Page 22

Heather

I t’s been almost two weeks, and there’s been no sign of my ex.

I knew him as Jerry Masters, but I now know he goes by another name—Carnage.

What made him hang onto the name he was given by the Savage Legion MC after they branded him a traitor and threw him out of the club?

I think about that question a lot. Whatever name he’s going by now, he has vanished again.

Every trace of him in my old hometown is gone.

Siege says it’s like he’s underground because he knows they’re hunting him once more.

I hate that we’re stuck waiting for him to show himself. It makes me feel small and helpless, like a sitting duck. Especially because I’m pregnant with his baby. I know Ghost doesn’t want me to go anywhere alone for now, and I can’t blame him.

The atmosphere is tense—it’s like we’re all just holding our breath waiting for something to happen.

Ghost steps outside. The screen door clicks shut behind him, and I look up as he walks across the porch, calm and casual like we don’t have a stalker on the loose.

His voice is low and easy. “You wanna go somewhere with me Saturday night?”

I blink up at him. Saturday is six days away. “You mean like… on a date?”

His mouth curves into the tiniest smirk. “Hell, yeah. A real, honest-to-goodness date. With a fancy dress and all.”

My heart throbs in my chest. Ghost is really asking me out. This handsome, protective, sweet, complicated man wants to take me on a date somewhere that requires dressing up. I’m falling so hard for him it’s not even funny. This hot biker wanting to take me on a date is just the icing on the cake.

He leans against the porch railing, arms crossed over his chest, tattoos catching the late afternoon sunlight, showing to their best effect.

His cut hangs over the tight black tee underneath.

I can’t take my eyes off him because his gaze is fixed on me with that quiet intensity that he sometimes has.

I set my glass aside and ask, “What kind of date requires a beautiful dress?”

“The Savage Legion is throwing our support behind a charity event next weekend,” he replies. “Our old ladies didn’t plan it. It’s hosted by some of the folks who run the town council. Black tie. Casino night. It’s a fundraiser for the women’s shelter.”

I pause, breath catching. Not just because it’s a fancy event, but because he’s asking me to be seen with him, out in the open, with people who matter to the club. And the cause? It’s because he likes me enough to want a real relationship.

“Are you sure you want me to come to a fancy party with you?” I ask, hesitating slightly because this seems too good to be true.

Ghost doesn’t hesitate, even for an instant. “Yes, of course I do.”

“I mean… with you as your date. Not just to tag along.”

He tilts his head, giving me a look like I’ve absolutely lost my mind. “You think I’m lettin’ anybody else take my woman to the biggest damn event this club has ever seen?”

My woman. He called me his woman. Something about him calling me, ‘his’ fills a tiny empty hole in my heart.

I’m not the only one thinking we could be good together.

It’s enough to make me hope I might have a future with him.

It’s been so long since anyone claimed me in a way that didn’t feel possessive or threatening.

Ghost says it like it’s a fact. Like it’s obvious.

Like he doesn’t care that I’m pregnant. Like he just wants me.

When I reply, I have to clear my throat twice to get the words out. “I’d love to go on a real date with you,” I say softly. Then I try to lighten the moment. “But I’m gonna have to buy a dress. Something sparkly. Maybe with a slit up the side. Do you think that would look good on a woman like me?”

His eyes dart down to my belly, and a slow and sinful smile spreads over his face.

“You show up like that,” he drawls, “I might forget the charity part, take you home early and fuck you senseless.”

My cheeks flush, but I laugh anyway. “Then I’m definitely wearing it.”

He pushes off the railing, steps towards me, and presses a kiss to the top of my head—very slowly and deliberately. Then he turns and heads for the garage like nothing earth-shattering just happened.

***

The next day, he takes me shopping for a dress.

When we get there, Brittany and Tusk are just pulling up as well.

I can’t keep the smile off my face for anything.

I love everything about this shopping trip, right down to the fancy boutique they’ve chosen for us.

It says Francesca’s Boutique, Hair & Nail Salon on the sign above the window.

It’s tucked between a vape shop and a secondhand bookstore, but it might as well be its own universe.

The windows are dressed in velvet, and a mannequin in a gold-sequined gown is standing front and center.

Brittany rushes to me and says happily, “I call the gold dress. Don’t even think about buying it.”

“I would never,” I tell her. “That dress was made to go with your blonde hair.”

She gives me a smile and tells me conspiratorially, “Brilliant minds think alike.”

When we step inside, it’s got a really cute boutique-y feel about it.

Brittany says under her breath, “God, I love this place.”

“Welcome to Frankie’s,” a feminine voice sings out. Ghost told me all about Frankie and her love for fashion. Her long dark hair is pinned up with jeweled clips, and her nails are painted perfectly.

“It’s about time you boys put in an appearance,” she says, throwing her arms wide. “The gala is in five days.”

Ghost responds uncomfortably. “Yeah, I’m praying my woman finds something she likes, or we’ll be traipsing all over the place looking for something.”

“Perish the thought,” Frankie says, pointing to me with a grin. “You came to the right place. I just got in a new stock of gowns yesterday.”

Brittany talks about what she wants—namely, the gold sequined dress in the window—and of course, Frankie couldn’t be happier selling it to her. When Brittany races back to try the dress on, Frankie turns her attention to me.

“Now, what can I get for you? Did you have something particular in mind, or do you want to browse?”

Ghost responds confidently, “She wants something in green sequins with a slit up the side. It needs to be luxurious and sexy.” His hand comes out to rest against my stomach, and he adds, “It might need to have room for two, if you know what I mean.”

“Ghost,” I mutter under my breath, feeling my cheeks start to burn.

Frankie winks at me. “Oh, don’t be shy, honey. You’re barely showing, but I’ll make sure we find you something flattering.”

Frankie turns to Brittany, who’s stopped with that gold dress in her arms halfway across the boutique and is running her hand down a rack of gold earrings. I can’t be sure, but it feels like my new friend has been here a lot in the past.

Frankie shouts over her shoulder, “Milo! Black coffee for the brothers, a latte for Brittany and…” she pauses and turns to me. “What would you like?”

“Do you have sparkling water?” I ask. My stomach is still doing okay, but I don’t want to risk it.

“Sure do. Milo, be a sweetheart and grab a bottle of water for Heather.”

A man peeks out from behind a curtain in the back—tall, rail-thin, and pale like he doesn’t get out much. His wire-framed glasses slip down his nose as he nods quickly and vanishes again.

Ghost leans over to me, whispering, “That’s Milo, Miss Frankie’s man. He used to hide behind fake shopping trips so he could stare at her. Now he brings her lattes and does her accounting. Weirdest love story ever.”

Frankie catches us looking and calls over, “Don’t judge, girls. He’s good at what he’s good at, and that makes him a keeper.”

Milo shoots Frankie a nervous little grin, like he’s tickled that she’s saying flattering things about him.

I can’t help but smile to myself because they’re cute together, and I already like her energy.

Milo returns a minute later with three coffees and a bottle of water.

Ghost grabs one of the coffees and tells me, “Go shop, sweetness. My treat.”

Before I can reply, Frankie speaks up. “You boys make yourselves comfortable,” gesturing towards a pair of sturdy velvet chairs off to the side. “We’ve got our work cut out for us.”

She turns to me with a grand smile. “Let’s see if I can get you to say yes to the dress today.”

I can’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm.

When we walk back, Brittany’s already pulled on her dress and even somehow managed to get the damn thing zipped up the back.

She’s standing in front of a set of mirrors examining her reflection from every angle.

She’s clearly in her element, knows what she’s looking for in terms of how it fits.

The dress is perfect for her from what I can see. It flatters all the right curves.

Frankie calls out, “You are by far my easiest customer, Brittany. You always know exactly what you want.”

“I’ve had my eye on this beauty for a while now,” Brittany replies smugly.

Frankie motions to get my attention. “How about this one?” she says, holding up a green sequin number with a full skirt.

My eyes light up. “It’s beautiful, but there are so many to choose from. How will I ever know which one looks the best on me?”

Frankie beams at me. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

Brittany chimes in, “Prepare to be spoiled for choice. I know I always am when I come here.”

I walk around, brushing fabrics with my fingertips. Each gown feels more luxurious than the one before. Frankie puts the green dress back and asks, “What are we going for, honey? Glamorous? Belle of the ball? Or like Ghost said, slinky with a slit up the side?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, feeling more self-conscious by the second. “Something that doesn’t make me look like a baby bump with legs and arms?”

Frankie gasps like I just transgressed into a forbidden zone. “We don’t hide baby bumps.”