Chapter 19
BECCA
Bridge night with Aunt Margie and her crew was supposed to be chill.
Cozy. Something soft and warm while the snow came down thick outside, already icing over the sidewalks.
Margie and I had walked over with a thermos of spiked cider and a box of holiday sugar cookies.
I was wearing a chunky knit sweater, thick socks, and the last of my mascara from work. I wasn't expecting fireworks.
But damn, the tension hit as soon as we stepped into Lorraine's house. The place was decked out in a blizzard of tinsel and holiday kitsch, and the charcuterie boards were overflowing with more cheese than conversation. Until they weren’t.
The wine was flowing. The peppermint schnapps made everyone bold. And the gossip? Brutal. Harmless at first—who was getting divorced, who dyed their dog green for Christmas. Then someone mentioned the motorcycle club. And Bear.
"Well," said Loretta, the type who smiled with her teeth but not her eyes, "my niece Jessica dated him this summer. Had him wrapped around her little finger until he ghosted her."
I blinked.
"Oh?" I said lightly, trying not to flinch.
Margie cut her eyes toward me like a warning shot, but it was too late.
"You’re dating him now, aren’t you?" Loretta asked, loud enough to make three heads turn.
I sipped my wine. "I am."
That was the spark. Cards forgotten, wine glasses refilled. Jess herself showed up half an hour later, blowing in with snow in her hair and a red lip that screamed war. I got the once-over from her, head to boots.
"Didn't realize Bear liked repeats," she said, tossing her gloves onto the table.
"He doesn't," I said sweetly. "Guess that makes me the upgrade."
The room went dead silent. Then Margie coughed to cover her laugh, and Lorraine nearly choked on a cheese cube.
From there? Game on.
The bridge game turned cutthroat. Jess sat across from me like we were dueling at dawn, throwing shade with every card she laid down. Loretta kept sighing like she'd lost the lottery twice. And the rest of the ladies? Jealous.
Not just because of Bear.
Because I was glowing.
Because for once, I wasn’t the woman left behind or overlooked. I was the one he picked. The one he was picking still.
Even if he wasn’t here tonight, his shadow was.
And damn if it didn’t feel good to be the woman it followed.
My phone buzzed against my thigh. Bear.
Sorry I had to cut our day short. Club business. You okay?
I smirked. In hell. lol jk. Game night.
Where? he replied.
Lorraine's. It's bridge night with Margie.
Share your location.
I did. Forty minutes later, the front door creaked open, and in walked Bear—leather kutte, boots, snow still dusted across his shoulders. Jinx and Pico flanked him like bodyguards. The whole room went still.
"Deal me in," Jinx grinned, snatching a peppermint bark off the dessert tray.
The ladies swooned. Some were definitely jealous. Others? Straight-up mad. Jess looked like she bit into a lemon.
Bear didn’t care. He walked straight to me, wrapped those strong arms around my waist, and kissed me right there in front of everyone. Deep. Possessive. The kind of kiss you don’t mistake for anything casual.
"You guys crashing ladies night?" someone joked, fanning herself.
Bear popped a grape into his mouth like he owned the place. "Yep."
I couldn’t stop smiling, even if I felt everyone watching.
He was mine. And right now? He didn’t care who knew it.
Then the lights flickered.
Twice.
And blinked out completely.
A beat of silence. Then someone gasped. Another cursed. Jinx held up his phone flashlight.
"Looks like we’re in for it," Margie muttered.
"Ten inches expected by morning," one of the ladies said.
Jinx grinned and winked at Margie. "Sleepover at your place?"
"Oh my," Margie flushed as the ladies fanned themselves with napkins and playing cards.
Lorraine cut in fast. "Margie’s place is too small. I’ve got room. Girls, let’s—"
Jess used the confusion to slide up next to Bear, her arm brushing his. "Long night. Need a ride, Bear?"
I stiffened.
He didn’t even look at her.
"I'm taking my girls home," he said, voice steel. He wrapped one arm around me, the other around Margie.
Jess stood frozen. A few ladies gasped. Others blinked in surprise.
Jinx casually swiped the nearest charcuterie board like it was a prize he’d earned. "Thanks for the hospitality," he said with a wink.
Pico opened the door, letting in a rush of cold air.
"Night, ladies," Bear said.
And just like that, we peaced out. Me tucked against his side, heart pounding. His warmth at my back, the storm ahead, and a smug kind of fire lighting me from within.
Outside, snow was still falling thick. Pico had swiped the peppermint schnapps on the way out and was drinking it straight from the bottle as our unlikely group trudged back toward Margie's place.
I waited until Bear's head turned and pelted him square in the back with a snowball.
He stopped. Slowly turned. And grinned.
Next thing I knew, it was war. Pure chaos. Snowballs flying. Jinx yelling like a kid. Pico cackling like a madman. Even Margie got in on it, shrieking as she ducked behind her rosebushes for cover.
Bear tackled me into a snowbank, both of us laughing so hard we couldn't breathe. His weight pressed me down, his body shielding mine from the cold. Then his laughter died away, and his mouth was on mine—hot, hungry, claiming.
The world around us blurred. I didn’t care about the cold or the others. Not when I could feel him, hard and thick between us, even through his jeans. His kiss deepened, stealing every thought from my head.
We were still breathless when we made it to Margie's. Jinx got a fire roaring while Bear and Pico hooked up the generator. Margie and I pulled out blankets and made up the couch.
"I call couch," Pico said.
"Sleeping bag by the fire for me," Jinx chimed in. Then, to Margie with a wink: "Unless you want to split the guest bed."
Margie turned so red I thought she might faint.
Bear threw his arm around me and declared, "I'm staying with Becca."
No one argued. But no one went to bed just yet either. The fire crackled, the schnapps made its rounds, and for one strange, snowy night—we were all just a little family, warm and wild and together.
The snow fell thick and relentless outside Margie’s house, blanketing the world in silence.
Inside, the air was warm, heavy with the scent of woodsmoke and peppermint schnapps.
Pico, sprawled across the couch like he owned it, clutched the stolen bottle, taking a swig and grinning like a fool.
Jinx, all lean muscle and restless energy, was sprawled on a sleeping bag by the fire, his laughter sharp as he recounted pelting Margie with a snowball earlier.
“Shoulda seen her face, man—thought she was gonna chase me with a shovel!” he crowed, his voice carrying over the crackle of the flames.
Margie, cheeks still flushed from the cold and Jinx’s relentless teasing, bustled about with a tray of cocoa mugs.
“Don’t you dare break anything in my house, Jinx,” she warned, but her eyes sparkled, betraying her amusement.
I caught her stealing a glance at Jinx, who winked back, all cocky charm, and she turned scarlet, muttering about “troublemakers” as she set the tray down.
Bear’s arm was a warm weight around my shoulders, his fingers brushing my arm in a way that sent sparks skittering across my skin.
His eyes, dark and molten, kept finding mine, and every look felt like a promise—one I wasn’t sure I could handle in Margie’s creaky old house with everyone just down the hall.
“Alright, heathens,” Margie said, brushing her hands on her apron. “Cocoa’s hot, so don’t burn your tongues. And don’t you dare spill on my rugs.” She shot Pico a pointed look as he raised his mug in a lazy toast.
“To Margie, queen of rosebushes and sugar-bomb cocoa!” Pico declared, gulping it down and wincing. “Damn, this is like drinking a candy cane.”
“Sweetens the soul,” Margie quipped, and we all laughed, even Bear, his deep chuckle vibrating against my side.
The night wore on, the schnapps making its rounds as stories flew.
Jinx bragged about a bar brawl he’d won with a pool cue and a mean right hook, his hands gesturing wildly.
Pico countered with a story about outrunning a blizzard on a hot-wired snowmobile, swearing he was a hero.
Margie, loosened by a sip of schnapps, admitted to sneaking into her neighbor’s shed for “emergency” firewood one winter and getting caught on a ringcam— we howled, Jinx clapping like she’d pulled off a heist.
Eventually, the fire’s warmth and the liquor’s buzz had us yawning.
Jinx stretched out on his sleeping bag, muttering about dreaming of bourbon.
Pico claimed the couch, one leg dangling off as he started snoring almost instantly.
Margie gave us a fond, slightly exasperated look before heading to her room, the door clicking shut.
Bear’s hand found mine, his grip firm as he pulled me toward the guest room.
My heart pounded, the memory of his kiss in the snowbank—hot, hungry, claiming—still burning through me.
The hallway was dim, the fire’s glow barely reaching us, and when we hit the guest room door, Bear stopped, turning to pin me against the wall with a look that made my knees weak.
His eyes were dark lava, smoldering with intent.
“Becca,” he growled, voice low and rough, “you sure about this? Margie’s house ain’t exactly soundproof.” His hand slid to my hip, fingers digging in just enough to make my breath hitch.
I swallowed, heat flooding my cheeks as I thought of the thin walls, the creaky bed, the others so close.
“They’ll hear us,” I whispered, half-laughing, half-pleading, my hands pressing against his chest. His heartbeat thundered under my palms, steady and strong, and I felt the hard ridge of him through his jeans, pressing against me.