“Well, I suggest you uncomplicate it before she finds herself another plus one for my wedding.”
“Over my dead body.” I grumble, and Avery laughs, patting my knee. “I thought she meant going back to the way things were, when I was sleeping in her bed before all this shit, but apparently, she meant back before we agreed to see what this was between us.”
“You just have to talk to her, Daddy.” Avery stands, swaying. I’m up to grab her, but Jake has her from the back, holding her waist.
“Come on, Angel. Time to go to bed,” he coaxes, smiling down at her. She’s blushing and smiling.
“And what are your plans once we get to bed?” she asks. Jake clears his throat and whispers something in her ear that has her spinning around, looking horrified when she sees me standing there. I raise one brow and give her a stern look that makes her yelp. Jake and I laugh as she buries her beet-red face in his chest.
“Have a good night, Pres. And, uh, she’s right. You should go talk to Linzie.” They scurry off toward Jake’s room down the hall, and I’m left standing here feeling like an ass and unsure what my next play should be. I know one thing for certain. If Linzie thinks this thing is over between us, she’s got another thing coming.
As soon as I get my hands on her sexy body, she’ll be coming too.
CHAPTER 1
LINZIE
You would think after three weeks of avoiding the clubhouse and the broody MC President, he’d get the hint I’m done playing his games. But no, he’s shown up at the Blonde Roast every morning. Orders the same thing every time. And when I give him his order the way I think he should have it—cold and black, just like his heart—he laughs and tells me he’ll see me tomorrow.
What’s wrong with him? Why won’t he go away? He’s the one who didn’t react when I offered my apology. Instead, he acted cold and unfeeling, and—fuck him.
I thought what we had meant something. It’s not easy being a widow and a single mom. So, when I found someone with those things in common, having lost his wife and trying to reconnect with his daughter, I thought we could find our way together.
It’s been so nice having someone to reminisce with and not feel guilty. To talk about things we did when we were younger, crazy times with our spouses, and there be no judgement or jealousy. It was so easy and comforting.
It took us some time to cross the line from friendship into something more, though I don’t know how to label what we were now. The way he and his club brothers live their lives, it’s all alittle confusing to me. Some of them have sex on tap with what they call club girls or club whores, depending on who you ask. Some have ol’ ladies, which is a wife or the equivalent thereof.
My husband rode a motorcycle, so I understand the freedom and the desire to ride. I used to love taking long rides with him on the back of his bike. It’s one of the things that drove my son to join the club. He wanted to be like his dad. So, we made an agreement, Trevor and I. He wanted to join the military like his father and ride a motorcycle, and I convinced him he could do one or the other. My heart couldn’t take the worry of his doing both.
In military life, you know there’s always a chance a soldier won’t come home. It’s a sacrifice they themselves and their families agree to. The same, I think, is true for people who ride motorcycles. There’s always a risk. I’ve heard my husband tell our son when he was younger, “It’s notifyou’ll lay your bike down, it’swhen. Because it happens to everyone at some point. Some just make it out more fortunate than others.” Those words have always stuck with me.
After losing my husband in combat, Trevor is all I have left of him. I can’t bear the thought of losing him too, but I also can’t keep him from doing what he loves. So, I asked him to compromise with me. My heart can only handle the stress of one uncertain variable in his life, not two. So, I asked him to choose one.
Thankfully, Trevor understands what it meant for both of us to lose his father, and he chose to live close to home and ride a bike. The motorcycle club was a surprise to me. But he and Gabe both reassured me the club was on the up and up. According to Gabe, the Kings protect their town. They don’t sell drugs or get into trouble with the law. Until they did.
So, when the Feds came into my shop asking questions about the guys and if the townspeople thought they might be capable ofmurder, it sent my mama-radar off the charts. Not only was my son wrapped up in someone else’s crimes, the whole situation felt fishy.
I didn’t trust the agents who came in to question me and my customers. I found their tactics odd and the way they spoke about Gabe and his men, as if they were hardened criminals, yet they produced no actual proof. Despite that, they were federal agents asking around town about the club my son had pledged his loyalty to, and I wanted answers. I needed to know my son would not be taken away from me because of someone else’s reckless decisions.
I didn’t realize until later how wrong I was. I know Gabe’s not the type of man to hurt a woman physically. I also knew better than to question whether his club was involved with all the shit the Feds were asking about. The people of this town adore the Kings. They’re all about family and community, not drugs and trafficking of children.
I thought my apology would have been enough. I thought if I admitted I was wrong, things would go back to the way they were between us. We were just getting started. Officially taking things to the next step when this misunderstanding took place. Gabe was finally starting to accept that we could have a real relationship, without feeling guilty for moving on from our pasts and starting anew.
I guess I was wrong.
He stopped talking to me for weeks. Never reached out to explain or came by for coffee. I cried for days on end, wishing he would just come talk to me. Explain to me why his club means so much to him, and I so little. Was a misunderstanding really worth throwing away a second chance at love? To him, it was. And to me, it hurt.
His guys still came in almost every day and ordered to go for everyone at the shop, but not Gabe. He stayed away. Stayedsilent. No more sweet texts at the start of the day or at night to make sure I was home safely. No more coming in when he knew the cafe was slow, to bring me lunch and steal passionate kisses in the back office. Everything just stopped. It was like we had never happened. So, I started moving on. If he could pretend we never happened, so could I.
So why now? It doesn’t make sense to me. Why is he showing up everywhere, unwanted and unrelenting? Why won’t he give up and just leave me alone? Let me move on and find someone else. Why keep torturing me with text messages and showing up every morning? Making dirty promises that I’ve dreamed about him doing to me for months. Unfortunately for Gabe, he never asked me what I wanted. Never thought about how I’ve felt since he walked away. He just assumed we could pick up where we left off.
After weeks of being ignored, I’ve moved on.
Keep lying to yourself, Linz.
And now, here I am walking into the clubhouse—on his territory, which I have avoided since the day he let me go—to meet the girls so we can go to the mall and pick out our dresses for the wedding.
Please don’t be here.
