Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 82282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
That reminded me. “You had quite a few missed calls and texts.”
Letting one arm drop from around my shoulders, he pulled out his phone and started going through the texts first.
By the way his chest bounced, I could tell they were amusing him greatly.
A sound from his phone had me turning and looking at the video playing. I couldn’t see much, my eyes were still really blurry, but I could tell just by the big white dress that it was of someone getting married.
“Do you, Mr. Killian Red Spurlock take Ms. Vidalia Elise Sheffield to be your lawfully wedded wife to have and to hold, from this day forward.” The biker in leathers asked.
My breathing stalled in my chest, and I gasped looking at my finger. Sure enough, I had a ring. A ring shaped like one side of a handcuff.
Reaching out quickly, I found one on Trance’s finger, too, only much, much larger.
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
“I now pronounce you biker and wife. You may kiss your old lady.” The priest/biker said.
The video ended, and Trance went to the next video, which was of us riding out of the chapel on a rented Harley.
“That’s awesome.” I gasped in excitement. “Do you think they took a wedding video?”
Trance’s eyes met mine, and the emotion in them was nerve wracking.
Excitement. Hope. Love. Reluctance. Joy.
They all flitted through his eyes rapidly, and I was left knowing he needed to hear my reassurance.
“I love you, Trance.” I said into his eyes.
His head bowed, and he rested his cheek against my own before replying. “I love you more, cupcake.”
***
Foster and Miller didn’t look any better than we did. Although they weren’t wearing any wedding rings like we were, so that was a plus.
They were both wearing camo fatigues and annoying smiles.
“There’s the newlyweds!” Foster called loudly, making everyone in the vicinity turn and watch our progression.
We were walking down into the hotel lobby about to catch a ride to Trance’s parents’ house.
Trance sighed and pulled me behind him, giving me an up close and personal view of the cut on his back.
It was fairly simple. The top patch, or rocker like Trance liked to call it, was curved with The Dixie Wardens embroidered on it. The bottom ‘rocker’ said Louisiana. There was a small patch to the side that said simply ‘MC.’ The last thing was the wraith like woman wearing a long flowing dress. The entire thing was done in shades of black, white, and grey.
On our way out of the hotel room earlier, Trance had told me he’d already started the club’s resident seamstress on making me a vest of my own.
I still wasn’t too sure what I thought about the whole ‘ownership’ thing, but I believed in the saying ‘whatever makes him happy.’ My own father had come from a MC, and I vaguely knew the ins and outs of the club life. I knew what getting involved with a club member meant, and I was happy to do it.
That wasn’t to say I was completely comfortable with it all, though.
“Hey sister.” Miller said before he pulled me into a bear hug.
I hugged him back tight, enjoying getting to see him again.
Foster was the next to engulf me in a hug, and I giggled when he shook me like I weighed nothing.
The smile that lit my face when they both hugged me in turn made Trance smile, and then his face fell.
“Where’s Radar?” He shouted.
Miller and Foster both turned and started bellowing in laughter. “Oh man, you were so drunk last night. Mom and dad took Radar home with them because they didn’t trust us with his safety.”
“How do you remember everything?” I asked suspiciously.
He shrugged. “Been drunk a lot over my thirty two years. I can hold my own. Trance, there, outdid himself last night though. He was plastered before he got off the plane,. Which we expected. The boy doesn’t fly well.”
“Even though he was in the air force, might I add?” Foster said gleefully.
Trance narrowed his eyes at his two brothers. “I was MP. They don’t fly.”
They both shrugged and led their way out to a brand spankin’ new Challenger. It was cherry red with white racing stripes. I fell in love as soon as I saw it. I’d always hoped that my dad would get me a Hunter Green Camaro when I was sixteen, but then the accident had happened and any hope or dream of driving a vehicle flew out the window.
“Nice car,” I said as I trailed my fingertips along the fender.
Foster smiled at me. “This is my baby. It isn’t driven much. I keep it parked in my mom’s garage while we’re on missions. She’s the love of my life.”
The ride to their parents’ house took around thirty minutes as they lived on the outskirts of the city. They pulled up into a quiet, mid-income level subdivision, and parked in front of a perfect little cookie cutter house.
“This looks like a house that would be off a Christmas card.” I mused as I stepped out onto the spongiest grass I’d ever felt. I could totally take a nap on that grass.
All three men walked up the front walk and walked inside as if they still lived with their parents.
Then each walked straight into the kitchen, grabbed a beer, and took a seat at the island bar where an older version of the three men stood, also drinking a beer.
It was very obvious that this was their father. Hell, he could nearly be an older brother.
His hair was curly and blonde like his sons, but it was also silver around the edges.
He was in shape like his sons, but you could tell the muscles weren’t quite as hard, nor quite as toned.
And Jesus, those dimples.
As soon as he saw me he smiled, and I mourned the fact that I didn’t remember our first visit.
“Viddy, my dear,” he said in his deep baritone voice. “I’m glad you could come.”
His smile was contagious, and I gave him one of my own before leaning against Trance’s side. “It’s nice to see you again.”