To Have and to Harley

by Regina Cole

  They both turned and looked at the kitchen doorway, where Mama Yelverton and a somber-looking Sarah stood. Mama held Sarah’s hand, looking from her to Trey as she said, “This is your younger sister, Sarah.”

  “Hi,” Trey said, and for the first time, Bethany thought she saw a crack in that hard-ass facade he’d been presenting.

  It was almost imperceptible, really. But the way his weight shifted before coming back to center, the way his shoulders moved, all seemed to indicate that he’d been knocked off his axis and wasn’t sure how to handle what was coming at him.

  Good. Gold-digging, scum-sucking cheat had it coming. Maybe he did have a conscience and would stop this charade before it went any further.

  “Hello,” Sarah said, her smile a little brittle.

  Silence fell, an awkward, thick quiet that Bethany wasn’t sure she should break. Fortunately, Mama Yelverton stepped into the gap.

  “Well, Bethany, this looks excellent. Should we sit down?”

  “Sure,” Bethany said, pulling out Sarah’s chair before sinking into her own. It looked like her best friend could use the help. Sarah’s expression was a mask of politeness over a darkly confused mix of anger and sadness.

  Bethany wished she could drag her friend from the room and give her some space to process this news before being forced to spend time with this stranger in their midst.

  But in actuality, she was the outlier. The only one who wasn’t—rightly or wrongly—claiming the Yelverton name.

  For a few moments, there was only the clinking of silverware as food was passed and plates were loaded. Bethany kept as close an eye on Trey as she reasonably could.

  He carried himself well enough, she guessed. He didn’t make a giant mess, kept his elbows off the table. Said “thank you” when Sarah passed him the pasta salad. He even kept the olives he picked out of it in a neat little pile on the corner of his plate.

  Hmm. She bit down harder than necessary on her turkey and cheese. He was just a good actor. Had to put on a good show to pull the wool over their eyes.

  “So, Sarah’s about to be a doctor of pharmacy,” Mama Yelverton said, smiling over at her daughter as if oblivious to the brewing storm in that direction. “She graduates this May.”

  “Mom, he doesn’t want to hear about that.”

  “That’s really interesting,” Trey said with a polite nod. Bethany couldn’t help but notice how the tattooed snake climbing up his neck twitched with the movement. It was intimidating and sensuous at the same time.

  Down, girl.

  “And Trey runs a wedding planning company,” Mama Yelverton continued. “It’s such great timing, really. We couldn’t have asked for him to come into our lives again at a better moment. He’s already agreed to help Bethany with the ceremony plans. I thought if Sarah’s still here then, we could all get together tomorrow afternoon and—”

  Sarah’s chair scraped back suddenly. “Hey, Bethany, I think this pasta salad could use more tomato.”

  Mama Yelverton frowned down at her plate. “I think it’s fine, Sarah.”

  “No, it definitely could,” Sarah said, grabbing the bowl. “Beth, can you come and help me?”

  “Absolutely,” Bethany said, tossing her napkin down beside her plate and hustling toward the kitchen after her best friend.

  She glanced over her shoulder before shutting the dining-room door. Trey’s face had gone stony, his strong jaw tight.

  Good. Let him notice how his sudden appearance has rocked things. Let him realize that Easy Street isn’t a real place.

  Once they were alone, she turned her full attention to her best friend. “Are you okay?” Bethany rubbed Sarah’s back. Sarah’s palms were splayed on the countertop, her hair hanging down as she faced the floor.

  “I just don’t know how to process this,” Sarah said, her voice a little thick. “Mom is so freaking happy. I just… I’m happy too. But he’s so…different than I’d pictured him.”

  “I know,” Bethany said, rubbing small circles on Sarah’s back.

  “Honestly, I’d felt like Dad was right. That he was dead, and searching for him was just a way for Mom to put off processing the grief. And for him to show up like this? Right before the wedding? Mom said that the DNA test proved it, but…I don’t know.”

  Sarah turned, and Bethany was stunned to see the sheen of tears in Sarah’s eyes.

  Her best friend never cried. Ever.

  “Bethy, I’m so sorry to ask you this. But right now I can’t afford to be distracted. With finals and then the NAPLEX licensing exam, it’s too much. I have to focus. I know things are different since you agreed to make decisions for my wedding, but with him”—Sarah nodded toward the dining room—“it’s even tougher. Can you please work with him? For me? For Mom?”

  Of course the answer would be yes, but Bethany’s thoughts went deeper than that.

  She knew he was lying about the wedding planning business. No way in heck did that huge, muscle-bound, tattooed biker plan weddings for a living. If she worked with him, maybe she could get some proof and show it to Mama Yelverton before Trey got his hooks even farther into her. DNA or no DNA, this guy was lying about his job if nothing else.

  It was a good plan. Noble, even. She felt sure that her dad would have approved.

  “Of course I will,” Beth said and hugged Sarah hard. “Everything’s going to be fine. Trust me.”

  “I do,” Sarah whispered.

  Bethany closed her eyes and held her best friend. Her family.

  This bastard wasn’t going to hurt them. Not even over Bethany’s dead body.

  Chapter Five

  When Trey’s bike rumbled into the lot at Ruby’s that night, he had a helluva lot on his mind.

  The family he’d just found. The welcome his mother had given him. The loss of a father he’d never known. The standoffishness of his new sister. And the sexy surprise who was the best friend.

  Not to mention the freaking polka-dotted elephant in the room. The one that was wearing a poufy white dress in a church full of flowers.

  This was not gonna be fun. He jammed his hands in his pockets as he pushed through the doors.

  “Hey there, Boss,” Ace called from the corner where Jameson was racking up a new game of pool. “Want to join?”

  “Not now,” Trey said, drawing himself up to his full height. “We need to circle up. I’ve got something to tell you all.”

  “Big job?” Ace’s voice was full of curiosity. It wasn’t like Trey to call a meeting of everyone at one time.

  “Something like that,” Trey rumbled before glowering at them. “Get the rest of the boys and come outside.”

  Ace and Jameson nodded as Trey turned on his heel and walked back out into the night.

  Pacing in the parking lot, Trey tried to plan his words. Nope. There was nothing he could couch this in that would make it sound any less ridiculous.

  Maybe he should just come clean with his mother at the meeting tomorrow. Tell her he’d lied straight out of his ass to impress her.

  But the image of her face as she’d talked about how proud she was haunted him, and he knew he couldn’t break her heart already. Not when things were so new, so fragile.

  He’d never known that a mother like her existed, and he didn’t want to lose her now.

  “We’re here, Boss.”

  Wolf’s voice snapped Trey out of his reverie, and he walked back to the concrete pad where twelve bikes sat, looking like shiny jungle cats leaning to the side, ready to pounce.

  Eleven hard-eyed killers looked back at him, ready to go anywhere and do anything he asked of them.

  They were loyal. They’d sworn the same oath Trey had. To keep their brotherhood strong, to protect their turf, to look out for their own.

  He’d never imagined that he’d be asking them to do something like this.
>
  “Okay,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket for his smartphone. He opened the notes app where he’d jotted down ideas earlier. “Wolf, you’re on venue, with Lars and Rocco for backup.”

  Wolf nodded, and the two others moved behind him. Trey cleared his throat and continued.

  “Jameson, you and Hawk are down for flowers. Ace, Dean, and Flash, I want you on fashion. Dresses, tuxes, all that crap. Mac—”

  “Wait a minute, Boss. Flowers? Tuxes? What the hell kind of job is this?”

  Ace was the one that spoke up, but when Trey looked, every single one of his bikers was giving him an eyeball hairier than Pistol’s ass.

  He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Clearing his throat, he tried again.

  “We’re… Uh-hum. We’re going to be planning a wedding.”

  You could have plopped a Harley Cosmic Starship down in front of that crew and seen less shock on their faces.

  “Do…do what now?” Ace stuttered.

  “You heard me, assholes. Wedding. Now, Mac, Doc, and Stone, you three are on the food. The booze, the cake, the whole shebang. I’ll be overseeing everything and organizing everything else.”

  Wolf was suddenly beside him. “Boss, we need to talk.”

  “Not now, Wolf. We don’t have much time. Go do some research. I need some information by noon tomorrow.”

  “How?” Dean asked, his normally furrowed brow narrowing even farther. “I don’t know anything about wedding dresses.”

  “Why do I give a damn how you do it? Get on the internet, go to the fucking library, get a book. Get out of here. You’re wasting time.”

  Trey realized it probably wasn’t fair to take out his worry and frustration on the Shadows, but damn it, he didn’t know what else to do.

  One by one, the bikers disappeared. Some of them back into Ruby’s, others onto their bikes with some questioning glances back toward Trey and Wolf, who was still standing beside Trey.

  Once they were alone, Trey took a deep breath and let some of the starch out of his spine. “I know. Go ahead. Let me have it.” He sank onto the curb that ran the length of the building.

  “What is going on, Boss?” Wolf’s voice held no judgment, just a major dose of curiosity. “You being blackmailed or something?”

  “She’s an angel.” Trey groaned, covering his face with his hand. Scrubbing down his chin, the bristles of his stubble scratching against his palm, he sighed. “My mother. She started a community center for homeless kids and runaways and named it after me. She’s like a real-life saint. How could I tell her that my day job is chasing drug dealers and shaking down cheating bookies?”

  Wolf sank onto the curb beside Trey, saying nothing. He didn’t have to. His presence was the kind that invited confidence.

  “She asked me what I did, and I panicked. There was a wedding magazine, and the lie just came out.” Trey shook his head. “The Iron Knot. What kind of name is that for a wedding planning service?”

  There wasn’t much warning. A little movement in the corner of Trey’s eye. The soft intake of breath.

  And then Wolf was down on the concrete, legs drawn up as he howled with laughter.

  Anger sparked in Trey’s chest and had his fists clenching.

  “You…you told her…the Shadows were wedding…pla…planners? Oh Jesus,” Wolf gasped between fits, clutching his ribs and rolling.

  “You questioning my authority?” Trey snapped at his second, whose legs were in the air like a dog with an itchy back.

  “I can’t…” Wolf gasped, tears trickling down his cheeks. “I can’t…”

  Trey took the two steps that separated them, intending to grab the front of Wolf’s shirt, haul him to his feet, and beat the hell out of him.

  But then he met his second’s eyes.

  The ridiculousness of the situation hit him like a baseball square between the eyes. Trey’s hands fell, the corners of his lips lifted, and then he was laughing as hard as Wolf.

  “Jameson out picking daisies for bouquets.” Wolf’s face was bright red.

  “Ace modeling bridesmaid dresses.” Trey’s shoulders shook.

  “Mac scattering flower petals over a big, white cake.” Wolf’s voice was a wheeze.

  “Rocco with a little pillow for the rings.” Trey’s ribs hurt.

  “Lars and Flash can sing a duet.”

  “‘Endless Love’?”

  “Which one’s Diana Ross?”

  “It’d have to be Lars. But we’ll have to remove his nuts to get him to hit those high notes.”

  “Rocco can just keep them in the pillow.”

  They both laughed until they couldn’t laugh anymore.

  Wiping tears from his eyes, Wolf sat up, propping his arms atop his knees. “Boss, you’ve asked us to do some crazy things, but never anything like this.”

  Trey sighed. “I know. Think the guys will ever forgive me?”

  Wolf quirked a half smile. “Doesn’t matter. You’re the boss. We’ll do anything you ask. Even if it’s stupid as hell.” He stood. “I’m going home. Pistol needs her dinner, and I’ve got to figure out what a wedding venue looks like.”

  Trey lifted his fist. Wolf pounded it, and then he slung his leg over his bike and rode away.

  As the sound of Wolf’s engine faded into the night, Trey looked up at the stars.

  He’d needed that laugh. That release. The tension of the day had been incredible, and not knowing how the Shadows would react to his scheme had made it all worse.

  He’d known this would be a tough sell. But he needed it to work.

  Maybe, just maybe, he could show his mother that he was worth the kindness she’d already shown him. Giving him a reason to hope was worth the aggravation.

  * * *

  Bethany’s morning was spent preparing her arsenal.

  First, her armor. Her hair took ages to curl, and her makeup was more carefully applied than her usual application of a little BB cream and some mascara. Her clothes were selected with care: a sleek-looking pair of slacks paired with a high-necked silky top. Stockings. Heels. She was dressed to get business done.

  No mistake, she was as polished and professional as she’d ever been.

  Looking good and feeling confident, she turned her attention to the meeting to come.

  Her list of questions took almost as long to prepare as her appearance had, but that was worth it too. She didn’t expect this to take that long. Exposing Trey’s lie would be laughably easy, she presumed.

  No way in hell would the guy know anything about dresses and flowers and photographers. Get him out of the way, and then she and Mama Yelverton could focus on making Sarah’s wedding day as perfect and stress-free as possible. Sarah had hightailed it back to school, and Bethany couldn’t blame her.

  She could handle this.

  With her list of questions tucked into her leather folio, Bethany climbed into her car and made the short drive to Mama Yelverton’s, singing with the radio all the way.

  It was good to feel useful.

  Happy to see that the motorcycle from yesterday wasn’t there yet, Bethany hurried into the house to set up camp.

  “Afternoon,” Mama Yelverton sang out from the study. “I’ll be right there.”

  “It’s just me,” Bethany said, setting her folio on the coffee table. “Want me to get some snacks ready?”

  “No, thank you, dear. I’ve already done that. My, don’t you look extra pretty today.” Mama Yelverton dropped a kiss on Bethany’s cheek as she smiled a welcome. “What’s the occasion?”

  Bethany patted Mama Yelverton’s arm. “Just felt like looking nice today is all.”

  As Mama Yelverton disappeared into the kitchen, Bethany eyed the seats in the living room. No, too casual. She wanted Trey to feel under scrutiny, as if she was putting him in the hot seat—whi
ch she was.

  “Can we set up in the dining room? I think it would be good to use the table.”

  “If you think so, that’s fine with me,” Mama Yelverton called from the kitchen.

  Nodding, Bethany scooped up her folio and the pile of pictures and magazines Mama Yelverton had left on the coffee table.

  She took all but three chairs away from the big oak dining table. Two of them on one side, one sitting right by its lonesome on the other.

  There. Like a job interview, which was how Bethany fully intended to treat it.

  Trey had to prove himself, and she and Mama Yelverton were the jury. Her father had always told her to trust her gut, and her gut did not trust that smooth-talking, too-handsome roughneck bastard.

  But he did notice how upset you were and cared enough to ask… that traitorous part of her whispered.

  The doorbell rang.

  “Bethany, I’ve got soapy hands. Can you get that?”

  “No problem.”

  Bethany cracked her knuckles on the way to the front door, anticipation quickening her step.

  This was it. She was ready.

  The door swung open, and she swayed on her Ferragamos, purchased with her now-defunct Hudson’s employee discount. “Sweet Jesus,” she said breathlessly.

  He’d transformed. Well, not totally.

  His hair was still too long, but it was styled in a carefully tousled way. Instead of a black T-shirt, he wore a dark-gray button-down, open enough at the throat for her to see more of his impressive tattoos. His dark jeans were neat, his boots looked clean, and his leather jacket was slung over one shoulder, giving him the look of a J.Crew model on steroids.

  “Hello,” he said and leaned forward.

  Without thinking, she tilted her head up to accept his kiss.

  Her lids fluttered closed just as the lightest brush of his lips touched her…cheek.

  “Still too soon for a real kiss,” he said teasingly as he drew back. “Buy me a drink first.”

  Her mouth fell open, but a retort was nowhere to be found.

  “Can I come in?”

  Wordlessly, she stepped back to allow him entry. He strode into the foyer as if he owned the place.