Page 44 of Blue-Eyed Jacks (Destroyers MC: Skilletsville PA #1)

Sprout swore he’d never dreamed that his lake house wasn’t big enough for a party.

Against my wishes, Jackson pulled out all the stops and invited every chapter in the region to our wedding.

He conned Sprout into erecting a series of tents on the outdoor gun range to handle the overflow.

The largest of them was where Jackson held court.

And in doing so, placed me at his side to meet every member from every club, their ol’ lady—if they had one, and the children.

Numerous children.

At a biker party.

They ranged in age from a few months to almost adult.

I glanced at Zoe. She looked beautiful today in her tea-length, plum-colored bridesmaid dress. A few roses in my bouquet matched that deep shade of purple. Zoe’s idea. The black ones were Jackson’s. Since we didn’t know if he was joking or not, we ran with the concept.

The rest of the wedding was a group effort. The Hagerstown chapter had talented event organizers and chefs in their arsenal of wives, and that complimented Danielle’s vision for my wedding. And a post-wedding party befitting the new regional president.

Of course, the guest list was all Jackson’s fault. I couldn’t argue with him inviting the Destroyers, now could I? I put my foot down about one thing—the ring.

He wanted a gaudy diamond-encrusted tribute to the skulled Destroyers patch. I said no, remembering the fake diamond Shock stuck on my hand. Simple was my directive. Nothing flashy, nothing gaudy. Real was the only other stipulation.

Jackson complied with the engagement ring, up to a point. The three-carat diamond caught on everything. I almost made him return it. He argued he couldn’t, as Nonno gifted it to him in apology for what he did.

I had it appraised just to see what an apology from the head of the Destroyers Club was worth.

Apparently, at least thirty grand. In retrospect, I should have carried on believing it was a fake.

But I’d worn it every day since, except for today.

Jackson took it back to have it set inside a ring guard I hadn’t seen yet.

I fiddled with my bare finger while I waited for the cheers to die down so I could hear my music cue signaling me to walk the gauntlet of black leather coats, beards, and scattered dress clothes. But the noise wasn’t stopping.

Gina motioned for me to start despite the ruckus. She stood by Zoe, the only other person I wanted at my side, as I said my vows. Without her, neither Zoe nor I would be here.

Sprout stood to Jackson’s left, being his mother’s escort for the day.

Beside him, Bear looked completely out of place in his designer suit, braided mohawk, piercings, and tattoos.

I didn’t ask them to wear suits; they did that on their own.

The three men matched with soft gray linen summer dress wear and pristine white shirts.

Not one of them wore a tie. Apparently, ties were against some biker code.

Jackson tipped his head with a lifted eyebrow as if to say, “Getting cold feet, lady?”

I sent him one right back, which made him smile.

Resolute, I took that first step forward.

The whole way down the aisle, Jackson’s men pumped the crowd to holler, cheer, whistle, or make noise. It was daunting, to say the least.

I finally got to my place at Jackson’s side. That was when the crowd finally quieted.

Jackson leaned in. “Zoe told Sprout you hate music. But Danielle had already hired the string quartet.”

Oh . That explained it. I leaned in, gently tapping my soon-to-be-husband’s beard with my nose. “You should have warned me.”

“Surprise?” he whispered.

“I expect every day will be a surprise with you.” I didn’t say it loudly, but the people seated in the front rows heard it and snickered.

From the back someone yelled, “Hurry up, the beer’s getting warm!”

Jackson shot a glare at the audience. “You should have brought a flask, dipshit.”

“I did, it’s empty.”

“That sounds like a you problem,” Jackson fired back, which got the crowd riled up again.

Amidst the laughter, jests, and insanity, we were married. The announcement of husband and wife was punctuated by over twenty motorcycles roaring to life.

Since the party was already going and promising to be one big chaotic debacle, I tossed the bouquet over my shoulder at the groomsmen and crowd of Jackson’s men who flanked the path to the quadrant of tents where the cake, beer, and a whole smorgasbord of food waited.

I glanced back to see what Jackson was laughing at.

Both Sketch and Bear ended up with parts of the arrangement. In the scuffle to grab the flowers, it had separated into at least two main clumps. Bear held a cluster of roses, while Sketch had the main section of the bouquet. Both looked dumbstruck.

Zoe laughed at the two men’s consternation. “It worked!”

“What worked?” I asked.

“The breakaway Lily designed. It was supposed to do that. Couldn’t have only one person getting hitched next.”

Jackson was still laughing.

“That’s funny to you, isn’t it?” I said.

“I’d have guessed Hollywood or Hickey to be next. Not those two.”

We’d have to see. Aside from Wolf and Sprout, nearly all of his men balked at settling down. Which worked for some of them. Others needed a keeper—as in a zoo keeper . Hell, most of them required one.

We posed for photos quickly. The men of his club were getting antsy because the smoky smell of pit beef wafted through the meadow. The grass was wet from a sudden shower that passed almost as quickly as it began, and the day grew warmer.

Jackson and I posed on his bike. I’d draped over the gas tank in a very uncomfortable backward lean that threatened to spill my tits out.

Jackson braced above me, barely inches from devouring me.

The world narrowed down as I held perfectly still, my ring hand against his cheek so the light would catch the diamonds just right.

His breath brushed my face, and his erection grew hard against my leg.

“I wish we could do this in private.”

I agreed. “With fewer clothes.”

“Oh fuck, yeah.” His grin broke my pose. I laughed right along with him. Of all the shots, that one was my favorite.

We’d just gotten the bulk of the photos done, and the photographer was trying to get the groomsmen to pose with Jackson and I.

Boom ! I flinched as the loud noise was followed by a series of fireworks. “Let me guess, Hagerstown?”

My husband grimaced. “I knew I shouldn’t have let Walt talk me into that.”

“They’re keeping it over the lake, right?”

“I fucking hope so.”

There were no guarantees with this crowd. “Firearms?”

“Checked at the gate,” Sprout confirmed.

“Thank God.” With this many bikers in one spot, there was going to be an accident or twenty tonight. We had two paramedics on call, just in case.

The photographer snapped a photo. Sprout clapped his hands. “That’s it. It’s time to get fucking drunk!”

Coop stepped away, hooking an arm under Jackson’s. “Come on Boss. Someone grab Kate! You guys gotta do the first dance. It’s tradition.”

No . I backed away from the trio of Destroyers stalking me. And landed right into Bear’s arms. He hoisted me up, and with some quick finagling of my train, Zoe and Gina followed us while slowly hooking the loops and buttons so I wouldn’t drag it on the ground.

“Traitors!” I yelled over the noise.

The DJ waited until both Jackson and I were stranded in the middle of the dance floor. Obviously my husband was in on this. He had that look. One of mixed guilt, a smattering of “don’t hurt me” and “trust me” written all over it.

The song started slowly. Just a small sustained chord and the clear tenor of a talented singer joined in. I braced myself for memories to flood back, but I didn’t know this song at all. Jackson held out his arms. I stepped into them so he could lead me through a shuffled waltz.

As we danced, he began singing along. Surprisingly, he had a decent voice.

I paid attention to the words. Who would have guessed this man to be such a romantic?

I forgot all about the pain of the past and lost myself in his eyes, arms, and softly sung melody.

He promised love, a future, and more tenderly, telling me how perfect I was for him.

And how our family was everything he asked for, and more.

I couldn’t help it. Tears began to leak out of my eyes. He stopped mid-shuffle to whisper in my ear.

“Sorry, baby.”

I shook my head. My bottom lip quivered. He was apologizing for nothing. What he’d done was a miracle. I fought to speak so he’d know he hadn’t fucked up at all. “You’re giving me music back.”

More tears streamed down my cheeks, but I smiled despite the pain releasing from my soul.

He hugged me tight, sang softly, and swayed with me until the song ended. No sooner than it did, another song followed on its heels. This one was even more poignant. He motioned for Zoe to join us, and in our little trio, we celebrated being a family.

Of course, it was too good to last. The next song was a typical biker song.

The floor filled up. A few of the men without ol’ ladies invited strippers or cam girls as their plus-one.

And some of the ol’ ladies were strippers at one point.

That meant there was no end to the talented antics on the dance floor.

I tried to keep up for at least three songs but was so out of practice that I tripped over my own feet. Luckily, Jackson caught me before I went down. I couldn’t stop laughing and smiling.

We retired to the table for food, drinks, and the obligatory make-out sessions each time someone clinked their silverware on anything that would make noise. The whirlwind of the day wound down, and the cake was distributed without tipping it over or getting a piece mashed in my face.

Everywhere I looked, the men wore black vests. Women did, too. Jackson had ditched his suit jacket during the photos, opting to cover his dress shirt with his vest. I marveled at how good it looked on him. He looked whole in it. Happy.

“What?”

“You are one handsome man,” I replied.

“Babe.” His grin grooved deep.

My finger traced the indent there. “I love you.”

The smile lines at the edges of his eyes deepened. “Really now?”

“Yes.”

He inhaled and looked at the crowd. The smile faded to something I couldn’t read.

“Jackson?”

He took my hand and helped me stand up. As he did, he motioned to Wolf, who brought up a wrapped box. Sprout whistled loudly. “Cut the music! This is fucking important.”

While the noise didn’t cease immediately, we had their attention.

Jackson handed me the box. “I was going to spring this on you after I got your permission, but…” He bit his lip nervously.

I had an inkling of what was inside, because not a single woman in my circle kept secrets well.

Gina flat-out asked me to try on leather vests two weeks ago.

And Betty Jo, the woman who embellished most of the custom leather coats for the club women, asked me my favorites for almost everything from food, plants, colors, the whole works.

I think after all that, she knew me better than Jackson did.

The wrapping paper ripped easily, and I shook the box to loosen the bottom from the lid. It was heavy.

The vest and coat inside matched Jackson’s with a few differences. The name patch on each read, “Boss Lady.” I flipped the vest over to see the back, just to be sure it didn’t say what my former one said.

“Property of Jackson!” I yelled with a grin on my face. Not Property of Destroyers, but one man, alone. Yes, he was a Destroyer, but there would be no sharing.

With that, I held it up and showed it off to his men.

All of them. The ones from the home club and all the others he supposedly ruled.

But he didn’t treat them like subjects. He knew every name.

Who was married, who had children, the names of their loved ones, what they drank, and what they did for the club.

He was more than their leader and would never ask for more than they could give.

Just like he’d never ask me for more than I could give. But what he didn’t know was that I’d give him everything. Including loyalty to the club’s traditions. The good ones, and even some of the antiquated ones like wearing a garment declaring me his property.

I handed the vest to Jackson with a request to help me put it on.

He whispered in my ear as he did. “I love you, too, Kate.” Then he looped an arm over my shoulder and presented me to the crowd. “See this woman?”

Cheers and a few wolf-whistles followed.

He waited until they quieted.

“She’s mine. Only mine!”

Then he swept me up and carried me out of the tent. I was afraid he’d insist on carrying me all the way to the house, but he set me on my feet. “We better run; they’re going to try kidnapping you.”

So we did. All the way into the house, locking the door to the private bedroom Sprout loaned us for the night.

We barely beat the fastest of them to it, but he’d positioned two prospects on the door to run interference for us.

I fell to the bed in a flounce of chiffon and silk.

Jackson double-checked the lock and then stalked forward to stand between my feet. “Wife.”

“Husband,” was my reply.

He worked the layers of fluffy cream fabric up to expose my legs. “Dress on, or off? Your choice.”

“Off.”

He slipped some layers free. His fingers lingered on my vest.

“We’re leaving the vest on,” he declared.

Heck yeah . It took some doing, but he managed to unlace the bodice of the dress and remove everything but the black garment. As the night darkened and the party continued, I pondered his phrasing. “We’re.” We are.

We .

No longer just Kate or just Jackson. We were a unit. A family. After everything it took to get us to this point. We were no longer apart.

We . Us. Family .

The best words in the world.