But what I saw made me suck in breath.
Snap was out there.
Now talking in a close-huddle, heads-bent way with Tack andHop while Lanie and Tyra drifted toward the truck and SUV in our driveway,Snap’s bike at the curb.
He was out there.
Shy was tall, dark and lanky.
Beck was tall, dark and stocky.
Snap was blond, shorter than both Shy and Beck, (taller thanme), with an athletic build that was both powerful and lean.He had thickeyebrows darker than his hair and a blond beard that was dark under his jaws,light everywhere else, clipped short and groomed, mostly, but long at the chin.
His hair came down to his shoulders and he almost alwayswore it in a messy bun at the back, but if he kept it down, he slicked it backwith something so it stayed out of his face.
He had amazing cheekbones, a beautiful lower lip, andgorgeous, strong white teeth that shone bright against skin that was always tandue to his ride being a bike.
All that was fantastic.
But for me with Snap it was the eyes.
His eyes reminded me of a husky dog’s eyes.If you lookedclosely enough (and until recently I hadn’t allowed myself to pay attention tothe fact that I did…a lot), they weren’t the light blue that they seemed to beat a glance.
Most of the iris was almost like snow and the blue cast theyhadcamefrom a rim of sky at the edge of the irisand the edge of the pupil, both that bled into the white.
I’d never seen eyes like Snapper’s.
You would think that snow would put you in a deep freeze buthe’d never, not once, not even for an instant, given me anything cold.
He was all warm for me.
It was a hair down day for Everett “Snapper” Kavanaugh,slicked back, whatever he used making the light blond seem darker.
It was also an intent day, I could tell by the serious lookon his face while he was listening to Tack speak.
He wasn’t going to invade my space because I’d kicked himout of my hospital room (God, that wassoSnapper).
But he wasn’t waiting even for a phone call to learn how Iwas.He was getting a briefing on me.Everything.From how I looked to how Iheld myself to how I behaved to how I reacted to what they’d offered me (or,more accurately, what I’d been forced to accept).
You’regonnabe in my life andI’mgonnabe in yours.Bank on it.
“Is that him?”Mom whispered from beside me, standing soclose our arms brushed.
She knew everything.Everything about everything.Around thetime I turned seventeen, she started the long process of morphing from just mymom, to my mom and sometimes friend, to my friend and sometimes mom, to my bestfriend who was also the precious being who had birthed me.
“That’s him,” I whispered back.
He nodded and I knew by the movements of his body he wasgoing to disconnect, so I quickly moved out of the window, doing it watchingand seeing his head turning my way.
Standing out of sight, thus losing sight of Snapper beforehe caught sight of me, I watched my mother wave at him.
“Mom!”I hissed.
“He’s really cute,” she said.
He was.He was really cute in a hot-guy, badass biker kindof way.Take off the leather cut, trim his hair, shave his beard, and he’d bethe boy next door.
The boy next door you were itching to get in your bed andwould sell your soul to earn the honor of having his ring on your finger.
