Gwen slipped the ring on her left index finger. “It fits. And it’s perfect.”
“I went for subtle. Hope that was okay.”
“Perfect.”
She looked up at him and Lock was reaching for her, knowing what her answer would be from the love in her eyes, when the roof door slammed opened and Blayne walked out. “Hey. They want to start giving out the gifts so…”
Lock didn’t know what Blayne saw or if the friends had some nonverbal communication that passed between them but suddenly Blayne shot forward and grabbed Gwen’s hand.
“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”
“Blayne,” Gwen warned. “Don’t do anything stup—Blayne!”
Lock watched as Blayne dragged his fiancée off the roof.
He charged after them, but the pair moved like lightning, their derby skills allowing Blayne to drag Gwen through the crowd of people in the wild dog house, dodging bodies and kids and stuff with amazing ease.
As Lock made it down the stairs to the first floor, people instantly moving out of his way while the wild dog pups followed behind him as they always did, hoping he’d roar at them, Blayne jumped up on a coffee table in the middle of the room, holding Gwen’s hand up.
“They’re engaged!” the wolfdog screamed out.
There was a long shocked pause, and then the room erupted into hysterical cheers, the wild dogs rushing forward while Ric smiled, the Smith wolves appeared confused, and the Shaw brothers scowled at Lock.
He shrugged at them and said, “At least I’m marrying mine.”
“Bastard,” Mitch snarled.
“Son of a bitch,” Bren snapped before both brothers stormed off.
As the crowd of well-wishers surged, Gwen was suddenly spit out of the group and right into Lock’s arms.
“Are you okay?” He put her on her feet but kept his arms around her.
“Yeah, but…” She motioned to the crowd around Blayne, Ric, and a rather unwell-looking Jess. “Shouldn’t they be congratulating us?”
“That’s usually the protocol, but they’re wild dogs, which automatically translates to weird.”
“I guess, but still.”
Not caring about any of that, Lock lifted Gwen into his arms and held her close, her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.
“So,” he said, rubbing his nose against hers, “I’m assuming when we were on the roof you were about to say yes.”
Gwen laughed. “Yeah. I was about to.” She kissed him. “And yes. I’ll marry you.”
Pulling her closer, Lock went in to kiss Gwen again, but she pulled back.
“You should know that an O’Neill female getting married? That hasn’t happened since the druids ruled Ireland. So you should be prepared for me and Blayne to be doing a little cousin torturing.”
“If you’re going to do that, Mr. Mittens, then we should really have some fun and think about a big wedding.”
Gwen’s face scrunched up in clear disapproval.
“Big wedding? You, who hates being the center of attention and me who hates…everything else?”
“Think about it. Your mother forced to work with mine—who has huge moral issues over large weddings—while your brothers are forced to help them by your mother. In the meantime you, me, Blayne, Ric, Jess, and Dee, if we can actually find her, are in Hawaii. By the time we get back, we’ll be married, and the wedding will only be a nightmare party we have to get through.”
“Diabolical.”
“I am my mother’s son.”
Gwen brushed her hand across his chest and shoulders, before slipping her arms around his neck, and Lock hiked her up a bit so they could look each other in the eye.
Kissing his cheek, Gwen asked, “And, baby?”
Lock sighed as she kissed his neck. “Uh-huh?”
“For the wedding night—” kissed his jaw “—when we’re alone…”
“Uh-huh?” he asked again seconds before he started humming, his eyes crossing as her tongue traced his ear and those damn nails dragged along the corded muscles of his neck.
“You’ll wear the kilt, right?” And Lock burst out laughing, the amazing feline in his arms grinning and snuggling closer, her body fitting perfectly against his. “Ya know? Just for me?”