Jax was having trouble focusing, something she was berating herself for, but a sleepless night did that. Jack’s fault.
He had stayed the night. On the sofa.
She glanced over at Frances, who was standing with the Agatha Girls in the small car park at the rear of the station. It gave her an unexpected opportunity to smile. The ladies were thrilled to have met her at last, and Frances had been polite to them. They were explaining how they’d caught the bull and, by the look of things, Frances was showing genuine interest, and maybe some shock. Things like this didn’t happen in Geelong. Neither did they usually happen in Mt Maria.
‘Back up another couple of inches, Jax,’ Solomon called.
She put the horse truck into reverse and made what must be the seventeenth or eighteenth minuscule move backwards.
‘That’s it!’
She shifted the stick into neutral and got out of the cab.
This morning, everyone had woken early, and before Jax went to feed the dogs she and Jack told Frances there might be a problem with someone trespassing on their land and because of this, the police were going to do their job and keep an eye on the house and on Jax and Frances.
They hadn’t wanted to scare her, but they had wanted her to understand that there was a possible scenario of danger—a word neither used.
Then Jack had suggested he cook breakfast while Jax fed the dogs. She’d had to put a lid on that one straight away. He hadn’t meant anything more than a genuinely friendly gesture, but it was a step towards being a happy family unit and she couldn’t let it happen.
She hadn’t given Jack the chance to talk further about his astonishing proposal last night either and thankfully he hadn’t pushed.
It wouldn’t work. It couldn’t work. He couldn’t stay here as a police officer and she couldn’t leave, not now she was getting Frances settled. Her whole life was here: her home, her business, her friends, her sister—her daughter. Jack’s world was a trip to the moon away. He loved his job as much as Jax loved her life in Mt Maria. Neither could leave what they’d created for themselves.
But her sleepless night hadn’t only been filled with memories of him saying he couldn’t lose her, and his suggestion that she marry him. Her mind had run away with prospects of how that might happen. But it was impossible and Frances was her priority. Yet still, just like she’d known she would have slept with him that night they had dinner, she knew now that if it were possible, she might accept his proposal.
Ridiculous! They hardly knew each other, and they didn’t live in the same state, let alone the same town.
‘What’s next?’ Jack asked Solomon as Jax came up to the barred exercise pen.
‘He’s okay,’ Solomon said, nodding at the bull. ‘He’s not too worried.’
‘Good.’
Jack was off duty again, as he had been last night, and wearing jeans and a light blue long-sleeved shirt. Rachel was right—he would look good in a suit. He’d look right in a shirt and tie. He’d look good in anything. Or nothing.
She took her eyes off him. ‘I’d best get Frances to Rosie at the café.’
‘Why?’ Jack asked.
‘I’ve got to go with Solomon and Tonto. I need to know she’s somewhere safe while I’m busy and can’t keep my eye on her.’
‘Leave it to me,’ Jack said. ‘I’ll bring her to your place, and we’ll watch you and Solomon do your thing with Tonto.’
Jax hesitated.
‘Good idea,’ Solomon said, sealing the deal Jax didn’t want.
Either Jack or Solomon would be doing a night-time vigil outside the farmhouse from now on. Not that they’d told Frances this. As OIC, Luke usually worked a nine-to-five shift, with additional hours either side when needed. But now Jack was going to be on call twenty-four hours a day, every day, whether in uniform or not.
She was sure he was here undercover for some reason. He hadn’t admitted it or even answered her questions about it, but his silence spoke volumes. Drugs probably. There was so much more of it now than five or six years ago.
‘All right,’ she agreed, and looked at Jack. If he was undercover it meant he was still a detective, which meant he really belonged in Sydney where he’d done so much work in the past.
He met her gaze and smiled. She would prefer to have Frances at the house, but was worried that Jack was befriending Frances in order to push for a relationship with her mother. Or marriage. Damn, she had to stop thinking about that.
‘Just keep it under consideration,’ he said.
Jax’s face heated fast. How had he known what was in her head? ‘I’m thinking about how pushy you are,’ she said, and turned to tell Frances what was going to happen.
‘And then,’ Mary was telling Frances, ‘Amelia—Mrs Arnold—pulled a length of chain from her handbag and we managed to secure it around the weights on Hercule’s neck—’
‘Huge balls,’ Mrs Frith said, looking satisfied with her pronouncement.
‘The weights?’ Frances asked.
Jax interrupted quickly, unsure where Mrs Frith’s thoughts were heading. ‘Frances, it’s time to make a move.’
Frances threw a look her way then back to Mary. ‘It must have been a very long chain if you managed to drape it around Hercule’s neck. And who’d put the weights on him?’
‘Whoever tied those weights,’ Mary said, ‘were bad, bad people.’
Jax really had to get Frances away from this conversation. ‘Frances, we have to go.’
‘Can’t I stay here until you get back to town?’
‘Oh, let her,’ Mary said. ‘It’s such a pleasure to meet her.’
‘We can tell her about what we found,’ Mrs Frith said.
‘What did you find?’ Frances asked.
‘Other side of the road, past the museum. All sorts of—’
‘Take no notice, dear,’ Mrs Arnold told Frances.
‘We’re always finding things,’ Mary said, with a bright and possibly too-innocent smile. ‘With Amelia once a Girl Guide leader, we’re often trekking the bush paths, tracking animals and sorting out which poo belongs to what animal.’
‘Thank you, Mary,’ Mrs Arnold said quietly but curtly, effectively closing the conversation about whatever it was they’d found.
Jax looked at each of the women. As far as she knew, the only trekking they’d done was from pot plant to pot plant down High Street, keeping an eye on things for the annual Tidy Town competition.
‘Is it time for my nip, Amelia?’ Mrs Frith asked, rummaging in her small, purple handbag. ‘Have you taken my flask, Mary?’
‘It’s at home. You’ve had your latest nip.’
‘Have not.’ Mrs Frith looked up, mouth open, eyes glazed. For a second Jax thought she was about to cry. ‘I haven’t,’ she said softly. ‘I know I haven’t.’
‘There, there,’ Mrs Arnold said, patting Mrs Frith’s arm. ‘Let us worry about it.’
Mrs Frith closed her handbag, looking so forlorn that Jax wanted to give her a hug. ‘I haven’t had my nip,’ she said sulkily.
Jax stepped forwards. ‘Thanks for taking care of Frances while we were loading Hercule. We’ll see you later.’
She led Frances towards the front of the station where Jack had parked a borrowed vehicle that he was going to be driving when off duty. Seemingly off duty, she reminded herself.
She gave herself another mental reminder: to ask Mary about Mrs Frith’s behaviour.
When they got to High Street, Jack spotted them. ‘Frances,’ Jax said as he got closer, ‘I hope it’s okay. Jack’s going to be driving you home.’
She looked at Jack, who was smiling as he walked towards them, and took a slightly unsteady step back. Should she have used the words ‘Jack’ and ‘home’ in the same sentence?
‘That’s called Tin Pot Hill,’ Jack said to Frances, pointing to the west of Jax’s property.
‘Why?’
‘No idea. Saw it on the map. That’s Sunset Mountain in the distance. Except the sun sets on the west and the mountain has a north-south aspect.’
He’d been chatting easily throughout the drive and had made some progress. The kid was answering his questions at least.
‘Do you actually want to watch the bull being unloaded?’ he asked her.
‘I don’t think it’ll be as interesting as getting it onto the horse truck.’
‘Nor me,’ Jack said, and swung the borrowed four-wheel drive off-road. He’d picked it up from Will this morning, knowing it would be best to have his own vehicle for when he was supposed to be off duty.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Let’s take a run around your mum’s property.’
‘She’s not my mum.’
‘What is she then?’
Frances didn’t answer and Jack didn’t question her further.
Once he was a few metres down the track he pulled up and got his mobile out of his shirt pocket. ‘I’ll just let Jax know we haven’t been kidnapped,’ he said, and smiled when Frances pushed out a small laugh, almost choking as she tried to hide it.
Frances and I will be there soon. We’re doing the tourist thing and having a drive around.
He added an emoji of a bunch of flowers.
She hadn’t wanted him to be alone with Frances. He wasn’t fully sure why not, but it would be something to do with him having proposed marriage.
He did want to get to know Frances, for Jax’s sake. It had been over thirteen years since she’d been with Fellows and it had been a powerful hurt. No matter how much Jaxine Brown controlled her emotions, it would continue to tear her up for the rest of her life. He wanted to be there every time it did. Each time the pain of it reared its head. He wanted to be the one to rein it in or just hold her until the ugliness passed. He didn’t dare think of it as violence or he’d lose his cool and find his way to Queensland—
‘Jack?’ Frances asked, reminding him she was at his side.
‘Okay, out you get,’ he said as he opened his door.
‘What for?’
He cut the engine. ‘I’m beat. You’re driving.’ He got out of the vehicle.
‘What?’
Jack closed the driver’s door and walked around to the passenger side.
‘I’m not supposed to drive,’ Frances said when he opened her door. ‘It’s not legal. I’ll get caught.’
‘I’m the police. I say you can drive.’
‘But I can’t!’
‘We’re on your mother’s property. It’s legal—although if I catch you on the road after I’ve taught you how to drive, you will feel the full force of the law and it’ll scare the pants off you. That, I promise. What’s the matter?’ he asked when her face scrunched up. ‘Don’t you want to learn how to drive?’
‘I’m thirteen.’
‘Kids out here start driving when they’re eleven. Sometimes younger, if they’ve got quad bikes around the farm. Come on, shift over. I’m dead beat after sleeping on that bloody uncomfortable sofa of yours.’
‘It’s not mine.’
He didn’t answer.
Half an hour later, Frances was driving, the vehicle shunting down the track at a lightning speed of twenty kilometres an hour, in second gear.
‘Shift up now,’ he told her. ‘Right foot off the accelerator. Left foot, clutch foot.’
She took a couple of seconds, probably relaying that message in her mind, then made the move. The gear crunched and he winced as the vehicle almost stalled then lurched forwards in a rush.
She gave a nervous laugh as she straightened the vehicle, her face taut with concentration, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel in the ten-to-two position he’d taught her.
‘Check your rear-view mirror.’
She darted a look then back to the windshield. ‘No kidnappers chasing us,’ she said.
‘Good job. I haven’t got my gun.’ He did—he wasn’t going to be without it from now on—but it was strapped to his ankle so nobody would know he had it. He was supposedly off duty and therefore in civvies.
‘Having fun?’ he asked her.
‘No!’ she said forcibly. ‘You’re making me do something I don’t want to do.’
‘You’re loving it.’
He snuck a glance at her profile and found her smiling.
They turned a bend on the track and Jack braced. ‘Right foot off the accelerator and onto the brake, Frances,’ he told her, as gently as he could while keeping his tone firm and commanding.
But she’d already seen what he’d seen and put her left foot onto the brake. The car lurched, Jack shot an arm out to protect Frances’s body from hitting the steering wheel, then the car stalled.
Up ahead, two men were fighting. There were two utes either side of them.
‘Jack …’
Frances’s voice was breathy and scared.
‘Nothing to worry about,’ he told her. ‘I’ve got this.’ He reached over and pulled the key out of the ignition. ‘Stay here. It’s okay. Stay in the car.’
He took his time walking to the two men. There was a lot of rough grabbing, a few punches, most of which missed their mark, a fair amount of swearing, but not much else that had Jack bothered. It looked like your average Friday night punch-up. Although they were big men. Looked to be around twenty-four, maybe a little younger.
When he got to them, they were so breathless, grunting with anger, they didn’t even realise he was there.
He grabbed each man by the back of the shirt and hefted them apart, throwing them in opposite directions. The tallest one, with sandy hair, fell onto his backside. The other one with dark blond hair stumbled, then regained his footing but slipped and skidded. Dust flew into the air as both men kicked at the earth, trying to get balanced and upright again.
Jack spat dust out of his mouth. ‘Cop,’ he said, informing them and warning them at the same time. ‘What’s the trouble?’
‘Damon, you stupid bastard,’ the blond said.
‘Screw you!’
Damon Baxter. No doubt the sandy-haired young man was Robert, his younger brother.
‘That’s enough, gentlemen,’ Jack said and flicked them his ID.
‘Shit,’ Damon said, pulling himself to stand and slapping his thighs. More red dust rose in the air. Their boots and jeans were now covered in it, as were their T-shirts, and arms and faces.
‘That’s far enough,’ Jack told Damon as he took a step towards his brother. ‘You,’ he said to Robert Baxter. ‘Get on your feet.’
‘It’s just a blue,’ Robert said. ‘We’re brothers.’
A typical Baxter blue. Jack had a fleeting thought about thanking Solomon for taking Billy out of all this. ‘I know who you are. What are you doing out here? This is private property.’
‘Everyone takes the track,’ Damon said, shoving a thumb in the air to indicate the old mine track behind him. ‘It’s a shortcut.’
‘From where to where?’ Jack asked. He’d studied the map of the area, although many of the old mine tracks criss-crossed and it was impossible for a newcomer to know all of them or where they led. Taking his bearings, he thought the track they were referring to came from the main road heading north to the Baxter farm, bounced over this southern edge of Jax’s property and headed towards the museum.
‘We were just out driving,’ Robert said, stepping forward.
‘What made you stop here?’
‘Needed to take a piss.’
‘What caused the fight?’
‘Nothing. Brother stuff.’
‘What’s with the goats?’ They had two goats, one on each of the ute trays.
Neither answered. Jack waited, noting that there was no damage to either ute. No smashed or bent bull bars, just dirty old scratches and dents that had been there a long time.
‘Just found ’em,’ Damon said.
‘Reckon they’re old Roper’s,’ Robert added.
Said so smoothly.
‘I’m confiscating them.’
More silence as they digested this.
‘Untie them from the tray of your vehicles, tether them to that tree over there and get on your way.’
‘There’s a reward,’ Robert said. ‘Roper’s got a hundred bucks going on anyone who can give him information about the theft.’
‘Just be grateful I’m not pulling you both in under suspicion of that theft,’ Jack said. ‘Now do as you’re asked.’
No more than five or six minutes later, the Baxter boys had gone, heading back the way they’d come. Jack had called Jimmy and asked for two officers to drive out and take the goats to the station and have Roper collect them. He wanted to meet Mr Roper, and he wanted the vet on video cam to check the goats.
Jack would be studying the map again later too. Something about the museum kept popping into his head, but apart from the Agatha Girls working out there, he couldn’t join two dots.
He turned for his own vehicle, and for Frances.
He slowed his pace when he got closer. She was still in the driver’s seat. She had her hands on her face. He sensed her panic and fear.
‘Frances.’ He tapped gently on the window and she started, looking up at him.
Her eyes were wide and her lips were trembling.
He opened the driver’s door and hunched down. ‘You’re safe,’ he told her. ‘You were always safe.’
‘I just don’t like … don’t like it when men do that.’
He didn’t have to ask when she might have seen two grown men fight, but he did anyway. ‘Oh?’
She scraped her hands over her face, attempting to get herself together. ‘My dad did …’
Jack held his breath while she fought to get control of her feelings. He’d like to take her out of the vehicle and hug her, but he didn’t move.
‘My father had a fight with a man,’ she went on. ‘It was horrible.’ She glanced at him. ‘How many fights have you been in?’
‘Enough to know how to stop them. I know it’s frightening, Frances. I’m sorry you had to see that. Why was your father fighting?’ He got that question in last so she was slightly off guard.
‘A man told him he was a pervert.’ She was blinking hard now and her hands were shaking on her lap. She didn’t look at Jack; she stared straight ahead. ‘He told him to piss off out of the neighbourhood and take his disgraceful family with him.’ She choked on her words. ‘Then my dad just flew at him. They were wrestling and punching and I didn’t know what to do.’
So she’d got in amongst it, hoping to break it up. Jack couldn’t hold back any longer; he reached inside the car and put his hand over both of hers. ‘Next time you see a fight, whether it’s men, or boys, or even girls, you stay clear. Hear me?’ Her hands were overly hot, and sweaty.
‘I got punched by my dad,’ she told him, flicking her eyes his way as though wondering what he might think about that.
‘I bet the pain of that is still in your heart. I bet it hurt more than the pain of the punch, yeah?’
She waited a beat then nodded.
‘Where’s your dad now? Do you want to see him?’ He had to ask, because although he knew counsellors and the like might not want Fellows in touch with his daughter, they couldn’t stop him, and he didn’t know how much Frances had been able to take in and understand when they’d first talked to her about all this. And Jax hadn’t had a lot of time to talk about it with her, not when she was doing her utmost to make her child feel welcome and wanted.
‘He went away,’ Frances said. ‘I don’t think I want to see him. I don’t know. He doesn’t like me.’
He squeezed her still-trembling hands. ‘My mum wasn’t a very nice person, Frances. She’s dead now but when I was a little boy I cried a lot.’ Too often, too much. ‘Sometimes, our parents don’t do the right thing. It’s not our fault, and sometimes it’s not their fault either, but we have to live with it, and that’s tough.’ He gave her time to let this sink in. ‘When they took me away from my mum I was ten years old. It hurt like hell. I was relieved to be away from her because she didn’t take good care of me, but I was also scared. Scared stupid that people would laugh at me or point at me and call me names.’
A shadow of interest crossed her face. ‘Did they?’
Jack shrugged. ‘Some of them, but not all. I was lucky—although I didn’t realise it for a long time. I was sent to twelve different foster homes over the next three years.’
‘How is that lucky?’
‘Because I found my way to the thirteenth. They didn’t push me. They just loved me, or wanted to love me. I didn’t let them of course, not at first. I was a badass, like Billy.’
He returned her small smile, his heart filling. ‘These people in my life, this new family, weren’t pushing me to do what they wanted, or to behave in a certain way, but gently reinforcing that I needed to care about myself, and that by caring about myself I’d be a better person. They told me that all the emotional rage going on in my head would fade and I’d be able to handle it. They wanted me to be happy. That’s when I realised they might actually care. Really care. I’d never had anyone care in that way before.’
‘Neither have I. Not really.’
He didn’t want to open a conversation with her about how she’d been treated by her father and her step-mother. That could come later, once she understood the bedrock of all this messiness inside her was love. The new love all around her. Jack had spoken with many counsellors in his youth. They were kind and decent, but there was nothing like having one person in your life who believed in you. Nothing like it. ‘You have now,’ he said. ‘That’s what Jax is doing for you.’
A doubtful look clouded her face. Jack unfurled to stand, squeezed her hands again. ‘It is, Frances. I promise. Do you think I’d lie to you?’
She met his eye and held it, searching. Then she shook her head.
‘Give her a chance,’ he told her. ‘You can take your time. Take all the time you need but know that Jax loves you and will never hurt you. She’ll wait for you and walk at your side, Frances, like my last foster family did for me.’
Jax ran out of the house and onto the front verandah when she heard a vehicle draw up outside.
‘What took you so long?’ she called out to Jack, forcing a smile to hide her concern. The bull was paddocked, Solomon had gone and she’d been pacing the house waiting for Jack. She’d called him and he hadn’t answered. She’d called Jimmy at the station and Jimmy told her something about Jack having arrested two goats.
Jack raised his face to her as he opened the passenger door. He shook his head, his face serious, as though warning her that she was about to get some sort of shock.
Then Frances got out.
‘What happened?’ Jax asked as she ran down the verandah steps and along the path to the edge of the garden.
‘It’s okay. She’s fine.’
‘Jack had it covered,’ Frances said.
Her gaze was bright, almost perky, but she’d been crying. Her eyes were red-rimmed.
‘Had what covered?’ Jax asked, her heart rate spiking.
Jack explained what had happened with the two men who were fighting, and about the goats, but it sounded like he was retelling the tale with too much ease in his tone. She kept glancing at Frances who had her eyes trained on Jack.
‘Are you okay, Frances?’ she asked.
Frances took her rapt attention off Jack. ‘I was driving.’
Jack cleared his throat. ‘Just a lesson.’
‘I got up to third gear.’
‘We were on your property, so it was legal. And we’re all safe,’ Jack said, ‘as I knew we would be.’ He threw that last bit of information Jax’s way, catching her eye.
She gave him an imperceptible nod. There was no way Jack Maxwell would have put Frances in danger.
‘So here’s the thing, ladies,’ he said. ‘From now on, until these idiots who might be trespassing on your property are out of our hair, the police advise you keep three dogs inside the house at night. The police also advise you two to stick together. The police will also be staying over each night. Jax, when are you returning to work at the café?’
‘Um …’ She shook her head to clear the sudden confusion. ‘I have to do three days a week. Frances will be with me. I’ve made one of the back storerooms her own private area.’
‘I’d like you to work five days a week.’
‘Five?’
‘Are we in witness protection?’ Frances asked.
‘No,’ Jack said. ‘You haven’t witnessed anything. But you are under orders.’ He nudged her with his elbow. ‘Otherwise I might have to arrest you. You saw how I handled those goats. Don’t mess with me.’
Jax got the shock of her life when Frances gave him a grin. ‘You’re lying about arresting us,’ she said.
He tweaked her nose. ‘Want to test me?’
Frances pulled back, but she was still smiling.
Panic surged. Her daughter was already enchanted with him. She wanted Frances to find friends, whether grown-ups or kids her own age, but one day Jack would walk out of their lives. Jax would cope, she was an adult, but Frances was still a child. A child who’d been abandoned by her father. So what was she to do? Could she keep Jack at bay, romantically, whilst allowing a natural friendship to blossom between him and Frances? Because Jack would help Frances; he already had. Frances adored him, whether she knew it or not. He was already her father-figure.
‘Come on,’ she said to Frances, and hooked a protective arm over her shoulders, glad that Frances allowed it. ‘Let’s get you inside where it’s cool. Rosie’s here. She’s in the kitchen. She came to watch the bull being unloaded.’
‘Jax, can I have a word?’
Something in Jack’s eyes told her he had more to tell her. ‘Go on inside,’ she said to Frances. ‘And don’t squabble too much with Rosie.’
They waited until Frances was in the house before speaking. Jax pushed her fingers into the pockets of her jeans. ‘What is it?’
‘The two men fighting. It was the Baxter boys. Frances got a fright so we had a little chat.’
That’s why she’d been red-eyed. No surprise, after what Michael had done to her. She wondered what form the chat had taken, but didn’t get time to ask.
‘There’s a man called Joseph Bivic,’ Jack said. ‘He works at Lizard Claws. I’ve got my eye on him.’
‘What has this got to do with me and Frances?’
‘Bivic is Roper’s nephew.’
She took a moment to think about this. If Jack was watching him, he must be some sort of criminal. ‘Is he dangerous?’ Apprehension got her by the throat. ‘Are you worried he might come here for payback because he’s friends with the Baxter boys and because I fired them?’
He took both her hands and eased them out from where she had them clenched in her jeans’ pockets. ‘Either Solomon or I will be keeping a night watch around your house. Will and Donna will do a number of casual drive-bys every day. But I’d prefer you both in town during daytime hours. It’ll be easier for me to keep an eye on you.’
She inhaled, gathering all this information in her head. ‘Are you in Mt Maria because of this Bivic man?’
He didn’t answer.
‘Does Mr Roper know his nephew is dangerous?’
‘I’ve arranged to talk to Roper today, once I get back to the station. But I can’t make it look like I’m interested in his nephew. That’s why I had the goats taken to the station. He’s meeting me there later.’
‘Because if you questioned him about his nephew, it would damage whatever operation you’re on?’
He smiled, but said nothing.
‘Why can’t you just tell me?’
‘You’re safe. You and Frances. We’ve got you covered. Can I sleep on your sofa again tonight?’
Unbelievably, she melted a little. But she couldn’t let that happen. She pulled her hands out of his. ‘You’re here because you’re undercover, doing something I know nothing about, but you’re still only here while you’re on a case.’
He didn’t agree; he merely said, ‘Go on.’
‘Even though I’m tempted to … be with you while you’re here, I can’t. Obviously.’
‘How much do I tempt you?’
‘Jack,’ she warned. ‘What are you going to do after all this is over?’
He took a breath, easing back into a lighter frame of mind. ‘I could be a kitchen hand at the café.’
‘Jack!’
‘Maybe I’ll buy an animal rescue truck and drive around the bush all day looking for injured animals.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘You’ll go back to Sydney.’
‘I could run the youth centre or start a karate club. I could definitely run the local pistol club.’
‘Be serious, Jack.’
‘Don’t you think being with me would be a good place to be?’
She nodded without meaning to, but his personal question caught her off guard.
‘But you’re not quite there yet.’
‘It’s not that—’
‘Honest to God, I don’t know what I’ll do, but that doesn’t mean I won’t find something to do. In the meantime, I’m going to take you out. We’ve got a mountain to climb and some wildflowers to steal.’
She blinked, bewildered. ‘Wildflower season is eight months away.’
‘Then I guess I’ll have eight months to keep taking you out.’
‘You have to get real about this. You have to think carefully and seriously.’
‘I am,’ he said. ‘Marry me.’