“Aw, you’re too good to me,” Gray said, leaning up to kiss her on the cheek. “She shuffles cards and she lets me pick the game. What’d I do to deserve you, huh?”
He thought, briefly, of the ring he had somehow managed to keep hidden even in the close quarters of the library. His parents’ ring set, truth told, and so maybe not all that lucky. But Gray had never believed in stumbling on luck. It wasn’t a thing that happened, luck. It was a thing you went out and hit over the head with a club. You made your own luck.
Not the right time, though. Not yet. Not so soon off a fight, not when she might always wonder if he had proposed just to keep her from leaving, or to keep her feeling special when he didn’t mean it. He wanted that proposal to mean something.
“I think War. You know. The game you can’t cheat at.” He said this with a twinkle in his eye, pronouncing can’t as cain’t. Savannah sure did know how to pick a hick. “So don’t you go accusin’ me of it.”