Page 20 of The Biker and the Curvy Widow

They bicker playfully, and something warm blooms in my chest. This is what I almost walked away from. This family I didn't even realize I'd become part of—not just Marco's widow, tolerated out of obligation, but one of them. A sister in a family bound by leather and loyalty instead of blood.

I glance across the restaurant and find Pope—Ryder—watching me from the bar.

He's been doing that all night. Watching me move through the room, greet guests, laugh with the women who've become my friends. And every time our eyes meet, he smiles. This soft, private thing that makes my heart flip over in my chest.

Seven years, I think. He watched me like this for seven years, and I never knew.

"You two are disgusting," Hammer announces, appearing at my elbow with a beer in hand. "Just so you know."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The eye-fucking. Across a crowded room. Very dramatic. Very romance novel." He takes a swig of his beer. "Also, about damn time."

I laugh—actually laugh, surprised out of me. "Was it that obvious?"

"To everyone except you two idiots? Yeah." His expression softens slightly, which for Hammer is basically a declaration of love. "Marco would be happy. Just so you know. He'd be real happy about this."

The words hit me somewhere tender. "You think so?"

"I know so." He claps me on the shoulder, awkward and gruff. "Now go make out with your boyfriend. I've got a booth to claim."

He ambles off toward Doc and Rory's table, and I watch him go with a strange tightness in my throat. These men—rough and scarred and dangerous—have become the family I never expected. The family Marco left me when he died.

The family I almost abandoned.

Warm hands settle on my hips from behind.

"Hey." Ryder's voice is low, just for me. "Having fun?"

I lean back into him, letting myself be held in the middle of my crowded restaurant, in front of everyone. "The best night we've had in two years."

"Told you the new name was a good idea."

"You told me you'd support whatever I decided. That's different."

"Same result." He presses a kiss to my temple. "Come with me for a minute. I have something for you."

He leads me through the kitchen, past Gina's knowing smirk, out the back door into the alley where we store the overflow supplies. Not exactly romantic, but private—and right now, private feels precious.

"Close your eyes," he says.

"Ryder—"

"Just trust me."

I close my eyes. Feel him take my hand, press something small and cool into my palm.

"Okay. Look."

A key. Simple, silver, attached to a plain metal ring.

I look up at him, confused. "What⁠—"

"Move in with me."

The world tilts. "What?"

"Move in with me," he repeats, steady and certain. "I know it's fast. I know we've only been... this... for a week. But Mara—" He cups my face in his hands, his eyes blazing with something that looks like desperation and hope tangled together. "We've wasted seven years being careful. Being noble. Staying apart because we thought it was the right thing to do. I'm done wasting time."