“Yup. Last week. Denver thought it was no big deal.” This brought on a round of tutting and discussing how men had no idea about anything. It had been so long since Lisa’s short-lived marriage ended that she felt out of the loop and couldn’t relate to what long-term couples discussed. She guessed ruining $10,000 worth of marble floors was pretty high on the list.
All fifty people in the garden tent looked super fancy. Lisa wore a flirty pastel blue halter dress, high in the front and longer in the back. Of all body parts, she was especially proud of her legs. She hit the gym three times a week to stay fit, and just two days ago, she got a spray tan for the event. Even though it was early October, the sun was surprisingly nice that day.
“Right, lady.” Announced Monroe, another biker wife, but mostly, Monroe was a kick-ass woman. She swept the glass out of Nina’s hand before she could finish the champagne and handed it off to one of the catering staff. The tent was elegant in neutral colors, with flowers and tall candles on every table. Nothing you’d expect from a biker wedding. Soft music piped in from discreet speakers, and every table had a linen cloth and bows on the chairs. Lisa’s wedding had been nothing like this, with the arrangements left to her mother-in-law and the wedding co-ordinator. She hadn’t known a soul other than her husband and in-laws.
“It’s time to say those vows again. Are you ready for round two?”
Nina smiled and then looked to the left.
It wasn’t rocket science to guess it was her husband approaching when Nina all but swooned on the spot and held out her hand for Tomb to grasp, and the big mammoth man in all black pulled his tinier wife into his chest. Their heads were bent, and his voice, although deep and rumbling, was too low to hear what words they were sharing, but they obviously made Nina deliriously happy when she beamed.
Lisa loved seeing her friend so happy.
She returned to town right after Nina’s near-divorce. She didn’t see Tomb’s attempts to fix their marriage, but she heard all the gossip from the girls, and it made her fan herself with romantic swoons.
To be loved with single-minded determination was the stuff of myths.
But obviously not, because she was looking at it between Nina and Tomb.
For the next hour, she was among the select guests who watched the happy couple reaffirm their marriage vows, committing themselves to each other. Lisa swallowed back tears and clapped with everyone else. The crowd went wilder when Tomb dipped Nina to kiss her in a way that should have been reserved for their bedroom.
But Lisa wasn’t actually watching her friend’s huge husband; another tall guy had caught her eye for a while.
He didn’t look familiar.
But he also did, which was weird.
That explained why her eyes kept glancing at him intermittently throughout the day.
He was dressed in a black suit, black shirt, and tie, matching the groom. And though he was skyscraper-tall like the groom, that’s where the similarities ended. He sported a clipped beard and quaffed dark brown hair, styled short around his skull as they’d wear from the 1950s. Every finger held a silver ring, his thumbs included, and Lisa saw hints of tattoos around the cuffs of his shirt.
The stranger was currently laughing and smacking Tomb on the back in that bro-hug way men did. Around the happy couple, more bikers went up to offer their congratulations.
“Are there any five-foot-six bikers in the MC?” Lisa half-chuckled, leaning to the side to ask Monroe, “Or does the top of their heads have to brush the clouds to join the club?”
“Right? I said something similar to Chains once. They’re all so huge.”
“Mmm,” Lisa agreed, scanning the biker gathering.
They were all so freaking pretty, too.
Her eyes kept returning to the one who felt familiar to her, with the wide span of broad shoulders and lean waist.
As if he sensed her nosy scrutiny, the dark biker’s head turned her way, and for the first time that day, her eyes clashed with his.
And swear to Jesus and all his newborn goats, she felt the world shift underneath her feet as her chest wall rumbled with an inner earthquake.
Gunmetal gray eyes. The color of the sharpest, shiniest swords. Unsmiling, yet curiously staring unashamedly.
It was Lisa who broke their gaze, and she gripped the small purse on her lap as if it were a buoy out at sea, waiting to be rescued.
It couldn’t behim.
Taking a much-needed inhale that eased her shortness of breath, she glanced back through the marquee. The tall man had disappeared from view, now chatting with a pregnant Scarlett, her man’s arm comfortably around her.
The other man’s shoulder covered half of his face so that she couldn’t get a proper look. It didn’t stop Lisa from staring, anyway.
Through the toasts, as all the bikers took their turns with speeches, she covertly watched the man in black for any signs he might be someone she’d known a long time ago.
