Page 59 of Biker's Property

If there’s one thing I learned about being a so-called “church girl” is that I don’t have all the answers.

I just knowthat I don’t want to be alone.

This man could have easily killedme, but he didn’t. More than that, he wants to protect me. And I want to trust him, even if it might be crazy to trust anyone after what I’ve been through.

I don’t have enough experience to know what happens next. I look at Ryder, and it’s like he can read my mind.

“I have a plan, church girl. You, me, Las Vegas.”

“You haven’t had a Vegas wedding before, have you?”

“Nope. But I’ve dreamed of one and been a biker long enough to know how it works.”

“We just walk in with no identification and get married?”

“If you know where to go… yes.”

“Is it seedy?”

“I would never bring you anywhere seedy, church girl. Now… let’s get your ass on that bike before I do something else with it…”

He squeezes my ass with such possessive firmness that a shiver runs straight through me. Why the hell does Ryder make me feel like this? He’s everything I learned to stand against in church… yet I want to throw myself into him with all the force I can. I want to marry him. Strange as that decision might have seemed to my past self.

I don’t know about this tattoo thing but… he hasn’t reached for the flask in his pocket yet, which might be a record.

We don’t have much to pack, but Ryder doesn’t allow me to lift a finger. It feels strange compared to how things were with my first husband. I can’t stop myself from watching him as he packs documents up in the safe, sends a few text messages off and packs some clothes in a black duffel bag. He takes the flask out of his cut once he’s done and hands it to me with a serious expression on his face.

“The flask is an heirloom, but I won’t need it anymore. I meant what I said…”

I hold onto the flask, looking down at the inscription.

Randall Sinclair.

“Did this belong to your dad?”

“Yes,” he says. “He died.”

“So did mine.”

Ryder stops movingtowards the door. He can’t allow me to have an emotion that he doesn’t acknowledge. I’ve never felt so seen. He wraps his arm around me and kisses the top of my forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I know how it hurts.”

Then he slipshis hand in mine and we leave the motel together, saying a brief goodbye to the lady at the front desk. His bike sits out front, ready to take on the highway all the way to Vegas. Once we’re outside, Ryder keeps looking over at me. Like he’s thinking of something.

“What?”

“Before we get married, we’ll need proper clothes. I want to see you in a wedding dress.”

I roll my eyes. He can’t be serious. We’re eloping in Las Vegas. The best I hoped for was a tiara. I didn’t get to pick the wedding dress for my first marriage, so it doesn’t make a difference to me.

“I don’t need a wedding dress.”

“Bullshit,” Ryder says. “What did you wear for your first wedding?”

“The church picked.”

“See?” Ryder says. “This time… It’ll be your choice. Helmet.”