Page 53 of Desert Sky (RB MC #4)

SKYE

T he knock on the door came at exactly nine a.m., sharp and insistent.

I opened it to find Regan standing there, looking like she'd just walked off the set of a music video. Emerald green bodycon dress, blood-red lipstick, stiletto heels, and enough attitude to fill a stadium.

“Time to celebrate, birthday girl,” she sang, twirling a keyring on her finger.

I blinked at her. “My birthday isn’t for another month.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s called celebrating early. And besides, you’ve had a hell of a year. You deserve to be spoiled.”

“I don’t trust you,” I said flatly, stepping back to let her inside. “If you dress me up in something hideous, I swear to God?—”

“You’ll cut me. Yeah, yeah, you’ve said it before.” She gave me a wink and looked around. “Jackson’s waiting for his mommy to come to her surprise birthday party. He blew up a hundred balloons. ”

“He’s the best boy. Fine. I’ll play along. I just didn’t expect you to show up like a fashion-forward hurricane.”

Regan grinned. “Let’s roll. I’m driving. Thought you might be too tipsy to drive back later.”

“Tipsy at ten in the morning?” I narrowed my eyes. “Okay, what the hell kind of party is this?”

“The kind where you shut up and let me play fairy godmother. Now, spin around.”

I saw the blindfold in her hand and immediately stepped back. “Nope. Not happening. Absolutely not. That’s not a regular blindfold. Thats the military grade the MC uses on snitches.”

“Well, duh? I borrowed it. Oh, come on, Red. Don’t make me tackle you. It's a surprise. A good one. Just trust me.”

“I swear if I end up in clown shoes and a tutu?—”

Regan cackled as she tied the soft fabric over my eyes. “Relax. You're gonna look like a queen.”

The ride to the ranch was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the occasional clink of ice from the drink Regan handed me. I couldn’t see a thing, but I could feel the breeze from the open window, smell the fresh scent of wildflowers, and hear the crunch of gravel as we pulled up.

Regan helped me out and guided me inside what I assumed was the ranch house. “Careful,” she murmured. “There’s a step.”

When we stopped, her voice got low. “No peeking. Just breathe. And trust me.”

I could hear giggles. Lots of them.

Then warm hands tugged at mine, guiding me forward. Someone unzipped my hoodie. Another person was untying my sneakers. I was hustled into a room filled with the scent of hairspray, perfume, and laughter .

"Don’t you dare poke me with that curling iron," I snapped playfully, still blindfolded.

Amber laughed. "Stop squirming, or you’re gonna look like a poodle."

“I swear, if I feel sequins or tulle?—”

“Relax,” one of the MC ladies whispered in my ear. “You’re in good hands.”

Despite my grumbling, I let them do their thing.

They stripped me out of my clothes with the efficiency of a Nascar pit crew, then slipped me into something silky, tight in all the right places, flaring at the bottom.

I could feel the fabric hug my waist, the zip of the bodice, the way the skirt rustled with movement. It felt…expensive. Elegant.

I inhaled sharply when I felt a necklace clasp at the nape of my neck.

They did my makeup next. I could smell foundation and powder, feel brushes dance over my skin. Lipstick. Setting spray. The works.

Then a pair of heels slid onto my feet.

Finally, the blindfold lowered.

I blinked, adjusting to the soft, golden light streaming in from the curtained windows.

Amber and three of the MC ladies stood grinning at me like they’d just pulled off the ultimate makeover montage.

“Holy shit,” Regan whispered.

“You look like a damn goddess,” Amber said proudly.

Hacker’s woman whistled. “Ready to knock his smug ass flat?”

“Let’s do this.”

“What?” I squawked as the fabric was firmly tied back up and hands guided me toward the door.

They led me downstairs, my heart racing now—not from suspicion, but anticipation .

The blindfold finally slipped away.

Light flooded my vision. Warm, golden sunlight pouring over rows of blooming gardenias, white folding chairs wrapped in satin, the shimmer of champagne flutes catching the glint of the New Mexico sky.

There were candles tucked into adobe alcoves, wild desert roses woven through trellises, and a string quartet softly easing into Canon in D .

I blinked hard.

Once. Twice.

And then I saw them—every face I loved. Shaniqua. Gram. Malik. Amber. Jackson in a tiny suit and bowtie, grinning like he held the whole world in his pocket as he carried a velvet ring box down the aisle.

And at the end of that aisle—JD.

In a tuxedo that fit him like sin, standing under an arch of gardenias and desert flame, his eyes locked on mine like I was the last miracle left on earth.

My heart slammed into my ribs.

“This is…” I breathed, turning in place. “Oh my God.”

I looked down—and for the first time, really saw the dress.

Ivory silk. Pure and soft, hugging my curves before spilling into a dramatic flare at my feet. The kind of gown that made you stand up straighter. Feel holy. Like royalty. I wasn’t just wearing a dress… I was wearing forever .

Tears blurred my vision as the realization sank in, inch by slow, glorious inch.

This wasn’t a birthday party.

This was a wedding.

My wedding.

To him.

To JD .

My knees buckled slightly, but Malik’s strong arm steadied me.

He leaned close, whispering with quiet warmth, “This time, I get to walk you toward something—not away.”

I couldn’t speak. My throat was tight, heart thundering.

Regan flashed me a wink from the front row, mouthing, Surprise, bitch!

My lips parted in a shocked, breathless laugh.

Everything— everything —clicked at once. The dress. The hush. The secrecy. The way JD had kissed me like goodbye before disappearing on a "trip."

I pressed my hand to my chest, trying to catch my breath. He was such a romantic and I almost lost this gem of a man. It hit me hard. “How do I deserve this? Deserve him?” My lip trembled.

“He thinks you’re worth it and so does everyone here.” Malik guided me forward, and the soft music pulled me down the aisle like a current.

Step by step, the world narrowed until all I could see was JD.

His expression was unreadable, wrecked in the most beautiful way—like he couldn’t believe I was real. Like this moment, this wild, defiant miracle, had somehow come true.

When I reached him, he took both my hands in his, thumbs stroking my knuckles. His voice cracked when he finally spoke.

“I couldn’t ask. Couldn’t wait. Couldn’t breathe without you. So I brought you home this way.”

Tears fell before I could stop them.

“I thought I was dreaming,” I whispered.

“You are,” JD said. “And so am I. But this time, we get to stay. ”

Someone sniffled. Probably Amber.

JD’s gaze never left mine. Not even when his son—our son—stepped up to hand him the rings. He took them slowly, reverently, then leaned down and whispered something in Jackson’s ear that made our boy beam and run toward Gram’s waiting arms.

JD straightened.

And when his eyes hit mine again, I felt scorched. Branded. His .

My throat burned. “You sure about this?”

His eyes softened, and for once, his usual steel melted. “Baby girl, I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He reached for my hand and tugged me forward beneath the arch of flowers, into the space where every dream I thought I’d buried bloomed anew.

The scent was dizzying—sweet florals, the dry spice of hay, JD’s cologne, leather warmed by the sun. And beneath it all, something headier— us . That dangerous, electric pull that never dulled.

JD’s thumb brushed over the back of my hand, and I realized I was shaking.

“Breathe, darlin’,” he murmured, so low only I could hear. “I got you.”

His touch was rough, callused, familiar. But it was the look in his eyes that undid me.

No words.

Just heat.

Fire.

Love, forged in scars and second chances.

I barely registered the officiant’s voice as he welcomed everyone. JD’s hand tightened in mine as we were led through the ceremony, each word weighted, sacred. But it was the way he looked at me that made my knees go soft .

Possessive.

Tender.

Like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss me… or throw me over his shoulder and finish what we’d started under a thousand stars.

When it came time to say our vows, JD stepped forward. He didn’t need a paper. He never did.

“I’m not a man of many words,” he said, his deep voice thick with emotion.

“But I’ve got one promise, Skye.” He paused.

“You and Jackson are my life now. There’s no future without you in it.

I’m not asking you to forget the past—we lived through it.

But I am asking you to walk beside me through the rest of it. ”

His jaw clenched as he slipped the ring onto my finger.

I choked back a sob. “JD…”

He shook his head. “Shhh. Don’t cry. Or I’ll lose it too.”

I could barely speak my vows, too overwhelmed with feeling. But I managed them—something about forgiveness, forever, and choosing each other, no matter the storm.

Then the officiant said those words.

“You may kiss your bride.”

JD didn’t waste a damn second.

He stepped in, yanked me flush against his hard chest, and claimed me.

His lips were fire and velvet and home.

People cheered. Someone wolf-whistled. Regan probably screamed again.

But all I felt was him . His hands cupping my face. His kiss turning darker, deeper, until it was just the two of us again.

His lips brushed my ear.

“Wait ‘til I get you alone, Mrs. Northport. ”

I shivered, laughing breathlessly as he swept me into his arms and carried me down the aisle like a man who’d waited his whole damn life to do just that.

And under that bright blue sky, I finally believed in ever after.