“Grab your purse,” he said as he motioned toward my purse.
I grabbed my purse, followed him through the garage, and stopped in the driveway. As I checked my ponytail, I glanced down at the back of his bike. Rumbling through the exhaust and shaking, the back fender shook from side to side.
I glanced at the back of it with unfocused eyes, repositioned my purse, and started to get on.
Something in my head registered a few seconds late.
His plate was different.
I stepped back, studied the license plate, and narrowed my eyes as I stared at it.
“Your plate doesn’t say RFOF anymore,” I said as I stared down at it.
He climbed off the bike, turned to face me, and crossed his arms, “Nope.”
I read the letters out loud, “W.Y. M. M.”
“What’s it mean now?” I shrugged.
“Figure it out. Been on there for about three weeks waitin’ for ya to see it,” he huffed.
I stared down at the tag.
While. You. Might …
Wont. You.
What. You’re.
I shook my head and stared. Shit like that had always bothered me. I hated not being able to figure out license plates. I gazed at it with unfocused eyes and thought.
W.Y.M.M.
Will. You Marry.
Holy shit, no way. He’s not that…
I glanced up at him. Standing with his arms crossed and his mouth covered with a full on smirk, he studied me. I gazed down at the letters, not certain of their order.
W.Y.M.M.
“Will you marry me?” I whispered as I studied the plate.
I glanced upward after I spoke. I had said it louder than I intended to, and was slightly embarrassed. As the words escaped my lips, my heart raced.
I wondered if I guessed right.
“As a matter of fact I will,” he said as he reached into his jeans pocket.
“Been carryin’ this fucker for three weeks, since right after I asked your father if it was okay. Had to spend my bond money on somethin’ when they gave it back, figured this was as good as anything. Katrina Chadsworth…” he paused as he knelt down in front of me on one knee.
You asked my father?
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
I raised my hand to my mouth and nodded my head as the tears rolled down my cheeks. He reached out, held my left hand in his, and slipped the ring onto my finger.
“Not as pretty as you, but damn close,” he said.
I glanced down at the ring, still in shock over what had happened. After a few minutes of absorbing the beauty of the ring, I shifted my eyes to meet Dalton’s and gazed at him in a semiconscious state.
“I love you, Kat,” he said as he kissed me on the lips.
“I love…I love…you,” I blubbered as our lips parted.
He glanced at his watch. His eyes widened and left hand immediately shot into the air. As he extended his index finger, he twirled it in a circle.
“Saddle up,” he shouted into the air, “Let’s roll.”
I laughed into my clenched hand as I climbed onto the bike.
Life with Dalton Biskette was a lot of things.
Wild.
Crazy.
Fun.
Adventurous.
Full of love.
But there was one thing it wasn’t.
Predictable.
Hung (Selected Sinners MC #4) Page 22
