Then comes my demise; I can feel him, and he’s nowhere near me. My gaze finds powerful thighs, still the size of small tree trunks like I remember. Surprising, too, after the attack Princess had told me about. I figured they’d be skinny from the damage, hidden away by jeans, but that’s clearly not the case.
He turns around to grab something off his bike and the deep brown, shoulder length waves I loved running my fingers through are gone. In their place are long dreads, unruly but neat in a sense. And sure enough, a pair of drummer sticks stuck in one of his back pockets. How did I never notice them before?
His shirt sleeves are cut. Big gaping holes show off his arms that’ve only gotten larger with time. He’s a beast, and I missed that body something fierce. The only man I didn’t faze out when he took my body. I was present with him, I felt everything, I wanted everything.
“Shit,” Princess whispers beside me. “I wasn’t expecting them until a little later.”
I blow out another breath. “How about that beer now?” I ask, watching Night light up a cigarette. That hasn’t changed either. I can still smell him—leather, smoke, and spice with a touch of exhaust and wind mixed in. The guys chuckle beside him and his lips tip at the corners, always a broody bastard. Being that hot shouldn’t be allowed on an asshole.
“Good idea.”
One thing that didn’t escape my perusal is that he was alone on his bike. Just as I was hoping, too, whether I want to admit it or not.
“Come on.” She takes off toward a few large tubs filled with ice and various beverages. “We have some really good moonshine that we get from Alabama, wanna do a shot?”
“No, it’ll put me on my ass. Maybe later after I’ve eaten and absolutely no tequila.” She laughs, knowing tequila turns me into a hellion.
I check on Maverick as we walk, but he’s content surrounded by toys, a juice box, and a couple small kids. I’m glad he’s busy; it’ll wear him out for a nap later. At this rate, I’ll most likely need one, too; my nerves are fried already.
She cracks open a Smirnoff for herself and hands me a Bud Light. It’s cold and refreshing. I don’t miss drinking itself, just hanging out with friends and not caring about anything.
“We can set up the food. I’m sure everyone’s getting hungry by now.”
“Is this what you always do?”
“What? Set up the tables?”
“Yeah, just take care of everyone and help take care of the club?”
“Yeah, this is what an ol’ lady does, especially since Vike is the President. It puts more on me.”
“You like it?”
“I love it. I understand now why my mom was so lost when my dad started keeping her away from the club. They become your family, and this,” she waves around her, “becomes your whole life.”
“I know you’re involved with stuff, from the calls and your visits, but I didn’t know it was like this. It reminds me more of a reunion than a rowdy barbecue.”
“They have their moments, trust me. Today is a family event. They know it’s to celebrate me and Viking, so they’ll tone it down for me and the families visiting.”
I catch her wrist, so she pauses and meets my gaze. “I want you to know, I truly am happy for you. I always wanted you to find your place and be happy.”
Her grin’s a little shaky as she pulls me in for a hug, “Thanks, B. Hopefully, someday you have it too.”
“I hope so.” It leaves me on a whisper, but it’s true. It never hit me so hard as it has in this moment.
I want this.
Maybe not being a Prez’s ol’ lady, but the sense of family, of belonging, of purpose. I love being a mom, but I want Maverick to grow up surrounded by people who love him, not just a few, but many. I want him to have a family, people who love him that I never had.
A few bikers stand around in the kitchen, no doubt quietly speaking about business of some sort. They glance at us briefly as we unintentionally interrupt them.
“Hey, Torch, will you carry that potato salad for me?” Princess requests as she opens the fridge door and gestures to the top shelf.
“You got it, boss.” He grabs the massive plastic bowl that most likely weighs fifty pounds knowing Princess.
He’s new to me. She's told me about the guys, but I haven’t seen a lot of them before. Her description of him was right. He reminds me of the Terminator—menacing, but hot. Torch is supposed to be one of Viking’s oldest friends, and a biker around here called Blaze is supposed to be his cousin. I haven’t seen him yet, though.
“Thanks. Bethany, will you get the paper plates and forks?”