautiful.”
“Care to skate with me?” I stood up, gingerly stepping on the concrete, blade guards still on.
“Of course.”
Under the twinkling Christmas lights, we skated together, holding hands. The air was cold and crisp and Felicia had been right. Taking a leap of faith was actually pretty damn easy. Because look what it got me.
“What do you think of getting married on Valentine’s Day?” she asked. “It would be our one-year sex-iversary. What could be more romantic than that?”
“Nothing,” I said. “We can serve dirty martinis, champagne, and Chinese food.”
Dakota stopped in front of me and grabbed the lapels of my jacket. “Brandon?”
“Yes?”
“I want a hippopotamus for Christmas.”
Of course she did. I laughed. “You know I hate that song. I told you that the night we met.”
She got serious. Unexpectedly serious for Dakota. Her eyes were luminous, her full lips parted. “I think life is going to be a daring adventure with you.”
There it was. The unintentional guru as Felicia had called it. I held her tighter against me. “It most definitely is.”
* * *
Thanks so much for reading Halftime Husband!
For more sexy rom com fun, DATING THE PLAYER is coming soon, featuring star quarterback Dak North and innocent Eloise. This is book one in a new spin-off series, The Legends!
Dak
I’ve got a big pro football contract, a big appetite for women, and a big mouth. It gets me into trouble more often than not… but this time it lands me with a nerdy little PR gatekeeper who is supposed to control me. But good luck with that.
Eloise and her kitten sweaters and adorable glasses have me thinking about her in a whole different way…
Eloise
I’m not your typical nerd girl. Instead of video games, I love football. I’ve landed my dream job managing social media for my favorite team, but with Dakota North as quarterback it’s a 24/7 job. When I’m told I have to spend a week making sure Dak doesn’t tweet, he seems determined to use that time to flirt with me.
I have to ask myself, what is more important- losing my virginity to a bad boy quarterback or keeping my perfect job?
About the Author
USA Today and New York Times Bestselling author Erin McCarthy sold her first book in 2002 and has since written over eighty novels and novellas in the romance and mystery genres. Erin has a special weakness for tattoos, high-heeled boots, and martinis. She lives with her renovation-addicted husband and their blended family of kids and rescue dogs.
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Also by Erin McCarthy
Weekend Wife
Five First Dates
Forty Day Fiancé
Who’s the Boss?
Holiday Husband
Dating the Player
Halftime Husband Page 20
