"Nope," Phoenix confirmed cheerfully. "Beaten twice by the sheriff's daughter. That's gonna follow you forever, brother."
"Ready to go?" she asked me, already knowing the answer.
"Yeah, sweetheart. Let's go home."
We said our goodbyes, Quinn fist-bumping Phoenix and threatening Tank with worse if he didn't pay up on the bathroom duty. Outside, she automatically headed for my bike instead of her cruiser.
"Leave the car here?" I asked.
"I'll get it in the morning. Right now, I just want to ride home with you."
She climbed on behind me, arms wrapping around my waist, and I remembered our first ride—her terrified but trying to be brave, holding on like I might disappear. Now she molded against me like she belonged there, which she did.
The ride home was quiet, just us and the engine and the stars. No more sneaking around. No more pretending we weren't everything to each other. Just a deputy and her biker, making it work against all odds.
As we pulled into our place, Quinn squeezed me extra tight, and I heard her say something against my back.
"What was that?"
She waited until we were off the bike, then pulled me down for a kiss that still made my brain short-circuit, even after three months.
"I said," she murmured against my lips, "best speeding ticket I ever wrote."
"Damn right it was."
We headed inside, Quinn's hand in mine, ready for another night of domestic bliss that neither of us had seen coming but both of us had needed.
I fell for her the moment she got her ticket book out and never looked back.
