"No regrets?" I called over my shoulder as we stopped at an overlook, Pike Creek's lights spread below us.
She pulled off her helmet, shaking out her hair, and the smile she gave me was pure freedom. "None. This is who I am when I'm not trying to be perfect."
"And who's that?"
"The woman who's crazy about you." She leaned in for a kiss, soft and slow. "The woman who chooses the bike over the badge every time if that's what it takes."
"You don't have to choose. You can have both."
"Can I?" Her gaze drifted toward town, where her father was probably still fuming. "Dad's never going to accept this."
"He doesn't have to. This is your life, Quinn. Your choice."
Quiet stretched between us before she nodded. "You're right. My choice." She put the helmet back on, settling behind me. "Let's go home."
"Your place or mine?"
"Yours," she said without hesitation. "Mine doesn't feel like home anymore."
As we rode back down the mountain, Quinn holding tight, something fundamental had shifted. This morning, keeping herhad been my focus. Now I knew I already had her—completely, publicly, permanently.
The sheriff could rage all he wanted.
The town could gossip.
None of it mattered.
Quinn had chosen me, and I'd chosen her, and everything else was just noise.
We pulled into my apartment, and Quinn's expression went soft as she climbed off the bike.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For coming to get me. For making me brave enough to choose what I wanted instead of what I should want."
"You were always brave, sweetheart. You just needed someone to remind you."
She smiled, taking my hand. "Come on. Let's go inside and not hide anymore."
Following her up the stairs to my apartment—our apartment now, really—I thought about how three weeks ago she'd written me a ticket, all fire and determination.
Now she was mine, and everyone knew it.
Best speeding ticket I ever got.
EPILOGUE
WOLF- THREE MONTHS LATER
Buck's on a Thursday night had become our tradition. Pool, beer, and my brothers giving me shit about being domesticated—though they'd mostly given up on that since Quinn had beaten Phoenix at pool so badly last month he'd sulked for a week.
I was lining up a corner pocket shot when Tank straightened from the bar, grin spreading across his face. "Uh oh, boys. Trouble just walked in. Deputy's here."
The theatrical worry in his voice made Phoenix snort. Blade didn't even look up from his phone. We all knew who it was—the only deputy who'd walk into Buck's after shift looking for us instead of trouble.
I turned, and there she was. Quinn stood in the doorway still in uniform, duty belt and all, but her hair was down from its tight bun and she'd lost the professional mask she wore on duty. The small silver pendant at her throat caught the bar lights—a subtle pike fish, marking her as mine to anyone who knew what to look for.
