Page 52 of Dirty Mechanic

“No, I mean, don’t you have to work?”

He leans in and kisses me hard. A claiming. A promise.

“A man’s gotta eat,” he says, voice ragged. “A man’s gotta remember why he wakes up every morning. The car’s ready for the race. And I’m starving.”

But the warmth drains from me all at once.

“Derek, please. If Mike’s racing…if he’s in the race…it’s not safe.”

He freezes.

“What?”

I hesitate, slowly sliding off the car’s hood.

His jaw sets. “Annabelle… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was going to. I am. I just…” I reach for him. “I was scared.”

His expression darkens. “You think I’d let that bastard get on a track with me and walk away?”

“Exactly,” I whisper. “I’m afraid of what you’ll do.”

His arms cross, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “This race means a lot, Honeycrisp. I’ve won before and won’t blow it. I need the money.”

I nod slowly. “Not if I marry you, right?”

“Right,” he says, voice softer now. “But?—”

“Then propose properly,” I tell him, trying to sound bolder than I feel. After all, the divorce will be backdated. “We’ll get married.”

He blinks. “Properly?”

I smile, sudden and real. “Yes. I want a real proposal.”

He groans, low in his throat. “You ambushed me.”

“Maybe,” I tease.

But when he drops to one knee on the garage floor, shirtless, grease-streaked, and utterly devastating, I stop breathing. Because he’s serious. And I’m the one being ambushed.

From his back pocket, he pulls a small box. The lid flips open, and my heart stumbles.

Inside is a pink diamond, set in a halo of smaller stones shaped into an apple blossom.

I gasp. “Where did you get that?”

I’m standing there in nothing but my bra, panties, and flip-flops on a grease-streaked floor, and somehow I feel like I’m both in a fairytale and a prison break.

Joy and terror twist in my chest.

“I had it made last year,” he says, voice thick. “Back when I thought maybe… Someday.”

“Derek,” I whisper, fingers trembling against my lips.

He takes my hand in his calloused one, eyes never leaving mine. “Annabelle Waters, you took me out of my darkest days and made every day bright. You already know how hard I love you, so please”—his voice cracks, just slightly— “let me love you for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?”

The ring glitters like a promise. But all I can think is: what if I can’t give him what he needs? What if forever is just another word for cage?