I laugh, tension melting.
Ivy appears next, her growing bump leading the way, wearing a black bodycon dress, combat boots, and a smudge of ink on her forearm that says she either came straight from the tattoo shop or got into something with her trio at home.
“Oh hiiii,” she croons, giving me a once-over. “Miss Sunridge is out tonight.”
Olivia slides in on her other side, softer in a floral blouse and jeans, but her eyes are sharp, taking in everything.
“You look amazing,” she says simply. “Boone’s gonna implode.”
“I, no,” I protest. “We’re not…”
“Mmhmm,” Ivy says, patting my arm. “Tell that to the way he looks at you like you’re the first warm day after winter.”
My cheeks ignite. “I hate all of you.”
“You love us,” Sloane corrects. “Now, drink.”
Arlo sets a cocktail in front of me. It’s pale yellow with a sugared rim and a twist of lemon peel.
“Lemon drop,” he says. “With extra courage.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
The Hollow pulses around us. Laughter, music, clinking glasses, the low roar of conversation. Dottie is holding court at a corner table, scribbling notes in a tiny notebook. Lani breezes in with a tray of takeout cups from Coyote Cup, dropping one infront of Arlo with a wink. Bill Granger sits at the bar muttering about “damn kids” while clearly enjoying every second.
The atmosphere only shifts when the door to the bar swings open once more.
“Ooh, that must be them…!” Ivy hisses.
I follow her eye line to see who she’s talking about.
Three men.
The first is tall and broad-shouldered, dark hair making his soft brown eyes stand out, leather jacket worn in all the right places.
His gaze sweeps the room, sharp and assessing, landing briefly on each cluster of people, cataloging exits, threats, opportunities. There’s a tightness coiled in him. A quiet intensity that doesn’t need volume to be felt.
The second is slightly shorter, muscle packed onto his frame like it’s his favorite hobby. He has dark blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He laughs at something the third one says, head tipped back, easy and loud.
The third one has dark hair, shaved on the sides, and a scar at the corner of his mouth. His dark eyes take everything in.
They are all wearing patches on their jackets and vests. Crescent Hollow MC. The emblem is a stylized crescent moon and a coiled snake.
Beside me, Sloane exhales. “Okay, wow. Who is that, Ivy?”
“They might be buying The Hollow. Mitchell told me. Ryder Callahan, Finn Reilly, and Zane Morgan.”
Olivia lets out a low whistle. “Holy hell. Things are about to getinterestingaround here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Boone
I lieto myself all damn night.
Tell myself I’m not thinking about the way Delaney looked when she walked out the door earlier.
Tell myself I’m not imagining things I shouldn’t imagine.
