Chapter Thirteen
Juliet
Morning came early.
Ride day.
I rolled onto my side and stared at the empty space beside me, the sheets still warm where Asher had been not long ago.
He’d left before dawn, whispering that Maze would be outside waiting for me.
He had been quiet and deliberate as he pressed a kiss to my hair before pulling on his boots like he didn’t want to wake me but also didn’t want to leave without being felt.
I’d lain there afterward, listening to his footsteps fade, replaying the night we’d shared in fragments that still made my stomach flip.
Then reality had nudged its way back in.
Flowers. Bikes. People. A hundred moving parts that didn’t care how little sleep I’d gotten or how warm my body still felt remembering his hands. Maze outside waiting for me.
I dressed quickly, pulling on layers and tying my hair back with practiced ease. Coffee barely registered as it went down. By the time I stepped outside, the air was crisp and sharp, the kind that made everything feel clearer and more important.
Maze stood by the van.
“Are you my escort?” I called to him.
He was a rougher version of Asher. Same cut and worn jeans, but not my Asher.
That stopped me for a second.
Asher was mine. My Asher. Wow.
“Here to get you and these flowers to the ride,” he said. He opened the passenger door of the van, and I climbed in.
Maze wasn’t much of a talker, but I was okay with that. We made it to the staging area for the ride, and it was already alive and filling up with bikes.
Engines idled. Voices carried. Bikes lined up in neat rows that stretched far. Black and chrome and steel catching the early light.
Asher was already there.
I spotted him immediately, moving through the crowd with that steady authority that didn’t demand attention but always commanded it. He was checking riders in, scanning names against lists, eyes flicking from face to bike and back again.
He looked… good.
Too good.
Leather jacket zipped, shoulders squared, hair pulled back. I felt heat bloom low in my stomach, unhelpful and insistent, and forced myself to look away before my thoughts wandered too far into last night.
Focus, Juliet.
I rolled the van doors open and got to work.
The first few bikes went smoothly. Muscle memory took over. Wrap, secure, adjust, step back, check balance. Red and white blooms softened steel without hiding it, exactly the way I’d envisioned. Riders watched curiously at first, then with growing pride as they saw how it looked on their bikes.
I stole glances when I could.
Asher caught one and lifted a brow slightly, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. Heat climbed my neck.
By the tenth bike, the line had grown.
By the fifteenth, I was moving fast but starting to feel it. My arms ached, and my fingers were numb from the cold. Bikes began backing up, riders waiting patiently but watching the clock.
I wiped my hands on my jeans and exhaled.
“Asher,” I called.
He looked over instantly. “Yeah?”
“I’m going to need help.”
He crossed the space in long strides, Blaze and Cookie falling in behind him like it was instinct.
“What do you need?” Blaze asked.
I grabbed a finished arrangement and demonstrated quickly how to anchor the ties, where to place the weight so it didn’t throw the handlebars off, and how to make it secure without damaging leather or paint.
Cookie nodded, already reaching for the next bundle. “Got it.”
Blaze smirked. “Flowers. I can handle flowers.”
Asher watched closely, eyes following my hands. “This tight?”
“Not too tight,” I corrected. “You want secure, not strangled.”
His mouth twitched. “Story of my life.”
I shot him a look. Cookie snorted.
Once they started helping, everything sped up.
The line moved. The pressure eased. The fleet transformed bike by bike into something striking. Hard edges softened by color.
By noon, we were done.
Every bike registered. Every handlebar adorned. The van empty behind us.
I stepped back, hands on my hips, and took it all in.
The group gathered at the head of the formation looked like something out of a photo spread. Badass and bold with flowers sprinkled through like a statement no one could ignore.
Asher stood near the front with Moore, Cookie, and Blaze nearby, the club’s presence unmistakable.
My chest tightened with something like pride.
My job was done.
I moved toward Asher, already forming the words in my head. “Hey,” I called. “I should head back to the shop,” I said, practical instinct kicking in. “Jenna and Jackie will be swamped with pickups.”
Before I could take a step, Asher reached for my hand.
Just like that, his fingers laced with mine, firm and warm. I froze.
He didn’t pull me closer yet. Just held my hand like it belonged there.
“Ride with me,” he said.
The world seemed to narrow around us.
I blinked. “What?”
Moore, standing a few feet away, barked out a short laugh. “Damn,” he said. “Shit really is serious with you two.”
He shook his head, amused, and walked off like he’d just seen confirmation of something he’d already suspected.
Asher didn’t look away from me. Didn’t release my hand.
He stepped closer then. Close enough that I could feel him. Close enough that the rest of the riders definitely noticed. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest without hesitation. Not hiding. Not cautious.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
He leaned down slightly. “Ride with me,” he repeated.
I swallowed. “Are you sure?”
His eyes were steady. Certain. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”