by Amelia Stone
He looked at me, his hazel eyes roaming my face. “You never met my dad.”
I shook my head. “No, but I’ve met his son. And his son is a man who loves with every fiber of his being. He had to have learned that somewhere.”
He swallowed, looking at me with so much affection that my knees wobbled. Then he kissed me like I was the thing he loved most.
“I have one more accessory for you,” he said when he pulled back. He cleared his throat, his eyes shifting to something behind me. He looked nervous, like he wasn’t sure what to say next.
I froze. Oh, God. Was he going to…?
He reached behind me, pulling something off the shelf at my back. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply to calm down. Yeah, no. That was not possible, not when he was maybe about to…
“Open your eyes,” he murmured, and I hurriedly complied, looking down excitedly.
At a helmet.
“What is this?” I asked, not able to help how incredulous I sounded.
He frowned. “It’s a motorcycle helmet.”
“I can see that,” I snipped.
“What the fuck are you mad about now?” He ran a hand through his hair. “You have to wear a helmet. It’s the law.”
“I know that. I’m not an idiot.” I smacked him on the shoulder. “But that’s not what I expected you to give me.”
He frowned. “Well, what did you expect?”
“A ring!” I glared at him.
“A ring?” he echoed. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
“And why not?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I want to marry you. And I’m pretty sure you want to marry me too.”
“I do,” he admitted.
“Then why won’t you propose?”
“Because,” he growled as he fitted the helmet on my head. “You can’t have my ring until you respect me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, then I guess we’re never getting married.”
His newly-trimmed beard twitched, and now I could see that it was because he was trying not to smile. “Doesn’t matter,” he replied. “You’re mine no matter what.”
I nodded. “Damn right I am. Now let’s get going.”
He chuckled as he settled into the seat. Then he looked up at me, grinning like a fool. “You’re the boss.”
I’m running on no sleep, so I’ll probably forget most of you. But I will try my best.
For Jenn and Denna, thank you for being amazing admins and friends. You keep me sane (ish), and for that, I am grateful.
For my StoneHearts, you make me happy (ish), and for that, I love you.
For the real (ish) Taylor, thank you for being a friend.
For Amy, Alicia, and Stephanie, thank you for making sure I have a reason to talk to people every day, for letting me whine, and for telling me when to stop whining and get shit done.
For Grandma Dog, thanks for kicking cancer’s ass and living to fight another day.
For Becky, the Inkers, the Harlots, and the Indie Authors, thank you for your support, advice, recommendations, and camaraderie. No one should have to do this completely alone, and thanks to you, I don’t.
And finally, for my family. Thanks for being you, the good, the bad, and definitely the crazy.
Amelia Stone writes contemporary romance about real(ish) people who just want to find love, because really, don’t we all? She is the author of the Time for Love series and the South Bay Soundtracks series. She knew at the age of five that she wanted to be a writer, and she wrote and illustrated her first book in the third grade. (It was about kittens, of course.) When she’s not writing, she can usually be found eating Mexican food, listening to New Wave music, or attempting to co-opt someone else’s dog. She lives in Arizona.
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newsletter
A Time for Love:
One More Time
The First Time
Moments in Time
Time After Time
South Bay Soundtracks:
Desire
Crazy In Love
Lover’s Game – April 2018
