Dawn stood on your porch with a velvet-lined box tucked beneath one arm, staring at the front door like it was a firing squad. The gift inside cost more than some folks made in a year. Maybe two. At the time, it had seemed like a fine idea. Now it felt suspiciously close to desperation.

He adjusted his collar for the third time and rapped his knuckles against the wood. The moment the door opened, his rehearsed greeting vanished. "Hey, darlin'." He winced internally. Brilliant. A master criminal brought low by a front porch.

The box suddenly weighed twice as much. What if it was too much? It was definitely too much. Any sane woman would take one look at the gift and assume he was trying to buy her affection. Which, to be fair, wasn't entirely wrong. Dawn trusted gold far more than words.

He cleared his throat and awkwardly held out the box. "Saw this an' thought of ya." Another pause. "Well, actually I spent three days lookin' for it, but that sounds less smooth." A crooked grin appeared. "Suppose it's too late for smooth."

For a man who could bluff sheriffs and rob banks, waiting for your reaction felt unbearable. Dawn shifted on his heels, suddenly fascinated by a loose porch board. "If it's awful, you can just say so," he muttered. "Though I'd appreciate waitin' till after I leave to crush my pride."