“She did what?”
“Ms. Parker went to lunch,” the nervous intern repeated.
“With Veronica Ramsey and Carter Hargraves?” he clarified, just in case he’d lost his mind and imagined his business partner—the woman he loved and wanted to spend the rest of his life with—had gone off to discuss selling part of their company to a man who didn’t give a shit about his family’s legacy, much less the people in Butte Plains.
“And Colin Parker,” another intern added with a dreamy sigh. “I didn’t know Ms. Parker and Colin Parker were related.”
Ford growled. Both women took a step back, and Ford gave himself a mental shake. He couldn’t blame them, they were just the messengers. He made a conscious effort to school his features into something civilized. Becky Jean would skin him alive if he scared off their help, and they had to man this booth for the rest of the week by themselves. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
“You didn’t know Colin Parker was her brother either?” the ditsier one asked.
Ford grabbed control of his temper with both hands. “Yes, I knew he was her brother. I even knew she planned to have lunch with him today. I didn’t know about Ms. Ramsey and the other guy.”
“That was all of a sudden, I think,” the more reasonable one said. Ashley? Or is her name Amy?
“What makes you think so?”
Ashley/Amy shrugged. “I don’t know. Colin was here then Ms. Ramsey walked up. Everyone else was all, you know”—she made a whirly gesture near her temple—“over Colin, so I don’t think they noticed the way Ms. Parker spoke to her. I don’t know why exactly, but it didn’t seem like a friendly conversation.”
Knowing she hadn’t had a pleasant conversation with those two helped ease the knot in his gut somewhat. “You weren’t impressed by Colin?” he asked, giving her what he hoped appeared to be a friendly smile.
She shook her head. “Oh, no, sir. He’s cute and all, but I have a boyfriend back home. Seth is much better looking, and he can sing, too. His band plays every weekend down at the Roadhouse.”
The other girl standing behind Ashley/Amy rolled her eyes. Ford resisted the urge to laugh outright. “Seth lives in Butte Plains?”
“He has a place over on Cotton Street.”
Ford nodded. As he recalled, nothing but rundown apartments lined Cotton. “Next time Colin is in town, maybe we could get them together. He might be able to help Seth. That is, if your boyfriend is serious about the music business.”
Her face lit up like a Christmas tree, and she jumped and clapped her hands. “You’d do that? You’re awesome, Mr. Adams!” Then she launched herself at him.
He was trying to extricate himself from her bear hug when a familiar voice did the trick for him. “Amy, how many times do I have to tell you to keep your hands off the boss?”
Amy catapulted away, muttering apologies all around.
“Amy,” he said. “Ms. Parker is just kidding.” He turned to Becky Jean. “Aren’t you?”
“Of course I am, but let’s keep the public displays of affection down to a minimum. That’s not the reputation Adams Manufacturing wants to project to the public.”
So, she did care about the company. He only hoped she cared enough not to sell her share, but if she really wanted out, he’d buy her out himself. Adams Manufacturing had always been a family business. Family should own it.
“It won’t happen again, will it, Amy?” He winked at the young lady and she nodded.
“No, sir. Thank you, Mr. Adams,” she said. “I can’t wait to tell Seth what you said.”
Becky Jean’s head swiveled between the two of them as if she couldn’t decide if she really wanted to know what he’d told the girl or not.
“Glad to help.” He’d had enough small talk. He and Becky Jean were overdue for a long discussion. He reached for her hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Ms. Parker and I have some business to discuss.”
“Call me if you have any problems,” Becky Jean said over her shoulder as he dragged her away from the booth.
He would have preferred more privacy for what he wanted to say to her, but the curtained-off storage area in the back corner of the convention hall would do.
“What’s this about, Ford?” she asked as he pulled her through a gap in the black drapes.
He came to a stop and spun around to face her. The color he’d noticed on her cheeks when she arrived at the booth had deepened. Images of all the places he’d seen that particular shade of pink on her body flashed through his brain like a brush fire, igniting a matching one inside him. Where have you been all my life?
“What?”
“I didn’t— Oh. I said that out loud?”
She nodded, studying him as if he’d grown two heads or something. “Are you okay, Ford?”
He chuckled. He’d envisioned this conversation going a lot smoother. He didn’t have a clue what he should say next. If he told her he loved her and asked her to marry him, would she think he just wanted to keep her from selling? And if he asked her if she planned to sell, would she think he cared more about the company than he did her? Either way, he was screwed.
“There’s something I want—no, need to say to you, but I just figured out there’s no good way to say it.”
“Oh. My. God!” Her eyes swam with tears. “You are going to sell! That bitch was right!”
“No!” When she tried to jerk her hand out of his, he held on tight. “No, Becks.” He got down in her line of sight and shook his head. “No. I told you. I’m not selling Adams Manufacturing. Not now, not ever.”
His declaration seemed to calm her a bit, but the edge of the woods had never looked farther away. He swallowed hard and said the last thing he wanted to say. “But I understand if you want to sell your 25 percent. It’s worth a lot of money. You’d be set for life, you and your mother. You could go anywhere, do anything you wanted, and never worry about money ever again.” He squeezed her fingers, hoping she’d hear what he wasn’t saying in the words he was saying. “Adams Manufacturing has always been a family-owned business.”
She sniffed and wiped her cheeks with the fingers of her free hand. “I understand. You want to buy me out.” The finality in her statement wrecked him. He’d done a shit-poor job of showing her what she meant to him.
“No. You don’t understand at all. I don’t want to buy you out.” He had to get this right. Holding onto her hand so she couldn’t bolt, he dropped to one knee. “I want to marry you. Becky Jean Parker, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife—my partner in life and in business—for as long as we both shall live?”
Maybe he’d laid it on thick, but he wanted her to know he understood exactly what he’d asked her to do. He’d never thought he’d marry. Never wanted to—until Becky Jean showed him what love was. His knee protested to being on the concrete, but he’d get down on both knees and beg if he had to.
“You don’t have to marry me, Ford. I’ll sell—”
He couldn’t listen to another word about selling. Not today. “No. I don’t want your share of the company, Becks. I want you. Just you. Say you’ll marry me. Please, I don’t know—”
“Shh.” She shushed him with a finger against his lips. “Why? If you don’t want the company, then why?”
It dawned on him then. He’d forgotten the most important thing. Shit!
“Ford Adams!” She tried to get away, but he held fast.
“Didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he said. He shook his head. “I’m making a mess of this, Becks.” He stood and took both her hands in his. Closing the distance between them, he rested his forehead against hers. Their gazes met and held.
“I should have led with I love you. I do. Love you, I mean. More than anything. You make me want to be a better person, Becky Jean. I see you and the love you have for other people, and I can’t help but want some of your love for myself. I love you. I want to have you by my side, as my wife, my lover, and my partner for the rest of our lives. I won’t give up Adams Manufacturing, but I can’t run it without you. You are Adams Manufacturing. The only thing you’re missing is the name.”
He ducked his head and brushed his lips over hers. “Please, say you’ll be my wife.”
Laughter—joy—bubbled up within her and came out as a hiccup. She’d always dreamed of finding a man to love her, one who respected her as an equal. She could hardly believe her ears, but that kiss. It had been so sweet and showed a vulnerability she’d never seen in Ford before, except maybe on the first day when he’d just buried his father then discovered his family legacy had become a concrete block tied around his ankles. She’d fallen in love with him then—or maybe it had been later, when he’d brought her a pocket sandwich and she’d seen the dismay in his eyes at what had happened to his hometown.
She’d known then his emotions ran deep. He cared, even if he told himself he didn’t.
They were good together. In the office. On screen. In bed. Lord, were they good together in bed. She flushed just thinking about the possibility of experiencing the kind of passion they had together for the rest of her life.
“I’m dying here, Becks. Say something. Please.”
“You’re a good man, Ford Adams.”
“No,” he groaned.
“Of course I’ll marry you.”
“What?”
“Do we need to get your hearing checked? I said yes. I’ll marry you.”
“Yes!” He let go of one of her hands and speared a fist into the air. “She said yes!”
“Shh! Ford.”
“I don’t care who hears me. I want to shout it to the world.” He stilled. “Let’s go up to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Wait! No. Let’s get married. Today. Right now.” He grabbed her other hand again.
“I don’t want to wait another day to make you mine. We can do the big wedding later if you want. No one else has to know we’re already married. Just, please, let’s do it today.”
“Before you change your mind?” She fought to keep the smile off her face, but her lips had a mind of their own. Teasing Ford was so much fun!
“I’ll never, ever change my mind about you, Becky Jean. I love you. I always will.”
“I’ll do it on one condition.”
“Anything you want, sweetheart. Anything.”
If she was going to get married in Las Vegas, by George, she intended to do it right. “I want an Elvis wedding.”
He laughed out loud. “Anything you want, Becks. Anything you want.”
“I want you. Just you.”