Page 59 of Exposed Ink

I’m standingby the desk when Shane walks inside, holding a pizza box in his hand. I wasn’t expecting him today—and I know he’s not on my client list since I went over it this morning—but I can’t help but smile at him surprising me here since he can’t call or text me. Well, he can … he just doesn’tknowthat he can.

“Pizza?” I ask, stating the obvious.

“Hopefully you haven’t had lunch yet,” he says, setting the pie down. “I would’ve called or texted but …”

Scott chuckles, knowing all about Shane wanting my number. “I’m starved.”

He reaches over to open the box, but Shane grabs the box first and sets it out of Scott’s reach. “Not yet.” He glares at Scott, then looks at me, his features softening. “I’ve tried to think of how to ask you to be my girlfriend since I left your house the other night, and the only thing I’ve come up with is that I suck at coming up with romantic shit, so I’m just going to throw it out there.”

Scott snorts, and I stifle my laugh at the same time my dad walks out to join the party.

“What’s going on?” Dad asks, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m about to ask Kinsley if she’ll be my girlfriend,” Shane says.

In the corner of my eye, I see my dad’s brows hit his forehead because he thinks I’m going to say no.

“Kinsley,” Shane begins, “since the moment I saw you all puffy and struggling to breathe, I knew I wanted to make you mine.”

The guys laugh, and I shake my head because this just might be the worst speech I’ve ever heard, but it’s also, in a weird way, very sweet.

“You’ve got this way about you that draws me in, like a bag of Sour Patch Kids. I crave the sour and look forward to the sweet.” He steps toward me, and suddenly, it feels like we’re the only people in the room.

“Even when you were trying to fight the inevitable and push me away, you still welcomed my daughter into your fold with open arms.”

He places a hand on my hip, and hot tears sting my eyes because I wasn’t prepared for this. I thought he’d just ask, not give an entire speech.

“I love how creative you are, how passionate you are about your work, and the way you can’t stay awake during a movie to save your life.”

Dad chuckles, and I quickly glare at him before looking back at Shane.

“But there’s so much more I want to know about you. I want to spend every day with you, getting to know you, learning about what you love and hate. I love spending time with you, and when I’m not around you, I wish I were. I meant what I said before—I want to help breathe life into you again because when I get to see you living your life, laughing and smiling and being carefree, it breathes life into me as well.”

Shane reaches out and palms my face, and his thumb wipes away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen. “Kinsley Bryson, will you be my girlfriend?”

I don’t even have to think about it when I choke out a, “Yes,” and then jump into Shane’s arms and kiss him like we’re the only two people in the room.

“Great. Now, can we have pizza?” Scott asks, reaching for the box.

“Sure,” Shane says, carrying me over to the desk and setting me down on it.

“What the hell is this?” Scott asks, holding up a paper. “This might be cheesy, but will you be my girlfriend?” He glances between Shane and me. “Was this your doing?” he asks Shane.

“Yep,” he says with a shrug. “In my defense, Taylor suggested it, and I vetoed it, but then I second-guessed myself and grabbed it in case I needed a grand gesture. That”—he points to the pizza—“was my backup plan.”

I bark out a laugh, totally imagining him and his daughter discussing how he could ask me to be his girlfriend.

“It was either that or I rent a helicopter.” Shane leans in and kisses me. “Thankfully, this worked because I’m not going to lie. I looked up helicopters, and they’re expensive as hell. I’m going to need you to stick with the firefighter trope and stay away from the billionaire ones. I can’t have you getting any ideas.”

He shoots me a playful wink, and butterflies swarm my belly because—holy shit!—I’m Shane’s girlfriend.

“What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?” Shane asks, handing me a slice of pizza.

“I never imagined being anyone’s girlfriend again,” I admit. “I really hope I don’t suck at it.”

“Hey,” he says, “I haven’t had a girlfriend since high school, so if we suck at it, at least we can suck at it together.”

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