Page 87 of The Wrong Groom

Dominic sits up straighter, lifting his chin. “Excuse me, that bike is a Ducati Superleggera, and it probably cost more than Tristan’s Audi.”

Tristan laughs. “You paid that much for the thing that’s going to kill you?”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that danger⁠—”

“No, seriously, he’s right. What’s going to happen if you get into a crash on the freeway?” Reid says, chiming in. “Statistically, bikers are way more likely to⁠—”

Dominic scoffs, then affects a mocking tone, pushing an invisible pair of glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Statistically? Come on, man, you know I don’t give a shit about the statistics. Some random numbers have nothing to do with why I ride, I’ll tell you that much.”

Jackson can’t resist his snort of laughter as he moves back over to join us, setting a glass of whiskey down on the coffee table in front of me. I accept the drink with a nod of thanks.

“Do you even wear a helmet?” I ask, picking up the drink and taking a sip. “Tell me you’ve at least started wearing a helmet.”

“I don’t need one,” Dominic shoots back archly. “Because I’m not going to crash.”

“Oh, good lord,” Chloe mutters under her breath, just loudly enough to be audible.

Tristan shakes his head, grinning. “This man’s having his quarter-life crisis.”

“Damn, just imagine what his mid-life crisis will be like at this rate,” Jackson drawls. “What’s he gonna get into then? Bull riding? Great white shark cage diving, minus the cage?”

Everyone gets a good laugh out of that. Even Dominic, who’s making an admirable effort to look disdainful, cracks an involuntary smile.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he says. “I’ll be just fine. You guys will be eating your words when I pull up in a couple of years with a Ducati collector’s edition and a fuckin’ People Magazine Sexiest Man Alive nomination.”

“Right, unless you hit a pothole before then,” I deadpan. “In which case, we’ll be reading your obituary in People instead.”

For just a second, Dominic’s jaw goes tight, and I wince internally. Fuck. Even though I have no problem giving him a bit of shit, I didn’t mean to poke at an old wound like that. Dominic went through some rough shit a while back, and it took the loss of a good friend to snap him out of it, but I know that loss still bothers him. Hell, I think it’s a big part of why he does dangerous shit like riding a motorcycle on the freeways of LA.

I catch his eye and give a small head shake, silently retracting my words. There’s a moment where the tension lingers in his face, but then he snorts, returning to our easy banter.

“You’re just jealous, Gabe.” He leans back in his chair and swirls the whiskey in his glass. “You can’t put a car seat on a ride like mine, so you’re stuck with your four-door.”

I click my tongue against my teeth. “Nah, not jealous in the slightest. I’ve got air conditioning and windows that roll up. You, on the other hand, are going to bake alive in the summer and get bugs in your mouth. I’ll take my Maserati any day.”

“I never get bugs in my mouth,” Dominic mutters.

“Sure you don’t, Dom.” Reid rolls his eyes, then glances toward the kitchen. “Anyway, let’s all agree that Dominic is living on borrowed time and change the subject before Mom comes back.”

“Hear, hear,” says Tristan, nodding.

At that moment, there’s a knock at the front door.

“Hey, right on cue,” says Jackson with a smirk. “There’s our subject change.”

“I’ll get it,” Ivy says immediately, bouncing to her feet. She practically skips into the foyer to welcome Beckett inside. I can hear the murmur of their exchange, but not the words themselves. A few seconds later, the two of them enter the living room, Beckett already looking chagrined even before we start to make fun of him.

“Don’t say it,” he mutters. “I know. I know⁠—”

“Well, well, well, “ says Tristan, rubbing his hands together.

“Look who finally made it,” Dominic adds. “You, my friend, are forty-five minutes late.”

Beckett groans. “Jesus. Guys. It’s actually not my fault for once, if you can believe it.”

“You’re going to have to apologize to Mom,” I say. “She said six.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Beckett sighs. “I will. I was on the phone with the stupid venue.”