Remi rolls her eyes. “Trenton begged me to come visit him at work tonight. My guess is he wants me to participate in the pageant one day. ‘A true biker girl competing against the ones who just look pretty on a bike.’”
“I can almost hear Trenton saying that.” I laugh and shake my head, amused, not at all taking offense. After all, Remi is legit. I just warm up the passenger seat really well.
“He is out of his damn mind,” Remi says. “I am not cut out for that kind of thing.” She gives me a good look over. “You definitely are.”
I might as well be naked for what little of my body this bathing suit covers. “Eh. First timer. Difference between Revelry and Hell for Leather is that HFL doesn’t make suggestions.”
Remi clenches her teeth together in an expression she makes often — her iconic grimace. I know she wants to ask questions. After all, we are somewhat similar. Headstrong. Opinionated. Unshakable. Her experience with a violent guy went south, though, and I have no intention of letting things get that far. The first time one of my men raises a hand to me will be their last. I refuse to stick around for that shit. Not that domestic violence victims always have a choice or an easy out.
To avoid the questions whirling in her mind and stop my own from forming, I change the topic. “Speaking of having your number. Coyote, the one who drives the Duc like you? Tall drink of water, dark hair with yummy salt and pepper streaks.” Remi glances over her shoulder, Coty gives her a head tilt. “Pretty sure he thought we were banging.” That comment earns me a bark of laughter. “He called you from my phone the other day…”
Her eyebrows flatten. “Lace…” she warns, cluing in on the telltale behavior of a potential psychopath.
“Remi…” I warn back with a light chuckle.
She lifts her hands in a placating gesture, extending an offer of support with a wordless glare. A throat clearing too close for comfort, considering the conversation, nearby pulls us a few inches apart from each other. Our attention swings to the culprit.
Bright copper eyes and that strawberry-blond hair I love pops into my sightline. I squee like a schoolgirl. “Bae!” Distracted by conversation and with so many bikes around, engines rumbling, I missed his grand entrance.
Vee is several paces behind him. He and I share a quick glance, having not so much as seen each other since he took advantage of my availability last night. Wanting to keep up with the pretense that everything went swimmingly, I return my focus back to Bae.
“Ladies.” Baylor tilts his head and gives us both a sweet smile. He is drooping to one side a little, and that singular tell solidifies my prior assumption; Bae is the one who every HFL member was worried about last night. Thank the Universe he seems okay.
Even despite being warned, I info-gather in the sneakiest way possible. “D-did you ride here?” I ask. “With the pain you are in?” I have no damn idea where he is hurt, but I do know which side according to his stance, so I scan him from head to toe on that side.
His eyes flash me a warning. Nailed it. I keep my eyebrows curved inward, pretending like he didn’t just chastise me with a single look. Still unsure just how much I know, he steps forward, wraps an arm around my shoulders — the one on the uninjured side of his body — and gives me a peck on the temple. “I did. Vee was on my ass the entire time. No amount of pain would keep me from watching you walk the stage, though.”
I turn to introduce Remi but am taken aback by her wide eyes and blanched cheeks. She retreats a step. I tilt my head at her and try introducing them anyway. “Remi, this is Bae and Vee.”
She blinks repeatedly, shakes her head, and chuckles lightly before thrusting her hand out to Vee first, then Bae. “Sorry, you look a lot like my e—an acquaintance. Very nice to meet you, though.”
I know exactly who she is referring to. Their similarities are definitely uncanny. Or maybe just their hair color. That unique, golden, strawberry-blond.
Something flashes in Baylor’s eyes — a similar recognition? I open up my mouth to ask, but this time their warnings act as a zipper to my lips. Bae accepts her hand and gives it a kind squeeze.
Seems the Universe is having a grand time this week. All these odd coincidences popping up.
During the strange introduction, our small group grows by one more. Hayes, the brains of the Revelry crew, brushes against Remi, pushing up his glasses with the nudge of a knuckle. “Lace. Bay. Vee.” He nods at each of us. Bae holds out a fist, and the two men bump knuckles, their acquaintance going back to high school.
Zane and Kio step up, joining the fun. Hayes offers them a similar greeting before spotlighting Zane. “New guy?” he asks, gaze tracking down to the prospect patch on his jacket. The one Chaz was supposed to remove. Guess he got distracted.
Kio slaps Zane on the back hard, and Zane pitches forward, unexpecting the roughness. “Just weaned from the tit.” Kio beams.
Remi and I both grimace, but that grimace quickly turns into tight-lipped repressed smiles when Zane stares at the ground and rubs the back of his neck.
A jarring announcement comes over the loudspeaker, busting through the uncomfortable moment. The order of events, beginning with the “sexiest biannual pageant of the year.”
I clap my hands together once and bring them, cupped, to my chest, waggling my eyebrows at Remi. “Looks like I have just enough time for one more photo opp!”
Hayes turns his attention away from Zane to us, a huge grin forming on his face. “Yeah, Remi… photo opp time,” he singsongs.
Remi groans. I tug on her arm. She falls into step, and we both approach her bike. “Just get on,” I instruct. She slings her leg over and settles in, looking less than thrilled. Crow comes up just in time for the fun, too. Broaching the local crowds usually takes him a little longer what with all the bicep grabbing and shoulder pats that come with being a leader.
“Ah, shit…” Crow stands beside Hayes, simultaneously fumbling to get out his phone. “You better not ruin her, Lace. This is only the start.”
Coty finally stops being such a loner and moves away from his bike, choosing to stand beside Vee for the excitement. Always on high alert, his eyes slant toward Crow. Clearly he is less than thrilled that his arch nemesis — okay, totally over exaggerating, everyone is his nemesis — will now have a sexy picture of me with Remi on his phone. Wanking material? Maybe.
“No harm in a picture, right?” I coo, knowing damn well pictures can be very harmful, especially since they memorialize moments.