Page 128 of Ridin’ Dirty

I turned my back then, not wanting to give him another chance to deny me. I didn’t know what his next move would be, but I hoped for the best.

I was inches away from Riley, on the cusp of letting him know we could get out of there, when he asked with a straight face, “Did I hear you say you loved me?”

“Oh,” I started, my eyes wide in surprise. It was a truth I’d been living with for long enough, it seemed wrong to deny it, even if the thought of saying it to his face right now, like this, didn’t feel quite right. “What if you did?”

He glowered at me, not saying anything, making me anxious. Then he dropped his arms to his sides and walked around me, headed straight for my brother. When he was in reaching distance, he held out his hand as an offering and waited. I watched, my heart racing, not at all certain how this would end.

“Shit between the Kings and the Stallions is one thing,” said Riley when Carmy didn’t move. “Peace between you and me is for her.”

It took Carmy another few seconds, but Riley’s hand held steady until my brother accepted the gesture. My jaw nearly hit the floor at the sight of them shaking hands. It lasted only a second—but it was the most precious second ever.

When they let each other go, Riley said nothing more before starting back my way. He kept his silence as he mounted his hog, extending his hand when it was my turn.

Rather than take it, I gaped at him a second longer.

“You—you didn’t have to do that,” I stammered.

“Babe, any man who claimed to love you and didn’t do the same would be a liar. Hop on. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

“Wait,” I breathed. I then closed my eyes and shook my head in an attempt to clear it. “Did you just say you love me?”

“Ly—first time you hear me say those words will not be while I’m standin’ in King territory. Hop on.”

This time, I didn’t hesitate. I was at his back, my arms wrapped around his middle so fast. I felt rather than heard his quiet chuckle. I knew he was laughing at me, but I didn’t care.

I wanted him to take me home.

I wanted him to say the words.

I was so totally going to be late for work.

Three Months Later

There was snow on the ground, and the frigid December air was making sure it stuck around for at least another day or two—but that wasn’t going to stop me from leaving the house in the outfit I’d been planning to wear all week. I was in a strapless, lacy, white corset top and the shortest denim shorts I owned, my tan cowgirl boots waiting for me by the door. My hair recently trimmed, I styled the bob with a slight curl, and I was just about done with my face. Tonight, I wanted to look perfect.

Viv, Max, and the rest of the ol’ ladies were throwing Riley and me a party.

I’d been Mrs. Wells for almost exactly four months. The drama that followed our elopement wouldn’t soon be forgotten—the final conflict between the Kings and the Stallions nothing by comparison to the murder that was the catalyst to it all.

I heard stories of civil wars within a club, and I was aware of the threat of war between the Stallions and the Kings. But having a front row seat to the battle we all lived through was something I hoped I never experienced again. The sleepless nights. The crowded clubhouse. The uncertainty and the danger, it was all so exhausting.

Exhausting and worth it. For the peace of mind. For the burned and mended bridges. For the fortification of the loyalty that defined the brotherhood of the Wild Stallions Motorcycle Club—and for the freedom it bought Carmine.

Wild as it was, it was in the past, now. Tonight, things finally felt normal enough that we were celebrating. It wasn’t exactly a wedding reception, because that wouldn’t suit us, but I felt inspired to wear white, anyhow.

“Ly—”

Pistol filled the doorway of the bathroom and froze, frowning at me in confusion.

“Sun’s long gone, baby. You’ll freeze your ass off.”

“No, I won’t,” I said, finishing the last of my makeup. “You’ll blast the heat in the truck, and I’ll be just fine.”

“Is that what you think?”

I heard his raised eyebrow before I turned and saw it aimed right at me.

“We live, like, two minutes from the clubhouse. I’ll be fine. Besides—would you prefer me in a pair of cut off shorts when I’m in the chair, or would it be better for me to drop my pants and stretch out in my thong?”