Page 36 of Caught
“It’s not a big deal,” he assured her. “Here, let’s walk.”
“Did someone hit it?” she asked as they entered the garage.
“Nope.”
His tone of voice didn’t sound like there was an issue. It sounded more like a surprise.
“Ryan, what did you do?”
He did that locking his lips and throwing away the key routine again, and she shook her head.
Just then, the valet pulled up. Not in the Volvo, but in a British racing green bug-eyed Sprite.
She stared at the car. Then at Ryan. Then at the car.
The valet left it running and hopped out.
“Is that—?”
“Grover’s car? Yep. Well, it’s your car now.”
“You stole Grover’s car?”
“Yes, Leilah. I, a member of the Bars of Virginia, New York, and the District of Columbia, stole a dead man’s car. No. I bought it from his estate.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“Why?”
“Because you said it was a work of art. Because you love cars. And because I felt like a ring was too small of gesture for what I want to say.”
Her mind raced. Her heart pounded. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I know this seems fast, but it’s not. I’ve known you nearly my entire life. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Are you proposing to me with a bug-eyed Sprite?”
He paused before answering. “Now, you’re making it sound like a bad idea. It seemed like such a good idea last night.”
“That’s not an answer. Are you asking me to marry you?”
He held her gaze. “Yes.”
“Then ask me.”
“What?”
“Ask me.” She stomped her foot impatiently.
“Okay, Sparky, will you marry me?”
“Yes!” she shouted. Her voice echoed off the garage walls. “Yes!” she repeated. “I love you, Ryan Hayes. I’ve loved you for years.”
He swept her into his arms and covered her mouth with kisses. When she caught her breath, she said, “Well, get in.”
He put her down gently, then folded his long legs and settled into the passenger seat while she ran around to the driver’s side.
