Hollywood stood as my best man, and Becca was Stephanie’s maid of honor. Something was up with them. No one commented on the tension that was palpable between them, but everyone noticed with a subtle curiosity.
My entire chapter had their bikes lined up, forming a gauntlet of Harleys for us to rush through after the ceremony. We laughed as we held hands and got showered with rice and the rev of Harley engines.
The next few months weren’t always picture perfect as we learned to live as a family, but hell if it wasn’t still a beautiful life because we were a family.
We made a promise on our wedding night to never go to bed mad, regardless of the situation. We stuck to that. We kissed each other before falling asleep each night, and if we’d been arguing, well, the makeup sex was explosive and cathartic.
Some days were bad for me, like my fucking PTSD was a creeping shadow waiting to suck me under. Other days, my family kept me grounded and sane.
At least I could accept that it was a work in progress. I may never be free of it, but I prayed that there would be more days I stayed grounded than lost.
Remi was so happy and excited to be a big sister, and she spoke to her little brother or sister every day while her momma and I listened on with happy smiles.
The Oasis Pub became a popular hangout, not just for the MC and the citizens of the town but for people passing through and tourists staying at the lakes.
It seemed like I was constantly working on fixing up the house. It was a few-and-far-between weekend that everyone from the MC wasn’t there for a barbeque. I’d even been building a stall in the barn for a pony. Stephanie said I was a sucker.
The MC had worked hard to become self-sufficient with legit businesses, but it was still an ongoing process. Between working my ass off at the shop to keep that business rolling and the progression of Stephanie’s pregnancy I was stressed out. She kept telling me I was overreacting, but this was the first time I’d experienced any of it.
Fuck, I was a basket case when Stephanie finally went into labor.
“Oh my God, where’s your bag? We had it two days ago!” I exclaimed, pulling at my hair.
“Sweetheart, calm down. Quit running around like a lunatic.” She gently placed her hand on my arm and granted me that smile that always calmed my heart. “Everything is in the car. We just need to call my parents to meet us at the hospital for Remi. Now we need to get our butts there.”
Once we were at the hospital, everything seemed to move so fast.
“I swear we’re never having sex again. I’m not going to have you go through this again.” I held her hand through the next contraction. The nurses all tried to prevent me from seeing their smiles. Still, I saw them all rolling their eyes because they’d heard that one before.
Except I meant it.
Stephanie laughed with gasping breaths between contractions.
“Honey, I’m fine. It hurts, but I’m not dying,” she panted. “You can bet your sweet ass we’ll be having sex again, or I’m gonna die of neglect.”
Holding a cool rag to her head, I could only glare.
By the end of it, she’d thrown a few colorful words my way. Like the wise man I was, I kept my mouth shut. When the doctor announced we were the proud parents of an 8 lb. 2 oz. baby boy, I smiled so big I thought my face would crack.
I had a son.
I had a family.
“Daddy loves you, Wyatt.” As I kissed my son’s inky, fluffy head while Stephanie held him to her breast, I swore I’d burst from pride and love.
“He’s beautiful, Colton,” she whispered.
Trying to hide the tears that threatened, I hung my head.
Yes, life was indeed beautiful.
The End
First, thank you to my husband, who has supported me through every decision I’ve made over the years. When I told him I was writing a book, he not only encouraged me but suffered through reading the first few chapters, even though this is definitely not his type of book! Thank you for your unfailing belief in my ability to fulfill what seems like a life-long dream of becoming an author. Thank you for loving me and for your patience during the late nights of my bedside light being on and my fingers pounding the keys while I sat in bed typing because I couldn’t go to sleep without getting my thoughts down.
Next, thank you to Sybil Bartel, an amazingly talented author who answered question after question, motivated and guided me through this insane journey. Her books are amazing! She led me to Clarise Tan of CT Cover Creations, who worked diligently with me to create the perfect cover which portrayed Colton exactly as I imagined him, and to all the awesome ladies at Hot Tree Editing. You all did a great job of catching my oopsies and ensuring I wasn’t being ridiculously repetitive.
Also, a huge thank you to my good friends Penny and Sherry, who were my proofreaders and motivators through this entire journey. I really don’t know if I could have finished this book without you! And thank you to those of you who diligently read each section as I released it to offer me your encouragement, thoughts, and criticisms, which helped this book be better for your efforts.
Last but never least, a massive thank you to America’s servicemen and women who protect our freedom on a daily basis. They do their duty, leaving their families for weeks, months, and years at a time, without asking for praise or thanks. I would also like to remind the readers that not all combat injuries are visible, nor do they heal easily. These silent, wicked injuries wreak havoc on their minds and hearts while we go about our days completely oblivious.
To my main man… my real life husband who rolls his eyes and laughs at me as I look through hundreds of pictures of half-naked men trying to find the perfect cover model. You know you’re my number one. I love you, Marty!
I STOOD AT THE door of my best friend’s home and tried to work up the courage to knock.
Shit, how was I going to explain why I was there with all my meager belongings packed in my car? A frustrated breath expelled from between my lips.
I just didn’t know where else to go. I really didn’t know if it was the best place to stay, considering I knew he, who ridiculously preoccupied my thoughts, was there in the same town, but Steph was my best—if not my only—friend. Telling myself I would just have to ignore him if I saw him seemed easier said than done.
Shit.
Sighing, I reached up and knocked on the door.
Seven Months Earlier
I had always wanted to go to Vegas. So, when Stephanie called me and told me she was getting married and she wanted me to be her maid of honor, heck yeah baby, I was there. Sure, I had been a wild child in college, but being an elementary school teacher kind of put a damper on being a party girl unless I went waaaay out of town. I don’t care who you are, everyone likes to let their hair down every so often.
So, there I was in Sin City, ready to party it up for Steph’s bachelorette party. Of course, Reaper and the guys would be in the background the whole time since he didn’t want her out of his sight after she had been attacked and tortured by her ex-boyfriend. Yeah, that really happened. I couldn’t make this shit up. And who could blame him? What a nightmare that was. God, I was angry she hadn’t called me after it happened, and I chewed her ass out for it. She’d said she was embarrassed by the situation and didn’t want to burden me with it, but dammit, we were supposed to be best friends. It was our job as best friends to be there for each other.
Anyway, I was dressed to kill for the party that night, because if I could, I was getting fucking shit-faced and laid. My relationship with Trevor was a dismal failure and had been the most miserable, boring, shitty year and a half of my life. I’d tried to live a “respectable life”—yes, air quotes and all—and keep the image of a proper school teacher, but it wasn’t me. Now let me clarify. I’m not saying I wanted to run around and be a slut or a drunk, but I wanted to be able to go out and have a good time occasionally.
Not Trevor. Trevor was stable, responsible, reliable, had a great job on the Air Forc
e Base in Omaha, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah… and he was boring. God, he was soooooo boring. His idea of a night out was to go to the movies and home again. Eating out would be a waste of money when we had a pantry full of food at home. Popcorn with your movie? Forget that shit. That was “over-priced and wasteful.” So? Movies and popcorn went together like peanut butter and chocolate. It should be illegal to have one without the other. Sorry, I digress. He sucked in bed. Like really “sucked monkey balls” bad. He insisted on the lights being out and only ever being in the missionary position. Really? Ugh. And an orgasm? What the fuck was that? I hadn’t achieved one without the help of my hand or BOB since the day Trevor and I moved in together. He hated me getting dressed up, doing my hair, wearing makeup—all things he considered “pretentious.” What he wanted was some librarian-type, or better yet, an Amish woman. Yeah, that was what he should have found, an Amish chick. So breaking things off with him before I came to Vegas was the plan. The reality was he begged me to work on things when I got back. He wanted me to “go have a good time with the girls,” and then we would discuss things when I returned. He said… wait for it… he could “try to change.” Sheeeit. Okay. Sure.
Yeah, discuss things? No. I was so done, but I didn’t want to keep arguing with him, so I decided to let it lie until I got back.
So, there I was in my tight, short, red dress with my boobs flashing ample cleavage, and matte black, six-inch heels. My dark auburn hair was tamed with a shit-ton of hair product, but the curls were still on the riotous side and fit my mood. I topped the look with some “fuck me” deep-red lipstick and looked at my reflection in the hotel mirror with satisfaction. I’d gotten a light fake-bake tan and was fit from hours spent at the gym in an effort to be away from Trevor.
Man, I was so stupid for thinking I could make my parents happy and conform to society’s expectations of the good little school teacher by hooking up with a dud. My parents never thought I would curb my wild ways and settle down, so I tried my damnedest to show them they were wrong.
Unfortunately, maybe they had been right after all. I was a free spirit. I loved life and believed it should be lived to the fullest, every second of every day. It was amazing, but short, and we should enjoy it while it was ours.
We all met up in the lobby. It was me, Steph, Kristina, her nurse from the hospital who she had ended up keeping in touch with and becoming great friends with—yeah, I was a little jealous—Pam, her married friend from Des Moines who also used to babysit Remi for her, and her high school friend, Letty. We giggled and shouted as we headed out to the first stop—a male revue at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino.
Steph had laughed and said she didn’t need a male revue because she had her own personal male revue at home, to which I gagged in mock disgust and, truth be told, more than just a little bit of jealousy, because let’s be honest, Reaper was freaking hot and she was a damn lucky girl. My foot went down on this one though, and the rest of the girls backed me up. This was her bachelorette party, and much to Reaper’s displeasure, we were going to drool over some sexy-ass abs and butts. Whooooo-Hooooooo! Hey, not all of us were getting married, and even for the ones who were, they were married, not dead, sheesh.
We were preparing to load up in the limo, which would be followed by Steph’s SUV with the guys in it. That was when I saw him. Fucking hello hotness. Naturally, I had to know. So, I asked, in an oh-so-nonchalant way, who all the guys were. Steph told me his name was Mason, but they called him Hollywood. He was tall, had a freaking kick-ass toned body, dark blond just-been-fucked messy hair, and light hazel eyes. Yum. Oh, and did I mention he was hot? Oh yeah, totally hot. I’m talking lick-every-muscle-on-that-gorgeous-body-head-to-toe hot. Of course, he was chatting up Kristina, which only fueled that little shit-stirring green-eyed monster and made me a little more jealous of her, which really sucked because she was a sweetheart. I felt like such a bitch. A really jealous bitch.
He laughed at something she said, and when I shouted, “Let’s go, girls!” he looked at me for the first time. When our eyes met, my girly parts tingled and my breath caught for a second.
Wow. Did I really just feel that shit?
His eyebrow rose and his eyes slid leisurely up and down my body. Like what you see, sexy? I winked and headed out to the limo, adding a little extra sway to my ass. I had no intention of hooking up with one of Reaper’s friends, but Hollywood was panty-melting hot, and if he was going to look, then, hey…. So I strutted as I approached the limo, sat on the seat just inside the door, and slid my legs in slowly, one at a time. I knew he was watching, and it gave me a sense of empowerment I hadn’t felt in a long while.
Tonight was going to be fun. I planned to find some sexy hunk of anonymous man to scratch my itch, so to speak, and call it a good night. As they say, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. With each sip of my champagne, I felt myself breaking out of the stifling shell I had built around myself over the last few years.
Yes, it was going to be a good night. I could feel it in my bones.
I was so fucking happy for my buddy, Reaper, and his girl, Steph. After all the hell he’d been through, he deserved someone like her. It was crazy that she was the same girl he’d carried around a picture of on that old useless cell phone through our last deployment together. Who would have thought they would find each other again? Some crazy shit. They were fucking insane about each other and had the cutest little girl. Damn, they were gonna be in trouble with that little one someday. I laughed to myself at the thought. Better them than me.
Vegas was a well-deserved and much needed vacation for all the brothers and me. Things had gone well with the drop-off a few months ago, despite shit going down with Reaper’s old lady and him having to miss it all. Thankfully, we hadn’t needed him, but I’d taken over just in case. I was a pretty good fucking shot too, even if I had been his spotter and he was the sniper back in our military days.
We’d been a tight pair when we were together in the Army. Shit, as a sniper team, you had to be. Then, we lost touch for a while after we both got out. Before I left for home, I’d begged him to come back to Iowa with me, but he said he needed to get his head straight first. I figured he would contact me when he was ready, but I never heard from him and his number had been disconnected. So, I followed my plan by beginning the prospect phase with the Demented Sons MC, and a while later, I found him again, thanks to Hacker’s mad skills on the computer. When I went down to Texas to pick up a bike for a customer, I stopped by his place. Fuck, I was glad I got him to come back with me, because honestly, I don’t think that poor bastard would be alive today if I hadn’t. He was a fucking mess. We both had been, but luckily, I had my family and the MC, whereas he’d had no one. I loved him like a blood brother, probably even deeper than my love for the rest of the brothers in the MC. Reaper and I’d been through a lot of shit together, like life-and-death shit overseas. That tended to bring people pretty fucking close.
It was good to see Kristina again. She was witty and funny, and she always made me laugh. She was also fucking smoking, and at one time, I would have loved to have gotten a piece of her gorgeous little ass. Lord knew I chased it for an entire week while Steph was in the hospital and she was Steph’s nurse. Of course, she just laughed and brushed me off every fucking time. It really was a blow to my ego, I’m telling you. When she finally told me she was dating someone though, I backed off, keeping it to harmless flirting. Maybe most guys would have gone after her anyway, but not me. My sister’s husband fucked around on her, and I watched her fall apart and sink into a deep depression before finally dragging herself back out of it. It took her forever to move on after divorcing his stupid ass. I vowed to her that I would never fuck around with a married woman or wreck a relationship—not just because of the hurt it caused, but because it went against the grain. My own personal experience with getting shafted was one I would never put on anyone. Fuck that shit. Which was another reason I shied away from relationships. Too much bullshit.
&nb
sp; When I heard Becca, the maid of honor, round the girls up to leave, I looked over, and holy shit. What a fucking beauty. She looked straight at me, and my heart jumped and sent a current straight to my dick. I grinned at her and gave her “the look” that had never failed me in the past.
She was a straight fucking knockout. I always had a thing for redheads, and she had a deep, rich auburn head of curls that begged to have a man’s hands buried in it. Twisted in it. The thought of those plump, red lips wrapped around my dick made my grin even bigger. As my gaze wandered down over the red dress she’d poured her sexy ass into, I wondered if her tits would pop out if she took too deep of a breath, ’cause I would sure as shit like to be around to see that. She had nice curvy hips that were perfect for grabbing onto when… yeah, sorry, my mind went there. All the time. It was just one of those things I’d never been able to help. Beautiful women were my addiction, and I made sure they were well satisfied when they were with me. She also had toned, tanned legs that I knew would wrap around me perfectly—and could she please leave the heels on while she did it? Damn.
She winked at me, and I knew she saw me checking her fine ass out. I didn’t give a fuck. As she shook that ass and climbed into the limo, the last thing I saw were her long legs sliding in. Jesus. She was stunning, and if it was my lucky night, she would be mine. I felt a “challenge accepted” smirk spread across my face. If I played my cards right, she would be screaming my name by the end of the night. After all, this was Vegas, right?
TRULY, I THOUGHT I’D died and gone to heaven. I’d never had so many hot-as-hell men dancing in front of me, and never dreamed I would have, either. It felt so damn good to be able to let loose and have a good time without having to worry about how people would look at me. It was beginning to make me seriously question my choice of careers. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I loved being an elementary school art teacher and working with all my kids, but I just didn’t know if it was worth completely stifling my personality like I was letting it. Don’t get me wrong. Like I said, I didn’t want to be a whore, by any means. But shit, if I wanted to go out and have a few drinks, I didn’t want to be looking over my shoulder for parents or fearing people would look down their noses at me.
Demented Sons Series Volume One: Books 1-4 (Demented Sons MC Iowa) Page 28
