Page 4 of Viking

The Strip is alive. Lights, sounds, bodies moving in all directions. It’s loud, chaotic. Too much. I mentally curse Ryan for dragging me out. Crowds make my skin crawl these days. Eight years of military training doesn’t love the lack of control.

But she’s beside me, and suddenly, it’s bearable.

Lila tucks a strand of long brown hair behind her ear as she looks up at the lights around us. “Have you ever been here before?” she asks.

“Yeah, my dad was stationed at Nellis for a few years growing up. I was young, so I didn’t experience Vegas, but yeah, I’ve been here. What about you?”

She shakes her head, her curls bouncing. “This isn’t really my thing. It’s beautiful in it’s own way, but it’s”—she struggles to find the right word—“intense. So where to?”

It’s a fair question. I hadn’t thought this far ahead, too focused on the fact that she’d actually stayed. I shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans, buying myself a second to think.

“Honestly? I didn’t have a plan,” I admit, flashing her a grin. “Just didn’t want you to walk out with your friends.”

Her full lips curve into a smile. “Not much of a planner, huh? That’s surprising for someone in the military.” She smirks and I swear a knowing look flashes across her pretty face but then it’s gone.

I laugh at that, shaking my head. “Depends on the situation. If I’m in the cockpit or on a mission, I’ve got every detail worked out. But with you? I guess I’m just winging it.”

Her laugh is light and warm and damn if I’m not about to trade anything to hear it again.

“Alright, flyboy,” she teases. “Let’s see how good you are at improvising.”

I rake my fingers through my hair, glancing down at Lila. The neon lights paint streaks of color across the pavement. She looks up at me, her eyes bright with laughter and her smile a little too tempting for my self-control.

“Well, what sounds good?” I ask, grinning. “We could grab another drink or go for a walk or...we could go find a chapel and get married.”

Her head tilts, lips curving with playful intrigue. “Married, huh?” she echoes, stepping closer like she’s daring me to push this further. “I don’t know. Do I at least get a ring out of the deal?”

I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. “I can win you one out of a claw machine. Plastic, sparkly, maybe it’ll even light up.”

Her laughter is instant and contagious, but she doesn’t let me off the hook. “Okay, but if we’re doing this, I’m going to need a real proposal. Down on one knee and everything.”

Something reckless surges through me. I don’t even hesitate. I just drop to one knee right there on the sidewalk, taking her hand in mine like this is the most normal thing in the world. People pass us by, some cheering, others too wrapped up in their own lives to notice.

“Lila,” I say, looking up at her with an exaggerated seriousness that barely masks the way my pulse is hammering. “Will you do me the honor of being my wife for the next eight to ten hours?”

She bites her lip, her eyes sparkling like the city lights around us. “Eight to ten hours?” she teases, fingers curling lightly around mine. “That’s all I get?”

I swallow, my throat inexplicably dry. “Maybe longer,” I murmur, and the words slip out before I can catch them.

Her smile softens, and for a split second, something very real passes between us. But then she grins, yanking me to my feet. “Okay,” she says, her voice dripping with mischief. “Let’s do it.”

I stumble, nearly tripping over myself as I stand. “Wait...what?”

She links her arm through mine, tugging me toward the street like this was her plan all along. “You proposed. I accepted. Isn’t that how this works?”

I laugh, a little breathless, my heart pounding way too hard for a joke. “Lila, I was kidding.”

She glances up at me, her smile downright wicked. “Were you?”

I don’t know.

I don’t know why my chest feels tight or why my fingers itch to touch her. I don’t know why the thought of walking into some random Vegas chapel, of her in white becoming Mrs. Logan James, makes my brain short-circuit.

But I let her drag me down the sidewalk, my hand slipping into hers like it belongs there. And for the life of me, I can’t bring myself to let go.

Lila clears her throat, her voice pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. I force myself to look at her instead of replaying the last five minutes in my head—the feel of her hand in mine, the way she smiled when she said yes, like we weren’t just messing around.

“How about that walk?” she suggests, glancing down at her heels like she might take them off but deciding against it. “Whose turn is it?”