Epilogue
Lila
Within three days, Pretty Boy had a cut made up for me, with Property of Pretty Boy across the back. When I was closing the boutique for the day, he pulled up to the curb in his truck, eager to present it to me.
“You don’t let the grass grow under your feet, do you?” I said, amused as I unfolded the cut and held it up.
“Well, you did say you would let another man marry you if I didn’t move fast enough. So, here I am.”
He took the cut from me and held it out so I could slide it on. It fit like a glove, with warm, smooth leather, and a comforting weight across my shoulders.
“Let me guess,” I said. “We’re going to the clubhouse so you can show me off.”
He grinned. My heart skipped at the sight of that smile. Fuck, he looked so good, I just wanted to sink my teeth into him.
“Can you blame me?” he replied. “You're fucking gorgeous."
I batted my lashes at him and gave him a little twirl, making sure to turn slowly so he got a good, long look at my ass.
“Damn it, baby, you’re killing me,” he groaned.
I laughed and slid my arms around his middle, smiling as I kissed him. He sighed against my mouth, cupping the back of my head to hold me in place for a few seconds longer.
After Pretty Boy got me settled into the passenger seat, he headed for the clubhouse. It was an unseasonably warm evening in late May, so I rolled down my window and let the wind spill through my fingers.
“Have you thought about what bike you’d like to get to replace your old one?” I asked. “As the President of the Reckless Order, you can’t ride around in a truck all the time.”
Pretty Boy shook his head.
“You can’t plan that sort of thing. I’ll know it when I see it. Kind of like a gut instinct type of deal.”
I brushed my windblown hair out of my eyes and squinted at him playfully.
“Ah, yes. The super special relationship between a man and his motorcycle. Should I be jealous?”
He chuckled and offered his hand palm up to me.
“Absolutely not, sweetheart. You’re the only woman I’ve ever proposed to. And you carry my name on your back. My bike might take me where I want to go. But you are the woman I come home to.”
I hummed and placed my hand in his.
“Good answer.”
When we arrived at the clubhouse, Ironside had pulled out the barbecue, puffing away on a cigar while he cooked. He deposited thick slabs of steak onto a tray, held by Brass.
“Perfect timing, you two,” Ironside said, lifting his barbecue tongs in acknowledgement. “The food is fresh off the grill, hot and juicy.”
I kissed his cheek as we passed.
“It smells delicious, Ironside. When are you going to move in and be my personal cook, keeping me fat and happy for the rest of my life?”
Pretty Boy cleared his throat.
“What about me?”
I shrugged with a smirk and kissed his cheek, too.
“You are going to keep me busy in the bedroom,” I whispered.
Pretty Boy perked up and swatted my ass lightly.
“In that case, I have no objection to this arrangement.”
Ironside heaved a beleaguered sigh.
“You know, I hate growing old. But there are times when I’m looking forward to losing my hearing. Then I won’t have to listen to you two and your nauseating foreplay that makes my ears bleed.”
I laughed and opened the clubhouse door, standing back to let Brass through with the food.
While everyone grabbed a steak and took their seats, Pretty Boy grasped my hand and let out a piercing whistle. All heads turned to look at him.
“Gentlemen,” he said. “I have an announcement to make. I’ve asked Lila to marry me. And she said yes.”
A deafening roar of cheers, wolf whistles, and howls filled the room to congratulate us. When the noise finally died down, Trooper grabbed Shea’s hand and held it up, presenting the sapphire ring on her finger.
“You’re not the only one who’s gettin’ hitched, brother. Shea said yes, too!”
Everyone had seen that coming a mile away, waiting on pins and needles for Trooper to finally make his move. Another round of cheers and whistles and applause rose into the air. I wrapped my best friend in a bone-crushing hug, eager to share this excitement together.
Then I found myself scooped up into a bear hug by Dad, squeezing me so tightly that I could have sworn he would crack my ribs and break my spine.
“I hope he makes you the happiest woman in the world, sweetie,” he said. “And if he doesn’t, just say the word and I’ll put the fear of God into him.”
I smiled, burying my face in his shoulder.
“Thank you, Dad. But don’t scare him off. My personality alone is a lot to handle already.”
He scoffed.
“That kid isn’t going anywhere. He’s head over heels for you.”
Ironside poured a celebratory whiskey for everyone, passing glasses around the room for adults. Jenny gave the kids juice boxes from her massive purse to make them feel included.
“There seems to be a marriage bug going around,” Ironside said. “First Tarzan gets infected with it. Then Trooper wasn’t far behind. And now Pretty Boy has fallen.” He clucked his tongue, shaking his head. “It’s a tragedy, I tell you. A goddamn tragedy.”
Pretty Boy accepted the glass of whiskey he offered and punched him lightly in the shoulder.
“Come on, old man. Don’t you want to tie the knot and settle down?”
“I think you’ll be hard pressed to find a woman who will tolerate my cantankerous moods. I’ve been a bachelor too long. I’m set in my ways.”
“I could set you up with someone,” Keely called from across the room.
Jenny piped up. “There are a bunch of single ladies at my church who are sick of dating apps. They would love to meet you!”
Ironside glared at Pretty Boy.
“Do you see what you’ve done? You’ve thrown me to the wolves. I’ll never know peace again.”
Pretty Boy chuckled. Then he raised his glass to the room.
“Does anyone want to take bets that Ironside will be the next one among us to find his Old Lady?”
Hades raised his glass in return.
“A hundred bucks says that he will remain a bachelor for life.”
Brass raised his glass, too.
“I’ll put my money on marriage.”
The room seemed to be evenly split—half of the club believed Ironside would cave, while others believed he would remain unchanged and single, smoking his cigars, drinking his bourbon, and keeping the younger members of the club in line.
Ironside tipped his head back, beseeching the heavens for patience.
“It’s comforting to know my love life amuses you dipshits.”
As I ate my steak, I glanced around the room, and understanding seemed to finally sink in. So much of my life had changed in such a short amount of time.
Dad’s heart attack and ensuing hospital visit. The ordeal with Sweeney. Discovering Pretty Boy and I had mutual feelings for each other, despite my best attempts to resist accepting that reality.
Now, Dad had retired. I was practically engaged. And Pretty Boy wore the President patch on his chest.
But through it all, I still had this club and the people in it. My family, my home.
No matter what came our way, no matter what the future held, we would face it together.
As the evening wore on, Pretty Boy draped his arm across the back of my chair, idly tracing his fingertips along the nape of my neck or down my shoulder.
I studied his profile while he talked with Hades and Psycho about what, I didn’t know, and I didn’t care.
I was too busy memorizing the square angle of his jawline, the ridge of his nose, and the faint laugh lines beginning to start crinkling around his eyes.
I didn’t see any sign of gray in his chocolate brown locks, but I looked forward to the day when I did find them. Watching him grow old alongside me.
For the longest time, I resented him for exactly this—the potential he carried within himself to become a leader, a man that everyone would one day rely on and look to for guidance and strength.
How ironic that the thing I resented him for was now the thing I admired about him.
Then Pretty Boy leaned over, nuzzling against my ear.
“Lila, honey, you have to stop looking at me like that. I can’t pop a fucking boner in this room full of people.”
I cackled softly and skimmed my hand along his thigh. He hissed a breath through his teeth, grabbing my wrist.
“Would it help if I told you the color of panties I’m wearing?”
A muscle clenched in Pretty Boy’s jaw. He growled, low and menacing as he kissed my neck.
“No. It would not.”
“You can guess, if you want,” I offered.
“Goddamn it, Lila,” he groaned. Then after a pause, “Hot pink?”
“Nope. Try again.”
He thought about it for a moment.
“Powder blue?”
I shook my head, biting the inside of my cheek to hide a smile. It was so fun to torture him.
He grumbled and shifted in his seat, trying to tug unobtrusively at the tightness in his jeans.
“Red? Black? No, wait—purple?”
"Wrong again." I nipped at his earlobe. Pretty Boy groaned and his eyes slid closed. “Do you give up?”
“Yes,” he said immediately. “Yes, I do. I give up. I wave the white flag of surrender. Have fucking mercy on me, woman.”
I laughed, kissing the curve of his neck.
“It’s a trick question,” I whispered. “Because I’m not wearing any panties.”
“Fuck,” Pretty Boy mumbled. He shoved his chair back, pulling me to my feet. “That’s it. Time to take you home. Good-night, everyone!”
We stumbled into the parking lot, tripping over each other in our rush. I bumped against him, breathless with laughter. He hummed as he kissed me, sliding his arms around my waist.
“This has to be a dream, right?” he said.
I shook my head.
“It’s real. Very, very real.”
“You said yes.”
I grinned from ear to ear.
“I said yes.”
“And you’re not having second thoughts?” Pretty Boy prompted. “You’re not thinking about changing your mind?”
I draped my arms around his neck, bringing our bodies flush together.
“Nope. You’re stuck with my crazy. I hope you know what you’re getting into.”
Pretty Boy smoothed his hands down my back, cupping my ass as he kissed me.
“I do. And I can’t fucking wait.”