Resilient

by Gillian Archer

“Whatever.” Nicole retorted as she angrily tore her seatbelt off and climbed out. “I guess that means you stay here, Trick.”

  “That’s it,” I said as I reached for the door handle.

  Nicole screeched, slammed her door, then all but ran into the building. I sat back in my seat with a shit-eating grin. Christ, this was gonna be fun.

  “I, uh…”

  I jerked my eyes away from Nicole trying unsuccessfully to hide behind a large planter and found Jessica staring at me with her mouth open. The smile slid from my face, and I stared stoically back at her.

  “What—How did you…You know she hates bikers, right?” Jessica’s forehead wrinkled with concern. “Like hates them hates them.”

  “Yeah. I kinda noticed.”

  “Okay. Just so long as you know where you both stand.” Jessica gave me one more searching look. “We’ll be ten minutes, tops.” She gently closed the truck door and made her way into the shop.

  I rubbed a hand over my face and heaved a sigh.

  I was so fucked.

  Chapter 2

  Nicole

  “Trick?”

  I looked up from my fake absorption of the huge planter next to the door of the florist shop and found my best friend scowling at me. “What?”

  “Seriously, Nic? You can’t even pretend to play nice with my friends? These guys are Zag’s family. They’re in my life and they aren’t going away. If you want to be my friend and bridesmaid this week, you have to learn to suck it up.”

  “But I just—”

  “I don’t wanna hear it. At least do me the favor of faking it for the rest of the week, because I really don’t have the time or patience to put up with your shit right now.”

  Jessica left me standing by the door as she marched to the waiting florist at the counter. I heaved a huge sigh and reminded myself that she was stressed. I shouldn’t risk the wrath of Bridezilla and our friendship of thirteen years because my panties were in a bunch.

  But seriously, was that the way she saw me? The über bitch who didn’t care about anyone’s feelings? I thought I’d been harmlessly flirting with Tank. He was an adult and a biker who could obviously take care of himself. I mean he was tall, muscular, and gorgeous. So gorgeous. He had the good looks and badass confidence of a rock god.

  Only I was pretty sure he had the street cred to back up his badass-ery. The way he made my heart pound when he threatened to spank me earlier? Oh, good God. Yes, please.

  If only he weren’t a biker. Why did he have to be a biker?

  Ugh.

  I heaved another huge sigh—this time of regret—and waded back into the world of weddings and my own personal Bridezilla. I nodded along and made comforting sounds to Jessica when the roses in the sample arrangement were a shade off the ivory that Jessica had wanted. I really doubted anyone would notice, but I didn’t say that. I knew better than to be too placating this week. I didn’t want her to think I was patronizing her.

  I just didn’t get what all the mania was about. She was marrying the man she loved, the father of their cute baby girl—who cared if the flowers weren’t perfect? Jessica was getting her happily ever after—why couldn’t that be enough for her?

  Hell, if it were my wedding I’d have done the destination wedding thing so practically no one came along and I’d have a built-in honeymoon. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

  But it wasn’t my wedding. And the way I’d been going through guys lately, it would never be my wedding. Maybe I really was a bitch.

  This much introspection was depressing. I really wasn’t liking myself much at the moment.

  Instead I faked it. I faked interest in the florist’s solution to the rose “problem.” I acted like I gave a shit in the selection of boutonnieres. And I faked interest when Jessica started haggling over the final bill. Actually I did care about that part—the guy’s math was all wrong.

  Jessica was more cheerful when we turned to leave, but she stopped me when we reached the door. “Maybe we should drop you off at home.”

  “Jess. I’m sorry, okay? I promise I’ll play nice with Zag’s family. I’m here for you—to make this week flow as seamlessly as possible.”

  She didn’t look convinced, judging by her raised brows.

  So I dug a little deeper. “I’ll even apologize to Truck.”

  “Tank!”

  “Sorry! Sorry. Freudian slip. He’s waiting in a truck. I was thinking about him waiting in the truck. I swear.” I gestured to the huge black-and-chrome lifted four-by-four parked at the curb, just as badass as its driver. The thing was enormous and shiny new, and always lurking in my peripheral vision as if I needed a reminder of the gorgeous pickup and the even more attractive guy behind the wheel.

  “I know you haven’t been around the biker lifestyle, but respect is a huge thing to them. If you don’t show respect to the guys…” She trailed off like it would make the difference in our friendship.

  The thought cut me to the core. We’d been best friends ever since my family moved to Reno when I was in middle school. Jessica and Emily were the two constant people in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without them.

  The fact that she was lecturing me about biker life and respect didn’t escape me, either. I wasn’t touching that one with a ten-foot pole.

  “I will. Okay? I’ll apologize to Tank and make nice. I hereby promise to be a good girl for the rest of the week.”

  “Okay.” Jessica enveloped me in a huge hug. Her voice was muffled by my hair when she spoke again. “I know I’m being a total Bridezilla, but I just love Zag so much. I want everything to be perfect. I want him to know that he’s worthy of me and my friends and family. He’s just…He’s everything to me and I want him to know that he deserves everything I can give him.”

  I pulled back and looked into Jessica’s teary brown eyes. “He knows, Jess. I’ve seen him with you—in the hospital after you were shot, at home when you were recuperating, with your daughter—that is a man in love. He knows.”

  “I just…They’re all so damaged, Nic. Every member of the club that I’ve met. They all have stories that will just break your heart.”

  I smiled wearily and shook my head. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. Zag is an awesomely lucky guy.”

  “Ahem.” An irate voice came from behind us. “If you ladies are done with your mutual respect circle, you’re blocking my entrance.”

  I looked up, but no one was trying to get in despite our “blocking” the doorway. “Listen, buddy—”

  “We’re just leaving, Mr. Kane,” Jessica cut in. “Can’t wait to see your amazing arrangements this weekend. Bye!” Then she pushed me out the door. “What happened to playing nice?”

  “Hey, I only promised to be nice to your biker buddies. I said nothing whatsoever about douchebag florists.”

  Jessica’s shoulders shook with her suppressed laughter. Or maybe she was pissed. Kinda hard to tell with her current expression of disbelief. After a beat she gave in and burst out laughing.

  We piled into the truck, still giggling. Tank turned and gave us a confused look. Apparently he saw nothing fun about visiting a florist. Or maybe it had something to do with his conversation with Jessica before she came into the shop. Suddenly I really wanted to know what she’d said. Was it about me? Him?

  But that reminded me.

  I buckled my seatbelt and faced the windshield. “I’m sorry if you were offended by my lack of respect earlier, Tank. It won’t happen again.”

  Tank’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, and I could see the confusion reflected in his green eyes before they were veiled by his ridiculously long eyelashes. He grunted. “Not a problem. Don’t worry about it. Where to next?”

  “Heritage Bakery on California Ave.” Jessica happily buckled her seatbelt, then swung around and gave me a huge grin as if to say “See, everything’s all right.”

  But I couldn’t help but notice that Tank didn’t once meet my eyes in the rearview mirror again. Unlike th
e drive to the florist that had been so full of sexual tension and possibilities, the rest of the day was just empty. Soulless.

  It was probably for the best. With the craziness of Jessica’s wedding, my demanding job, and my inability to hang onto a guy lately, I didn’t need the complication of a man in my life right now. Besides, I’d never have room in my heart for a biker.

  I’d learned my lesson the hard way with bikers.

  Chapter 3

  Tank

  REHEARSAL DINNER, REBEL’S HOUSE

  SEPTEMBER 18

  Sitting on Reb’s back porch with an ice-cold draft beer in my hand, I finally found a moment of peace. The last week had been a pain in the ass. I could vaguely remember all the hoopla surrounding my older sister Christy’s wedding. I was still in high school at the time so I wasn’t involved in all the planning—I just showed up in a rented tux and stood where my mom told me. Simple.

  Zag’s wedding was turning into anything but.

  After spending the week ferrying Zag’s fiancée, Jessica, anywhere her heart desired (and attempting to ignore her hot friend in the backseat), carrying kegs and coolers full of sodas around Reb’s backyard, not to mention the to-do list I was given for tomorrow, this wedding felt like a three-ring circus.

  And honestly I didn’t see the point.

  They already had a baby together. Plus Zag had claimed her in front of the club as his old lady over a year ago—Jessica even had her “Property of” vest. Why did they need a huge, formal wedding? It was a waste of everyone’s time and their money. They could’ve gone on a kick-ass vacation with the cash they were spending on this wedding.

  Not that I ever planned on getting married—ever—but I could guarantee it’d never be the crazy production this one was turning into. Justice of the Peace or county clerk. A hundred bucks and done.

  But I wasn’t stupid enough to say it while I drove Jessica around or carted kegs here and there or when Zag handed me my list of jobs for tomorrow. Nope. I swallowed that shit down like a man. Although some might say I was currently hiding in the backyard like a little bitch. But in my defense, Jessica was on a warpath, and I wanted no part of her wrath. From the little bit of her I saw today, I could tell she was stressed the fuck out. After yesterday when she lit into me because I took a wrong turn while driving her to the hairstylist, I wanted no part of that shitshow today. For such a usually levelheaded woman, she’d said some things that made my balls shrivel up inside my body. I wasn’t afraid of her exactly.

  Okay, maybe I was.

  But pissed was usually one step away from tears, and as I said before, I didn’t do tears. Plus I really didn’t wanna feel Zag’s rage if he found out I made his woman cry. Fuck me.

  “You hiding out here, too?”

  I jumped at the sudden question since I thought I’d been all alone outside but relaxed the moment I realized it was Stitch and not Zag who’d found me.

  “Yup.” I took a swig of my beer and sank back into the couch on Reb’s back porch. “Why are you here so early?”

  “Brittany wanted to help Jessica with her makeup or some shit. Where’s the beer?”

  I pointed at the keg and waited while Stitch filled a plastic red cup to the brim. “So what’s new?”

  “Nothing. Anything new with you?”

  “Nope. Same shit, different day.”

  We sat in silence and drank our beers. If only life could always be as awesome as this moment. All I needed was a hot and eager bitch and the night would be complete.

  It was only maybe two minutes after I thought that when the back door flew open and Nicole came flying out.

  “Sweet baby Jesus, please tell me that’s beer.”

  Before I could answer, she swiped my cup out of my hand and pounded the rest of my drink.

  Fuck me. She was perfect.

  Dammit, I had to stop thinking that. Despite her sarcastic shell, Nicole was a forever girl like Jessica or Emily or Stitch’s wife, Brittany.

  Not for me in other words.

  Nicole wiped her chin, then held my cup out to me.

  I shook my head. “Nice try, baby girl, but I’m not taking it back until it’s refilled. So you can run to the keg over there, pull me another round, grab yourself a cup, then maybe I’ll find room on the porch swing for you.”

  Nicole blinked down at me. “Holy shit. Are you for real?”

  “Yup.” I folded my arms over my chest, silently refusing to take the cup back.

  “You men are all alike.” Nicole tossed my cup into my lap, then turned to leave.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “No. You think just because you’re a guy who’s bigger than me and has that hot, badass swagger thing down pat that I’m gonna bow and scrape to do your bidding? It’s pathetic. You couldn’t pay me to serve you.”

  I stood up. The cup fell to the ground and made a sharp crunching noise under my boot heal. “Now hold up a minute.”

  Nicole froze, and her shoulders heaved a huge sigh before she turned and faced me.

  I couldn’t hide my smug grin. “Hot badass swagger?”

  Stitch muffled his laughter behind his cup.

  “Argh!” Nicole tossed me one last glare, then stomped back inside the house.

  I chuckled as I grabbed a new cup and filled it up at the keg. Fuck me, she was cute. I took a slurp of my beer, then sat back down on the porch swing.

  “You son of a bitch.”

  I jumped at Stitch’s swear. To be honest, I kinda forgot he was sitting outside, too. “What?”

  “You’re into her. You, Shawn ‘Tank’ Hudson, like a good girl. I fucking never thought I’d live to see the day.”

  “Shut it. You know it’s not like that. I just like needling the chick. She’s got thin skin and riles easily.”

  “Which you think is fucking hot.”

  I wasn’t gonna deny that. Or acknowledge it.

  Instead I shrugged and buried my face in my plastic cup.

  “I’m just giving you shit, T. It’s not a bad thing. Just…be careful.”

  It kinda stung that Stitch would think I needed a warning. The guy was practically a father figure to me. He’d been the one to sponsor me with the club. We’d become friends after I got out of the Marines, and I started hanging out in the roughest bars I could find. I’d needed to vent all the rage and stress I’d been keeping pent up. Alcohol and bar fights were the obvious answer. So when one night I’d noticed three assholes—who I later found out were Saddletramps—cornering a lone guy in the alley behind one of my new favorite hangouts, I waded in to even up the odds. After I’d delivered a few well-deserved ass whippings alongside Stitch, he thanked me by buying a round. A few drinks later he’d somehow talked me into prospecting for the True Brothers MC. He’d given me a new outlet for all my bottled-up rage and stress while (mostly) keeping me out of jail, and at the same time gave me the thing I’d been missing most after the Marines. Brotherhood.

  So the fact that Stitch thought I needed to be warned off Nicole stung.

  “You don’t have to say it. I know she’s off-limits. Consider me warned.”

  “Not what I meant.” Stitch took a long pull from his beer. “I think…nah, never mind. It’s probably best if you figure it out on your own. Have fun.”

  I blinked. Stitch went from warning me off to giving me permission in the span of a heartbeat. What the fuck was that about? “Figure what out?”

  Stitch shook his head. “Nah, I didn’t get any warning. Why should you?”

  “Holy fuck, old man. Are you going senile on me? You’re not making any fucking sense.”

  But Stitch just hitched a shoulder in a shrug and drank some more beer. “Not senile. Just been around the block a time or two.”

  Like that cleared things up for me. “I think you need to get a hobby or something. You’ve been spending so much time with Brittany, you’re starting to sound like her.”

  “Fuck me. Haven’t been doing much talking with Brittany. Now that w
e’re finally empty nesters and have the house to ourselves, we’re too busy christening all the rooms to do much talking.”

  Christ, that was a mental picture I didn’t need. So I decided to burn the image out of my brain with some more beer and ignore whatever cryptic bullshit Stitch was warning me about or not.

  —

  Two hours later, I was still covertly watching Nicole from the other side of Reb’s backyard. Like some kind of socially awkward, mouth-breathing stalker.

  Fuck, what was wrong with me?

  She was a siren song for me. I swear I could hear her laughter over everyone else’s and it drew my eyes. Every. Fucking. Time. Seeing her with a huge smile, her hair flowing down her shoulders and the way her tits bounced with laughter had me hard as a rock and trying to hide my boner like a middle-school punk called to the chalkboard in math class.

  Just when I’d finally calmed down my teenage hormones, she’d move and make her skirt float around her thighs until the only thing I could think about was how awesome it’d look bunched up around her waist while I sank deep into her.

  I could hear her steamy moans in my ears already.

  I stifled my groan of discomfort and drank some more beer. Beer cured everything, right?

  “Damn, I’m about ready to call it on this fucking dog and pony show. How about you?” Bumper, one of my Brothers, sidled up to where I had been standing all by myself in a dark corner of Reb’s backyard.

  I lifted a shoulder. “I’m off tonight, so I got nowhere to be.”

  “I say we blow this popsicle stand and get back to the clubhouse. I want to party with girls that I can actually get somewhere with. This is like going to a goddamn buffet and just looking. Tomorrow at the wedding is gonna be fucking torture.”

  I grunted in agreement.

  Just then Nicole looked up and locked eyes with me from across the bonfire. My pulse sped up and I couldn’t look away. She bit her lip and tilted her head as she surveyed me. I’d’ve given anything to know what she was thinking just then.

  Bumper snorted. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

  I jerked my eyes away from Nicole’s tempting curves and narrowed them at Bumper. “What?”