Page 69 of Zen's Crash

His eyes are practically sparkling with happiness. “You got that right, beautiful.”

I quickly unwrap the package that I already suspect is a helmet to find it’s an exceptionally nice, jet-black one with electronic gaming imagery and my name printed across the back.

I look it over, totally awed. Clutching it to my chest, I gaze up at him. “I love it, Zen. Who in the world designed it? It’s got imagery from all my favorite games.”

Looking embarrassed, he admits, “I hand-sketched the design—albeit poorly—and gave it to a guy who custom-designs helmets. He took my idea and ran with it.”

“I love that it was all your idea. It came out nice, and I’ll wear it proudly.”

A smile ghosts across his face. “I know I’m supposed to say something clever like, ‘You bet your sweet ass you’ll wear it proudly,’ but I don’t feel much like cosplaying an asshat today.”

I laugh at his antics. We have the same sense of humor. “I love you—and not just because of your hot body, cool tats, and amazing sense of humor.”

“Hang onto that idea. We’ve got someplace to be.” We put on our helmets, and he helps me onto his bike before getting on himself. When my arms are wrapped around his waist and we’re flying down the interstate, I relax into the moment. I officially belong to Zen now, and he belongs to me.

The men who wanted to kill me and take money I didn’t even know I had are safely behind bars. I’m not even worried about the money. Zen was right about me never knowing real need. My dad made sure I was well provided for, and left me with a fat insurance policy. It’s enough to last a lifetime if I’m prudent.

After we’ve been on the road for twenty minutes, Zen pulls into the parking lot of a jewelry store. I get that he’s trying to make the day I got my property cut special, and I love him for that. But I wonder what he’s taking me here for. If he thinks he needs to buy me nice jewelry to make me happy, he’s mistaken. He’s given me more than money can buy. I decide if he does pick anything out then I’ll pay for it myself. Zen’s a hardworking man—no need for him to pay for everything alone.

However, when we walk in, and he heads straight to the engagement rings my heart starts beating wildly. Of everything I imagined happening today, this was not even in the far corners of my mind.

I must be wide-eyed because Zen tugs me close. “Are you game for looking at rings today? Getting a ring doesn’t mean we’re engaged if you think it’s too soon. I just want to get a feel for what you like.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Yeah, I’m good. I should have known this wasn’t my third gift.”

“It could be, if you find the ring of your dreams.”

I hesitate to tell him, “I’ve never dreamed of a ring, a proposal, or getting married. All those things weren’t a possibility until I met you. We moved around so often, relationships never really worked out for me in real life.”

“I can see why most of your friends were online. Now, let’s have a look. It’s time to let yourself dream of a better life, sweetness.”

I nod, letting my anxiety drift away. I want this. I want Zen, and this is the perfect way to put all this garbage behind us and move forward with a clean slate.

“Mr. Dillon,” the man behind the counter greets him by his proper name, rather than by his club name. “I’ve reserved the entire morning for you and Ms. Roderick and pulled out every ring we have in-house for your inspection.”

“Thanks, Gregory. I appreciate it.”

“I believe you wanted to see our selection of black diamonds set in platinum.”

Zen glances at me. “What do you think of black diamonds? I noticed you wear a lot of black stones.”

“That sounds amazing,” I tell him, my excitement ratcheting up.

Gregory slides a tray in front of us, “I think you’re going to be pleased with our select—”

My eyes zero in on the most gorgeous ring I’ve ever seen. “I want the heart-shaped one.”

Zen chokes out a laugh. “She means she wants to see that one first.”

My shaking hand comes out to take it from Gregory, and I slide it onto my finger. Moving my hand back and forth, I watch it sparkle in the overhead lights. “No,” I tell Zen. “What I mean is, this is my ring.”

“It’s the first one you looked at, Lexi.” He doesn’t say it in a complaining tone—more like a shocked one.

Gregory chuckles. “I’m not surprised. This is one of the best rings in our stock at the moment. Your fiancée has exceptionally good taste.”

“What do you mean by one of the best rings in the store?” Zen asks.

I don’t care what they’re talking about. I want this ring. If Zen won’t get it for me, I’ll buy it for myself and wear it on my right hand. From the corner of my eye, I can see Gregory writing something on a slip of paper, and Zen gasps.

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