Hannah's voice softened. For you. Grant closed his eyes. Just once. When he opened them, something guarded in him was gone.
He removed his hat. Then to Hannah's astonishment, the giant cowboy lowered himself to one knee in the muddy ranchyard. Molly gasped. Henry whispered, "Finally." Grant shot him a look. Henry immediately became fascinated with the porch rail.
Hannah almost laughed through the tears burning her eyes. Grant looked up at her. Even kneeling, he seemed enormous. But there was nothing imposing in him now. Only a man with his hat in one hand and his heart apparently laid bare in the other.
Hannah Pierce, her throat tightened. Grant swallowed. I don't know how to say this pretty good. The corner of his mouth moved. I'd distrust you if you did.
That almost became a smile. Then he grew serious again. I want you to stay because when you're gone from a room, I notice. Hannah stopped breathing. I want you because you argue with me when I'm wrong.
Henry nodded vigorously. Grant ignored him. Because you make coffee stronger than any sensible person should drink it. That is false. It is not.
Hannah wiped quickly beneath one eye. Grant continued. Because you found Henry in the pantry and gave him dignity instead of shame. Henry looked down. Because Molly trusted you with her mother's ribbon.
Molly pressed the blue ribbon to her chest. Because you looked at me when I was under that corral rail and saw a man who needed help, not a giant who ought to be ashamed of needing it. Hannah's mouth trembled. Grant's voice grew rougher. Because you walked into a snowstorm when you were afraid and found me anyway.
He stopped. The ranchard was so quiet. Hannah could hear water dripping from the eaves. Grant looked at her. And because this house has been full of people for years, but it did not feel like home again until you came through the door.
Hannah covered her mouth with one hand, Grant's eyes never left hers. You once said no man wanted a plus-sized woman like you. Hannah lowered her hand. Grant shook his head. You were wrong.
Her tears finally spilled. He continued. I want you exactly as you are. I want the space you take at my table. I want your dress hanging upstairs.
I want your handwriting in my ledgers and your coffee on my window and your voice telling me when I've tracked mud across your floor. Hannah laughed then, wet and broken and real. Grant smiled fully this time. I want you when the children are grown and gone. That stopped her.
Grant's voice softened. When there's nobody here who needs you except me. Hannah stared at him. There, that was the answer. Not mother, not housekeeper, not solution.
Woman, chosen. Grant held out one hand. Hannah Pierce, will you marry me? She looked at the huge hand waiting between them. The same hand that had held hers in the trapper's cabin.