Page 124 of Mensa's Match

After Wyatt quietly closed the door behind him, I closed my eyes.

My entire body jerked when Mensa said, “We’re gonna last, Blume because you’re right. You’re the one for me, too. Any relationship is a two-way street. Shit starts going bad, I’ll put in the work to make that right again.”

I smiled at him. “I love you so much. As much as I love having you here, you should sleep in a real bed.”

He widened his eyes. “Not a fuckin’ chance. I heard him say you might get discharged tomorrow. If that happens, I want to get you out of here as soon as possible.”

EPILOGUE

Mostly Legal

Mensa

“I feel so freenow that I’m out of that arm sling,” Whitney said, hanging her keys on the hook by the garage door.

Mensa pulled a foil tray from the refrigerator. “Did you ask your therapist about that? I think they took you out of it too soon.”

She leaned her good shoulder against the kitchen doorway. “Yes, Kenneth. I asked twice just to put your mind at ease. Is that tray full of lumpia?”

He shook his head. “Not as far as you know.”

She shot him a cute angry pout. “They won’t miss just one.”

He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. “You have one, then I’m having one, and two missing lumpia are much more obvious than just one.”

“Too bad. And I thought this bash was the biggest one of the year because you open it up to so many people. Nobody’s gonna care. Someone snoozes, they lose.”

“We have to put them in the oven at the clubhouse to reheat them. You aren’t eating cold lumpia, woman.”

She pushed up on her toes and whispered. “That’s why God made microwaves.”

He kissed her quick. “We don’t have time for that, woman. If you want to wear something different for the Fourth of July party, then you need to change.”

She stepped back, glanced down at herself, and back to him. “Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?”

She was wearing a pair of high-cut denim shorts and the sleeveless red blouse she wore at Twisted Talons that fateful night. He shook his head. “Not at all, but other women…”

She put her hand on his chest. “I don’t care about other women, Mensa. Are we staying at the clubhouse?”

He nodded.

“Then I have to pack a bag with fresh clothes.”

“Hurry up, babe. This party’s important.”

Whitney stared at the Riot brothers gathered around the grill. “I’m not sure what surprises me more. The fact there’s a sneaky back gate to get in here, or that there are far more people here than I expected.”

Mensa moved in front of her and grabbed her hands. “I should have had your cut ordered—”

“Mensa—”

He shook his head. “I know you don’t like the idea, Whit.”

“It isn’t that I don’t like the idea.”

“Then what is it?”

She stared at him so long he expected her to keep quiet. Then she muttered, “It’s that I don’t get to claimyouthe same way.”

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