Saint snorts. “I take it you’re agreeing to be my wife.”
“Only if you don’t fuck things up.”
“Oh, babe. I’m sure to do that. Every day of the week and twice on Sundays.” He grins at her. “But just think of all the make-up sex we can have.”
That seems to strike a chord with her, as her face brightens up. “How could I turn down an offer like that?”
I can’t rememberif I ever dreamed of getting married as a young girl. By the time I was eight years old, any thoughts of a happy matrimony had been snatched from me. I never spent time imagining a handsome prince whisking me away, or a wedding day full of silk and lace trimmings. I hadn’t the first idea where to start planning our special day, where it would be held, or who would officiate the ceremony.
But even if I had no inkling myself, it seemed like there were many around me who were more than willing to help.
Pippa made the great suggestion that we have a joint ceremony here at the club. A biker wedding, which I couldn’t even envisage. Short was worried I was getting swept along by the tide, but when I explained to him that I had no dreams to fulfil, and that I wouldn’t be disappointed with anything she proposed, he stopped worrying.
It’s four weeks later, and I and my fellow bride are getting ready in Bullseye’s room, easily the biggest in the clubhouse. Pippa’s dress is a goth version of a wedding gown, black satin covered in black lace. I’ve gone with the traditional white, but instead of a bridal style, it’s a plain sheath that hugs me and makes the best of my curves, emphasising the features that had made my dad put me on a diet, but which my fiancé loves.
With no fathers to give us away, Pippa and I walk together down the aisle, through all the chairs, hired in for the ceremony,and toward an archway of flowers, set up in the newly mowed grounds to the back of the clubhouse.
The sound of bikes arriving has been going on for hours, and I’m amazed at the number of men who’ve by now taken their seats. As we slowly proceed to the traditional notes of the wedding march, I have time to glance around, amazed at what I see.
There’s Lunatic and Hardcore, and another couple of brothers I don’t recognise, one in particular looking forbidding and stern. The famous Big Daddy? It could be. Behind them sit Rhino, Token, and a rather dazed-looking Blitz, so I assume they’ve flown in from Georgia again. And as if that isn’t enough, on the other side of the aisle sit the Texas brothers, Renegade, Rebel, Hazard, and LoneStar, who’s got his Stetson perched on his head. Men, sitting behind him, wearing Kings of Anarchy cuts, whom I don’t recognise, complain that his hat blocks their view. By the time I come level with him, with a scowl, he’s removed it and is holding it in his lap.
As my head swivels again, I see more men who are familiar. Bigfoot, Prez of the New Mexico chapter, who’s sitting with an arm around a woman. If I remember rightly from the conversations around the club, she must be Sammie, his old lady. Next to them sits Baffle, with his own old lady, Nell. There’s also Jester, Grease, and a guy who looks just like him, who I assume is his brother, Glitch, and Dime. Only Smooth is missing from the guys who’d ridden to help us kick the asses of the men the MDMC had sent.
Wryly, I think with the numbers present, today’s not going to be the day anyone fucks with the Kings.
Nearer the front, two civilians catch my eye. There’s a woman about the same height as me, but beside her sits a dwarf. Covering my mouth to hide my chuckle, I can only think thisis Tall, the man who gave my very soon-to-be husband the moniker Short. I’m so happy I’ll finally be able to meet them.
Then there’s our club, taking up the front two rows, the club girls sitting alongside them. Trixie, who’d been a great help in the planning, gives Pippa and me an enthusiastic finger wave as we pass. Trip’s got pride of place at the end of the front row, with Bullseye sitting beside him, with his officers, minus the VP of course. I notice the prez is wearing a look of pride, as if what’s happening today is all down to him.
And Trip? Well, he absolutely beams as I walk past him. I blow him a kiss, and he returns the gesture, just as I’d taught him.
Then there are no more guests to distract me, and my full attention is on Short. He’s staring at me, hunger evident in his gaze. He’s got eyes only for me. He doesn’t even glance toward Pippa. He draws me in like a magnet, some out-of-this-world force moving my feet forward until I’m standing beside him.
“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispers, as he leans in.
A clearing of the throat by the officiant has us both grinning. I take a second to look at the man who’s going to perform the ceremony, having left this part to Pippa. We’d initially assumed that Words would marry us, as he is an ordained minister. But more used to conducting funerals, he’d declined politely, saying he didn’t want his sober appearance and sombre delivery to ruin our day. Even when pressed, he told us, “I separate people from their loved ones. I don’t join them together. You want someone who can reflect your happiness on your special day.”
I stifle a giggle when I see who’s going to be doing the honours, seeing it’s the missing man from New Mexico, Smooth. He’s standing in front of us, looking slightly bored, dressed informally in jeans and his cut, oh, and a black t-shirt with the slogan,Chaining people together for lifewritten on it. I turn away, trying to suppress my snort of laughter.
I remember Pippa saying she didn’t want a stuffy, formal wedding. I’m beginning to think she’s had her wishes delivered in spades.
Pippa and I agreed on one thing – there were to be no over-wordy vows. By now, Saint and Short knew how we felt for them, and we were both confident in their feelings for us. It was enough to just go along with the simple service with no embellishments. A couple of ‘I do’s’ and we’d be done. Then we could start to celebrate this first step into the rest of our lives.
However, it seems Smooth’s the one who didn’t get the memo.
First staring at Short, and then at Saint, his lips start to curve. “Dearly beloved…” he pauses, rolls his eyes, then lifts his gaze to encompass the congregation and smirks. “A few months ago, I helped save the lives of these assholes. Now they stand beside me, and it’s my chance to rescue them again.” Leaning forward, cupping his hand around his mouth, and though he looks like he’s going to whisper, he makes no attempt to lower his voice. “I’m giving you an out, Brothers. I feel it is my duty to offer you a chance to escape a life of servitude, balls, and chains. Blink twice if you want to take me up on my offer.”
Short puts his arm around me and draws me closer, and I see Saint pulling Pippa to him.
“Not buying what you’re selling,” Saint says.
“Just fuckin’ get on with it,” Short demands.
Smooth’s eyes roll upward once again. “Remember, I gave you an out.” Now he’s staring at me, his gaze roaming my body with an obvious lecherous leer. When Short growls, he turns his attention to Pippa, obviously mentally undressing her in the same way. Saint steps forward, and Smooth holds up his hands. “Was only going to offer these lovely ladies another option. Hey, I’m single. Trouble is, you’re both so lovely, I can’t choosebetween you. What do you say, we get together as a ménage, and ride off into the sunset?”
Saint tenses, but Pippa, with a vice-like grip on his arm, holds him back. “I say I see how you got your road name. You reckon you’re a smooth talker. But I have to refuse your attractive,” she pauses and mimes putting her finger down her throat, “offer.” Leaning forward, she winks at me. “No offence, Bron, but I don’t swing that way.”
It’s hard to talk as I’m laughing so hard. “None taken,” I manage to stammer out at last. “I don’t fancy you either.”
