Page 117 of Savage Saint

Her eyes fill, then a slow, sweet smile curls at her lips. “I love you, too.”

“That means I’m keeping you. No take-backs.”

“An endless borrow?”

“The only borrower.”

Genesis looks at me, head tilted slightly as a few tears fall. “You know loving me means you’ll have to meet my parents? Probably fix something my father broke.”

“I already do that.” At my shrug, I get a look. A you better explain, and quickly kind of look. “Your father knew my father, and I’ve looked after his car for years now. I’m his free mechanic.”

“The fuck…”

“You didn’t know?”

“But he said…and bad men…”

“To stay away? Not happening.” I kiss her forehead, adjusting my grip as I walk us down the stairs. One of my hands is in her hair now, guiding her head down to my shoulder while I play with the strands. “He’s stubborn, but I’m worse. You’ll see.”

“I trust you, Santos.”

“And I’ve got you, Pocket Doc. Always.”

Her head settles over my heart, and I know I’d do anything for this woman.

That I’ll protect her dreams, her heart, and her smile.

She’s my home.

My family.

EPILOGUE #1

GENESIS

He’s really doing this.

He has the audacity to play the doting, innocent man.

The man I love is anything but.

Sneaky. Possessive. Mine.

The clubhouse is packed today, and we’re having a cookout, my family and friends included. That means my parents. My mother I’ve never been worried about. She wants grandkids, at least three, she says, but my father…

He’s been bought by beer, food, and free labor of the mechanic kind.

The same man who talked about those men and being bad for his daughter is smiling at me with his thumbs up.

Traitor. See who helps you the next time you break the printer.

“Marry me, Genesis.” Three words. Simple and direct, so him. They tell me he loves me, wants to build a life with me—accepts my quirks—and needs me. That Santos “Saint” De La Cruz chose this crazy, mouthy nurse with little to no filter, much less fear of him or what he is.

It’s not the first time.

“I can’t.” My response is just as direct, and if he’s surprised, Santos doesn’t show it. He simply stares at me; the ring on his pinky with the pretty purple stone looks ridiculous on my over-six-foot biker.

Bet he’s thinking about sliding the ring on my finger anyway…