"I'm sorry," I apologized for the zillionth time as Taylor and I navigated the surprisingly busy sidewalks of Victoria. Never in all my years had I seen the sidewalks this busy. The streets, yes. Sidewalks, no. Then again, I was never in Victoria during the warmer season and who wanted to walk in the rain? Northwest native or not?

"I have a terrible habit of looking at my feet when I walk." Actually, to be completely specific, I had a habit of looking roughly 2 and a half feet in front of my feet as I walked. Even on a perfectly solid, smooth, and unchanging landscape I would look at my feet. Except, for some reason, when I was barefoot. Maybe I could feel what was coming next with my feet or something. I don't know. I'm weird and random like that.

"We'll have to fix that," Taylor said playfully as he smiled that ridiculously gorgeous smile of his. It was probably the third or fourth thing I liked about him. I can't remember. I have two lists so it makes it complicated.

My first list is everything I love about Taylor. His smile, his laugh, his terribly gorgeous eyes and completely nuts sense of humor. The other list was everything I wanted in my future husband. What can I say? I'm old school. Either way, my "Things I Love About Taylor" list is as long as my "Prince Charming Will Be" list. What's even cooler is that Taylor lives up to every expectation of mine that I have about Prince Charming. And no, he hasn't seen the list. He doesn't even know I have it.

"Okay," Taylor said, jumping in front of me and putting his hands on my shoulders, "you're going to just keep walking and look me straight in the eyes. No breaking eye contact or I'll have to start playing the Hamster Dance song." It was an empty and pointless threat since Taylor and I would both start breaking out in spontaneous dance in the middle of the street if that song played. We often visited Hallmark stores just to listen to the music cards and dance like idiots. I know, we're awesome.

"Alright," I agreed half-heartedly, placing my hands over his for extra support. I'm the girl who trips over air and claims I'm merely testing gravity.

Thankfully though, I managed to keep eye contact with Taylor for more than few steps before wobbling a bit and scuffing my shoe on the cement. Taylor merely steadied me before we continued walking. Eventually, he released me and the first thing I did was purposefully prat fall just so he'd leave me alone about me looking at my feet.

"You okay, starshine?" he asked, catching me two feet off the ground and helping me stand. I stood on shaky feet, brushed non existent dirt off my faded blue jeans and rocked on my worn cowboy boots.

"Fine, darlin,'" I said, my not at all authentic drawl coming out. By definition, I am a born and bred country girl having lived in the country my entire life. The island country that is. By what the world thought, I wasn't from the south, didn't have a genuine drawl, and merely used words that southern people would so I had to be a pretender. In my opinion, there's a difference between a country girl and a southern belle. What would the difference be? Country girls kick ass.

"I could always carry you back to the hotel," he offered with a dangerous and devastatingly gorgeous smirk on his perfect face. What can I say? I'm whipped beyond whipped. Although I do think that only applies to guys, but hey, you get what I mean.

"I think I'm too heavy for you," I retorted in a moment of stupidity. How could I ignore the heaping mass of muscle standing next to me? Over the summer Taylor had gone from stick thin with a little muscle, to 30 pounds heavier- all muscle. The guy had muscles on his muscles and his biceps were probably as big as my thigh.

"You want to bet?" he challenged before swinging me up into his arms a la bridal style and carrying me across a cross walk.

"I have to admit," I said amid my laughter, "you ripped does have it's perks."

"So you only like me for my muscles," he stated, feigning that he was upset while still carrying me through the crowded streets earning us more than a few stares.

"No," I replied huridly, "I like you without muscles as well. I liked you as a skinny little boy and I like you completely ripped. You just couldn't carry me like this when you were tiny." Taylor's response was to toss me up into the air playfully before catching me.

"I was a kid," he complained, "and you happened to mature faster than me." That was Taylor speak for how big I was. I'm not fat mind you, but I do have some excessive pounds here and there. I like to eat. I like desserts. And my thighs are like a scrapbook of some awesome deserts I've had over the years.

"And I'm going to keep maturing," I spat back while attempting to disentangle myself from his grasp, but to no avail.

"Good," he replied, "you keep maturing and I'll go back to being a skinny shrimp and then when we wake up to each other every day for the rest of our lives, we'll have nothing to complain about." My entire body went rigid as he said that and Taylor got that, "crap, how do I dig myself out of this hole" kind of look. I looked up into his stunning gray eyes and smiled.

"That was sweet," I stated and he shot me a curious look while the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

"You didn't think it was weird?" he inquired and I shook my head.

"Nope," I replied honestly.

"Corny?" he tested and I shook my head again.

"I happen to like corny in case you've forgotten." He pondered something for a minute before setting me on my feet which only made him tower over me, even with my cowboy boots.

"So you'll still like me when I'm a skinny shrimp again?" he asked and I nodded.

"I'll still think you're the finest specimen of God's creation as well, hot stuff." I could see Taylor's ego go up a few notches.

"Will you still like me if I put on a little more weight?" I tested hesitantly. "I mean, you're hot whether ripped or shrimped, so you're good. Me however," I gestured to my jeans, "I don't think I'll be looking 'mighty fine' as you say if I add a few more deserts to my scrapbook." Taylor chuckled although I thought the situation was serious, and cupped the back of my head with his massive hands.

"I'll still think you're mighty fine," he stated and I bit the inside of my lip.

"Even when I'm not a size six jean wearer anymore?" Taylor nodded.

"You could be a size ten jean wearer and you'd still have your gorgeous green eyes, beautiful hair, your amazing smile, and your unique laugh." My two front teeth were semi-crooked, but Taylor thought they added character and was happy when I decided not to get braces.

"You'll still like me even then?" I tested again and his look suddenly became serious.

"Like you? Sure. Love you? Unconditionally. Want you? Absolutely." He leaned down from his towering height and placed a kiss to my forehead, the only place he could kiss me without my hands shaking and getting all clammy and me babbling like an idiot. What can I say? I'm a bit on the weird side.

That's when I heard it. As Taylor pulled away and slung his arm around my shoulder, pulling me through the crowd around us, with me looking up at him like he was the most amazing man I'd ever met- which he was- that is when I heard the small and still voice that had been my unwavering companion all these years.

"This is the one I have intended for you, Beloved."

That's probably the greatest thing a girl can here from her Father. That's probably the greatest thing anyone in love can hear. It soothed me, comforted me, and made me feel a little uneasy about being around this guy. For the first time in my life, I felt as though I could really open up about everything in my life to this guy and not be afraid of him walking away. Granted I'd tell him everything at a relatively slow pace. Even if he was my intended, I was going to be as old school as I normally was and take the slow road. And you know what, I don't think Taylor was going to mind. Kindred spirits we are.

Man... my Father knows how to pick 'em.