I chuckle, appreciating her ability to lighten the moment. "Beyond that, yes. Though I'm certainly not opposed to more of that too."
She grows serious again. "I want honesty. I want partnership. I want someone who sees me for who I am and values that, not despite my strength but because of it." Her hand finds mine, fingers intertwining. "I think you could be that person. I think we could build something real. But I don't want to be a fantasy you're chasing, or a reason you change your life only to resent later."
Her wisdom strikes me again. This woman sees so clearly, cuts through pretense and bravado to the heart of things.
"I've never been good with pretty words or romantic promises," I tell her, bringing our joined hands to my lips. "But I know what feels right, what feels true. And this—you, us, the possibility of building something here—feels more right than anything has in a long time."
“Okay then. Let's try. But step by step, not all at once. You handle Dylan, talk to your president about the possibility of expansion, see if it's even viable. I'll hold off on the university application, keep my options open."
Her practicality makes me smile. "Always the planner."
"Someone has to be," she teases. "I'm guessing the Iron & Blood MC doesn't run on impulsive decisions and hope."
"You'd be surprised," I reply, thinking of some of the club's more colorful episodes. "But point taken. We do this smart, strategic."
"And in the meantime?" she asks, her body shifting subtly against mine in a way that rekindles the heat between us.
"In the meantime," I murmur, pulling her closer, "we make the most of the time we have now."
Her lips find mine in a kiss that promises more, but before we can get carried away again, the sound of a door opening down the hall freezes us both.
"Shit," Katty whispers, eyes wide. "Lilly's up."
We scramble for our clothes, trying to dress with minimal noise and maximum speed. I've just pulled on my jeans and Katty has wrapped herself in a throw blanket when Lilly appears in the doorway, hair mussed from sleep.
She takes one look at us. Katty's flushed face, my bare chest, the scattered clothing, and breaks into a knowing grin.
"Well, well," she says, leaning against the doorframe. "Looks like you two found a way to pass the time after all."
"Lilly," I warn, but there's no real heat behind it. I can't find it in me to be embarrassed, not when what happened between Katty and me feels so significant.
"Don't 'Lilly' me," my sister laughs. "I knew it from the moment you two met at the fair. The way you looked at each other... it was just a matter of time."
Katty pulls the blanket tighter around herself, but she's smiling too. "How about you put on some coffee while your brother and I get dressed, and then we can all talk like civilized adults?"
"Fine, fine," Lilly agrees, turning toward the kitchen. "But just so you know, I'm totally okay with this. More than okay. Actually, it's kind of perfect."
After she disappears into the kitchen, Katty and I exchange a look that turns into shared laughter—quiet, intimate, a release of tension and a celebration of possibility.
"She's never going to let us live this down," I observe, pulling on my shirt.
"Probably not," Katty agrees, gathering her scattered clothing. "But I think we can handle it."
We dress quickly, stealing kisses between articles of clothing, reluctant to break the connection we've established. When we're finally presentable, Katty pauses before we join Lilly in the kitchen.
"Just so you know," she says, looking up at me with those clear, direct eyes, "whatever happens with the club, with Dylan, with all of it. I'm glad you came to Sweetheart County. I'm glad we found each other."
I draw her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Me too. And I'm not letting go easily."
"Good," she says simply. "Because neither am I."
Three Months Later
The sign above the garage reads "Iron & Heart Auto Repair," fresh paint gleaming in the autumn sunshine. Below it, the doors stand open to reveal a busy shop floor where two mechanics work on vehicles ranging from family sedans to custom motorcycles.
I stand across the street, watching as Hammer explains a repair to an elderly woman who nods at his patient breakdown of costs and options. Behind them, Thunder jacks up a pickup truck.
The bell over the office door chimes, and Katty emerges, a stack of newly printed flyers in her hands advertising our grand opening celebration next weekend. She spots me and waves, her smile still enough to make my heart skip even after months of waking up beside her.
