Page 115 of White Raven (Nevermore Duet #2)

The jeweler in Denver was an elderly man that knew his shit…

and knew his potential clients better. Brent had told him about the how and why he’d never picked a ring before, and about a week later, he’d called him back in to look at about ten possible options.

The way it had made him feel when his eyes landed on the one, made him want to be a pussy and cry.

He didn’t. But it set off so many emotions just thinking about how much Conrad Stratford had stolen from him—his own son—and how proud his mother would have been to see him so happy with Wren Vintorri…

with everything they were accomplishing in this city.

Brent’s office, while scaled down, was changing lives with the work he’d thrown his soul into.

He battled it out with every murky insurance company…

every sorry ass doctor. Today he tackled and beat his first pharmaceutical company, all for the sake of patients like his mother…

like Annie, that didn’t, and wouldn’t, have the luxury of Sarah’s blood to fix their problems. He’d become an advocate for the sick, and he’d done every bit of it for free.

The reward was tremendous. He felt light enough to walk on air these days, and coming home to Wren was the cherry on top.

Her studio was sectioned off into three different parts.

Everything she loved, all built into one trendy space.

The front was a gallery showcasing Nell’s work.

To the far side, was a sick-looking tattoo parlor, with a single chair— hers .

She wanted to keep Nell’s spirit present and chose a closed-off part of the building in the back for her studio, and her workspace restoring new pieces that Matthew fished out from around the world.

Matty was an expert in finding really neat shit.

He was a gifted art history major and could sell water to a fish.

His customer service, which he loved to call his ‘phone sex voice’, was payment enough for what he lacked in mathematical genius.

Brent didn’t mind picking that responsibility up and keeping the books for Wren when he wasn’t taking on new cases.

Aside from it being a nice distraction from the legal clinic, it often got rewarded in sexual favors.

“Why do you ask? Are you about to earn yourself a foot in your ass? Cause this has been a really good day, and if it’s that…I’d rather you just wait for like…ever.”

“Just wanna hear you say it, that’s all.” He smiled at her, and even if she did pretend to enjoy beating him, that look in her eyes always reminded him that it was real. Wren swallowed down another mouthful.

“I love you, bitch-boy.”

They kept their stare while they raised their burgers back to their mouths, and he winked at her. “I won’t tell anybody.”

“Good…fucker.”

Yeah…he was gonna ask her tonight.

Time to rein in Leigh’s help, call in a favor at the station.

He’d planned this moment for months. Now he just needed to find the right words to ask Wren Vintorri a question that would go to one extreme or the other.

She’d either make him the happiest man in the world—or, he’d finally strike completely out, and she’d leave him on his knee— in front of Denver’s biggest bus .

It was well past eight, and Wren’s fingertips were numb from the vibration of the tattoo gun—even after a solid half hour since her client left.

Matty had gone home over an hour ago, and it was safe to say she was beyond tired.

The smell of rubbing alcohol made her nose burn as she sprayed it over the leather chair and wiped down every inch of it.

Her phone buzzed on the worktable on the other side of the studio.

“Damn it,” she huffed, hurrying over. It was Leigh. “If you’ve slit his pretty-boy throat, don’t tell me about it. The only other friends I have are cops or worse.”

“Cute, but I wouldn’t have had the chance. I tried calling him to let him know I needed to be picked up at the bus station, not the airport. I’ve been stuck here for almost two hours, dude.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Wren pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to reel in her attitude. “Now I wanna slit his throat.”

“Well can you guys figure it out after you come get me? I’m starving.”

“Sit tight. I’ll be there in like twenty minutes. I gotta lock up the shop.”

Hanging up, she didn’t bother trying to call Brent yet.

It’d be an effort not to rip him a new asshole, even if he had a good reason for not picking up his phone or doing something as simple as retrieving somebody from a terminal.

Better yet…she’d wait until he showed up at the house, tail tucked, and staring down two women that were less than likely to not play Jack the Ripper on his sanity.

The bus station was busy.

She’d already thrown up her middle finger to an old lady, and some douche that tried to pull into the parking spot she’d been waiting on. Now it was a matter of keeping her temper in check while she looked for a head full of pink hair.

“Hey, you here?”

“Tell me again why you took a bus instead of an airplane? Grabbing you like a drive-thru would have been exponentially easier than this, Leigh. Jesus.”

“It was cheaper. And on the ground. Where you at? I’ll come find you.”

Wren looked around, trying to get a good description as a big bus passed by. She stopped dead when she saw Brent waving her down across the loading lot.

“Oh, this motherfucker…I’m at the ticket booth in the lobby. Hurry up, cause I’m about to commit murder.”

Brent stepped off the curb, clearly not catching her growing frustration, and she was just about to embarrass him publicly as an oncoming bus screeched its tires while another one sped by from the other direction, obstructing her view of him completely. Her heart fucking stopped .

“Ahhhh! Brent! ”

Holy shit…this didn’t actually just happen.

It was like moving in slow motion. Like trudging through deep water.

That sickening emotion she’d warred off for so long was about to be the one thing that finished her off.

All the times she’d told him she’d wished he was a speed bump, and that he’d get hit by a bus…

she never thought in a fucking lifetime that it’d actually happen.

Wren sprinted towards the lot, pushing past several shocked onlookers as the passing bus nearly cleared the lane. She never meant it. She never—

The taillights gave way, and instead of his bloody body lying on the concrete…Brent knelt on one knee in front of the other bus…with a black box in his hand and a knowing smile on his face. She stood frozen at the curb, wide-eyed and shaken.

“You just gonna leave him there? I’m still hungry.”

Leigh stood beside her, right next to her luggage—with airport tags on them.

“You—you didn’t take the damn bus,” Wren observed, voice hoarse.

“Nope.” Leigh gave her a vicious smile and nudged her. “Go.”

Oh, my God…Oh, my God…Oh, my God…

The bus driver leaned over his steering wheel with a grin, while all his passengers looked on, taking videos with their phones as Wren crept forward, crossing the bus lane.

“I got a hundred bucks saying you drove that yellow soup can up here with enough fury to end my life,” Brent grinned, waiting patiently. “You gonna get on that bus and push the gas?”

“Still deciding,” Wren stuttered, closing in on him.

“Well before you do…there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

Her heart pounded, and her cheeks felt like they were on fire.

She glanced up at the driver, who nodded and smiled.

He’d planned all of this. Everybody around her was in on it.

Part of her wished Sarah was here for this moment…

but the other part felt heavy about the last time he’d proposed to someone.

“Brent, I—you’re—”

“In complete control. No second guessing. No schemes. Just me. And you…and the bus.” He opened the box, and the diamond gleamed in the headlight.

“I know this is scary. Probly cringe…and you’re about to hold up a finger at me.

But I hope it’s the one on your left hand.

I’ve done this once already, and I knew it wasn’t the right thing, Wren.

I know better this time. I told you earlier that I just needed to hear you say it. ”

Her eyes stung, and she swiped a finger across her cheek. “You said you wouldn’t tell anybody, asshole.”

“I didn’t break any promises.”

She took a hard look at him. His ripped jeans…

his bare knee pressed to the asphalt. The hoodie with busted piano keys.

The glossy sheen of his hair as it fell over his brow.

Thinking back to every argument they’d had, and every time she wanted to punch him in the face.

Did she want this for the rest of her life?

Yes…

“Fine.”

Brent side-smiled and took the ring out of the box. “I love you. Make me the happiest speed bump, and let me be your bitch forever?”

Wren busted out laughing and shook her head as she held her left hand out. “Jesus, Brent.” Her ring finger jutted out and she held it up. “First warning.”

“That a yes, then?” The fit was perfect as it slid onto her finger, and he slowly stood.

Cue the waterworks…damn it.

“Yes, stupid,” Wren sniffled, wrapping her arms around his neck as he lifted her up and kissed her.