The Bachelor's Perfect Proposal (Bliss Series Book 2)

by Michelle Jo Quinn

  I was left standing by the car with an overnight bag, wondering if Veronica had been right. A guy who looked about Maggie’s age came and introduced himself. “June, Maggie’s boyfriend. I hope you realize you’re in for one hell of a weekend.” He snickered. “Anything I can help you with?”

  “There are Rice Krispie treats in the car, and a case of wine in the trunk.”

  “Nice! I’ll grab the wine. Sweet ride,” June said, whistling at my black Mercedes-Benz CL65.

  “Yeah, thanks. Veronica wouldn’t let me bring the convertible. She thought it was too flashy.” It wasn’t a complaint. The fact that Veronica was uncomfortable about my wealth just proved that she was indeed different from all the other women I’d dated.

  She hadn’t asked about my money at all, but sooner or later, it was a conversation we’d be having.

  When I stepped inside the house, I felt surprisingly at peace. The living room had a floral couch, matching armchair, and a distressed coffee table. There were family photos and vintage pieces on a sideboard and lace curtains on the windows. Clearly Veronica had had a hand in decorating. There were stark differences between the home I’d grown up in and theirs.

  However, the smell emanating from somewhere inside was slightly off, fighting against the sweet aroma of lit vanilla candles. I coughed as I got a good dose of the scent. Veronica shrieked. June and I looked at each other and followed the sound to the source.

  Inside the bright kitchen, gray smoke wafted out of the open oven door, and the smell was more putrid than it was from the living room. I dropped the bag on the floor, the tray of treats Veronica had made on the counter, and covered my mouth.

  “I told you not to let her cook, Maggie.”

  Mrs. Stewart sat on a nearby chair, fanning herself with the hem of her long skirt, and exposing things I didn’t need to see. I averted my eyes toward Maggie, who appeared ready to vomit as she yanked open a window.

  “I tried, Nica! You know how she gets.” Maggie covered her mouth, eyes tearing up.

  “I’m right here, you know. How was I supposed to know that the plastic has to be removed? It just said put it on a tray, heat up the oven and stick it in,” their mother reasoned.

  When I was younger, I grew up away from my family when my brother and I attended boarding school. I’d never had to experience this kind of tension within a family. These days, there was barely any communication between my mother and me, if at all, and I preferred it that way. I pulled the collar of my cashmere sweater over my mouth to take a deep breath and grabbed a pair of oven mitts to help Veronica deal with the unidentifiable burnt blob.

  Looking behind me, I saw June swipe at the tears flowing from his eyes. “Hey, can you get Maggie and Mrs. Stewart out of here? Open all the windows too.” He nodded and led the two women out of the kitchen.

  “This is why I didn’t want her to cook.” Veronica continued to fan the smoke out of the oven with a floral apron. I didn’t know how she was able to stomach the fumes.

  “Here, let me take care of that.” I reached over and grabbed the ends of the tray. Trying as hard as I could not to take a deep breath, the acrid smell of burnt plastic attacked my senses. If I didn’t get the blob out of here, I would soon lose my breakfast on the tiled kitchen floor. Although the taste of bile in my mouth would be an improvement.

  “Where’s the bin?” Veronica had a blank look on her face. “The garbage, love. Where’s the garbage?”

  “Oh! Through there.” She pointed behind me at a white door.

  I went through it and found what I was looking for. After dumping the blob in it and sealing the plastic by tying the end in a tight knot, I returned to the kitchen, leaving the door wide open. There wasn’t anything we could do with the smell except let it air out.

  With her forehead furrowed, she fumed, massaging her temples. “That was supposed to be dinner. Thank God we got here early. She could have burned the whole house down.”

  I remained silent, keeping a hand over half of my face.

  “Now do you see why I was so nervous?” She propped a hand on her hip.

  I sauntered over to her, ditching the mitts on the counter. Snaking my hand around her waist, I planted a kiss on her firmly pressed lips. “I’m sure we can remedy this. All I need is a grocery store.”

  “Tough luck. Nothing is open today.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Haven’t you been in America long enough to realize that?”

  “Sorry, love, other people do the shopping for me.”

  Veronica pursed her lips. “Well, for us regular people, the stores close during National Holidays.”

  “Well then, I’ll have to check what we have in hand.”

  “Yeah, good luck with that. Let’s hope Maggie remembered to do the shopping yesterday.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith.” I gave her another quick kiss. If I could fix this, it would earn me some major brownie points.

  I grinned when I opened the fridge door. Brownie points galore!

  Keep Calm and Be Thankful

  VERONICA

  At this point, I was ready to get in Levi’s car and drive back to San Francisco. If we were lucky, we could get there before night fell. Levi was adamant that he could save dinner, though. He was a fabulous cook, but I couldn’t see how even he could perform a big enough miracle to pull it off.

  I was also shocked he had packed properly. I’d been worried he might have thrown in just whatever for the weekend. I suspected he did it when I was in the shower (and he didn’t join me). As I looked through the bag, I realized I should have known not to doubt him. Could he be any more perfect?

  I had pajamas, matching undies, dresses, jeans, a sweater and a t-shirt, my face cream, toothbrush, and deodorant. I used whatever soap and shampoo were available, and Levi preferred me au naturel. No makeup needed.

  His clothing was just as sparse. He did sleep in the nude, but he’d brought two pairs of pajama bottoms for the weekend. In the bag were his personal items, clothes for the weekend, his glasses, and an old French book. There was nothing sexier than a man who reads.

  I was getting all our stuff out when Mom walked into my bedroom with Maggie and June in tow. “You can’t sleep in the same room.”

  I sent a “you can’t be serious” look at Mom.

  “Veronica, it’s not setting a good example for your sister.”

  “I’m sure they’re fine.” I shot the couple a glance and found Maggie blushing. I shouldn’t assume things. “And besides, Levi’s working so damn hard downstairs making sure we’ll have dinner after your attempt at cooking a turkey. I am not making him sleep on that lumpy couch.”

  “You can sleep on the couch then,” my mother suggested.

  I was about to say something when Maggie butted in. “Nica can sleep with me in my room. We’ll have a sleepover just like old times, so Levi can have this bed.”

  My mother couldn’t possibly think that was a horrible idea. She smiled brightly and took my and Maggie’s hands and pulled us in a tight hug. “It’s so good to have both of you girls in the house again.”

  After unpacking and ensuring the bed had clean sheets for Levi, I asked Maggie to set up the patio table with me. The smell from my mother’s attempted dinner fought with the better-smelling food Levi was creating in the kitchen. It was going to be a bit chilly outdoors, so I brought blankets for everyone. I would brave the cold before choking on the gross smell that lurked in the whole house while we were eating.

  I poked my head into the kitchen and found him bent over watching the oven door. Mmm-hmmm. It was hard not to stare at his sexy butt.

  “Did you come in here to ogle me?” He stretched up slowly and glanced over his shoulder.

  I sauntered over to him. “I came here to do this.” I gave his butt a squeeze. “And this.” And placed a kiss on his lips. Levi responded by holding me close to him, wrapping his strong arms around me, pressing his hips forward, and taking my breath away.

  There was nothing
sexier than a man who read and cooked and kissed like it was our last day on earth.

  His hands roved over my hips when we heard the kitchen door slam.

  “Oh my gawd!” a squeaky voice interrupted us.

  Delaney was one of my sister’s friends. She was nothing like Maggie. She had her nails constantly painted, packed makeup on her face, showed a little too much skin, and last I’d heard, had dated half the guys in the football team—everything Maggie wasn’t. Delaney eyed Levi up and down like she was ready to lick him clean.

  “What are you doing here, Delaney?” I refused to let go of Levi.

  Delaney slowly trailed her eyes to me, like she’d just found out I existed. “Maggie said your mom cooked, so my mom told be to bring you this. Brussels sprouts. Yech!” She lifted a bowl covered with plastic wrap.

  Levi stretched out a hand and took it from her. “These are perfect.” He lifted the cover and sniffed the bowl. “With bacon. Brussels sprouts are my favorite.”

  “Really?” Delaney’s voice went up a bit higher. “Mine too!” She even batted her lashes.

  “Thanks, Delaney, Maggie and June are out back.” I stared at her until she got the point, and finally, she traipsed out of the kitchen after sending Levi a flirty wink.

  “Neighbor?” Levi asked, turning to do a quick check on whatever was in the oven.

  “No, Maggie’s best friend.”

  “Really?”

  “See, you don’t even know her, and you find that odd. Maggie’s very friendly and she’s popular at school. But there’s something about Delaney that I can’t quite figure out.” I tapped my finger on my lips. Levi pushed it away and kissed me.

  “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. It’s not turkey, but I promise you it’s good.”

  “Sounds great. After that smell, I don’t know if I will ever have turkey ever again.” I gave him another kiss (and squeeze) before heading back to the patio.

  Reconnaissant

  LEVI

  The last dinner I had with my family in France was when I’d turned eight. There had been plenty of food then, but it wasn’t as nearly enjoyable as this—a real family dinner full of warmth, laughter and shared memories.

  I’d tried my best with what I was given: eggs, milk, an uncanny amount of processed cheese, bread and vegetables. The meal wasn’t gourmet, but thankfully, they all seemed to like it. And nobody choked.

  With the blankets and cushions Veronica brought out to the patio, everyone was comfortable. Flowers in old teacups and colored glasses dotted the middle of the table, surrounding a medium-sized pumpkin, and weaved around it were candles in different sizes. Despite the chill, it was a cloudless night and the stars added to the ambiance.

  I’d never celebrated Thanksgiving. Year after year, I’d ignored it like any other holiday meant for spending time with family, and had spent time with whichever woman wanted to be with me instead.

  Veronica and Maggie cleaned up while their mother changed into something less formal. June and I sat in the living room and watched his football games on video. He didn’t talk much, and when he did, it was only about football, but he was pleasant company.

  To my dismay, as we retreated to our bedrooms, I found out I wouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed as Veronica. But we were at her mother’s house, and her mother had strict rules. If I were to prove I belonged with Veronica, I’d have to follow those rules.

  However, while stretching on what used to be Veronica’s bed, I craved her warmth and the steady beating of her heart. And her soft kisses, her touch. The taste of her. The sweet scent I would never tire of.

  Turning on my side, I punched the pillow in frustration and huffed a heavy breath. I had to stop thinking of her and what she could do to me or I’d be faced with more than lack of sleep. Then I heard the creaking of the hardwood floors outside the pink and purple bedroom. I propped myself up, reached over to turn on the lamp, and pulled the sheets to cover my bottom half before the door opened.

  “Hi.” Veronica gingerly snuck into the room and closed the door behind her. She crawled into bed in that sexy way that drove me wild, with her butt in the air and a wicked smile playing at her lips.

  “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t allowed...” She didn’t let me finish. She swooped in and kissed me like it was our last time on earth.

  “I can’t sleep without you,” she said after letting us breathe.

  “Me too.”

  After turning off the lamp, Veronica curled in beside me, reached for my arm, wrapped it around her, and intertwined our fingers. I nuzzled her neck before burrowing my nose in her hair. Our feet tangled under the sheets. I was warmed. Comforted. Loved.

  Her breathing became steady. I inhaled her sweet scent as my eyes started to droop close.

  “Thanks for saving Thanksgiving,” she said in her sleepy, hushed voice.

  “You’re welcome,” I said and smiled against her hair.

  I never understood why Americans felt they had to stuff themselves silly every year like they did on Thanksgiving. But tonight, having eaten dinner with Veronica and her family, I realized that it was about more than the food. It was about togetherness. It was about family and those they loved, a concept that was alien to me.

  Although Veronica thought I had saved Thanksgiving, what she didn’t know was that she had saved me. And I would forever be grateful to her for that.

  Bague de Fiançailles

  LEVI

  A few months later…

  “Will she say yes?”

  Martina regarded me with her scrupulous gray eyes when she asked the question. Her silver hair was effortlessly pulled back into a chignon. Wrinkles lined where they should on a seventy-two-year-old woman’s face. There wasn’t a hint of that ever-present playful smile, not that our conversation was anything to laugh at.

  “You don’t trust that I know the answer?” I said in a steady voice, leaning my tensed back against the chair.

  Martina lifted the small, square box and studied it, as though it hadn’t been in her possession for decades.

  “I’m surprised, that of all people, it was you who’d asked for this. No one else dared.” This was common knowledge in my family: only Martina had worn it for years. My mother wouldn’t have considered wearing it despite what it represented; the ring was too simple for her taste.

  Martina raised a thin eyebrow at me. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  I’d been the first one to turn away from any semblance of commitment in the past. Martina had witnessed it year after year, relationship after relationship. The closest I’d gotten to a real relationship was with my ex, Natalie, but even she knew whatever we had wouldn’t last, and we’d decided we were better as friends than lovers.

  “Will you at least let me meet her?” There was a hint of hope in her voice, though she would never admit to it.

  I scoffed, rubbing the three-day growth on my jaw. “I don’t know if I can trust you with her. What if you turn her against me?”

  “If I could do that, then she isn’t the right woman for you,” she challenged me, with an eyebrow raised and her chin lifted. Her words struck a chord. However, my trepidation wasn’t if Veronica was the right woman for me, but if I was right for her. If I was good enough, worthy enough.

  Taking my eyes away from my grandmother, I watched the men and women working in the vineyards through the terrace doors. The sun peeked behind cumulus clouds, and the heat wasn’t bothersome: a perfect day for a green harvest. Martina predicted that it would be a successful year for the entire region. She was rarely wrong when it came to these matters. Only a handful of people had her skills. She loved to pretend that it was all guesswork, but I had seen her work. It wasn’t an exact science, but with a bit of luck and years of experience, she had created a working formula.

  She’d also been right about a lot of my past romantic interludes. Though I knew she would never interfere with my current relationship, she would scrutinize it to pieces. I couldn�
��t let her do that this time. Not that I was afraid she would find something amiss with Veronica.

  There’s no such thing as a perfect relationship, but what I had with Veronica was damn near perfect. She came into my life like a breath of fresh air, when I was already suffocating. When I finally admitted that there was something missing in my life. I hoped that it could only get better from here. That I could lay my own insecurities to rest.

  “Make sure you get it back if it doesn’t work out. We can’t forget what happened to Alexandre. Imagine if he’d given her this.” Martina replaced the box on the painted table, and slid it my way. I caught it before it dropped to the floor.

  A dry laugh escaped me. “You just had to, didn’t you?” Any mention of my brother was a sore subject. I opened the box, took the ring out and examined it in the light. “After everything that happened, did we expect her family to give back anything Alexandre had given her?” My chest tightened.

  It had been in my family for years, and since there was no sign of Alex ever returning to our lives—not that I wanted him to—it only felt right that I asked for it. No matter how much doubt came from Martina. It would mean a lot to me if…when Veronica decided to wear it, having it represent our commitment to each other. And it could bring us luck, just as it had to my grandparents—the only couple I knew who’d stayed with each other until death.

  She stood and walked over to me. Her left foot dragged slightly on the floor, and it took her longer to get anywhere with the pain she experienced, the pain she would never talk about, pain that I couldn’t easily ignore. She cradled my head between her hands, and made me tilt my face up, much like she had done when I was a little boy. “Remember, Olivier: l’amour fait les plus grandes douceurs et les plus sensibles infortunes de la vie.”