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“Aro,” the man says, holding his hand up in a wave.
“Ugly,” the other guy says.
“Ugly?” Grace asks with a soft smile, and I swear I’ll beat the man’s ass if she says something that can be construed as flirting.
“That’s me.”
“That’s not very nice,” she says, scrunching up her nose.
“Just my cross to bear,” he says, no hint of flirting on his part either.
“Grace!”
We all turn to see Emmalyn approaching, her arms clasped in front of her as if the hold they have on each other is the only thing keeping her from hugging Grace.
“Hi,” Grace says softly.
“I’m Em, Kincaid’s wife. Look at you. You’ve grown into such a gorgeous woman.”
Grace gives her a soft smile, another change from when I knew her before. The woman knows she’s gorgeous, and she was never shy to grin when someone told her so. I wouldn’t say she was conceited, but she wasn’t one of those people who argued about her looks either. I think I clung to her so tightly because I knew she could easily find someone else.
I cough, shoving those thoughts away as Kincaid approaches with a cautious smile as well.
He has to be torn between treating Grace as a woman who’s been very recently traumatized and the little girl he acknowledges is the sole reason for his cousin’s happiness.
“Kincaid,” my boss says in introduction as he approaches.
My head tilts in confusion. “Have you not met before?”
Kincaid shakes his head. “Not in person.”
“Welcome to the clubhouse,” Emmalyn says, her smile growing wider when she notices that Grace can’t manage to pull her eyes from her husband.
The man is intimidating, covered in muscles, his bald head shining from the overhead lights, but she doesn’t seem scared. If anything, she seems a little sad, although she’s trying to cover it with a smile.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” she manages.
“You have to be starving. We have loads of dinner left, why don’t you join us,” Kincaid offers. “It’s a good thing the clubhouse is full of hungry men. It means we always have a full spread available.”
I stay behind as they guide Grace to the kitchen, but I don’t breathe easier the way I expected to be able to once she’s out of sight.
“Any problems on the flight or drive in?”
I turn to look, noticing Shadow standing beside me.
“No problems.”
Legend walks away, another laugh on his lips.
“Something I need to be made aware of?” Shadow asks.
“I was wondering about where she’s going to sleep. If April and Apollo moved out to accommodate Harley, that still means all the rooms are taken. Unless Harley has gone home.”
Shadow shakes his head. “I think Harley’s going to be here for a while. I figured she’d stay in your room with you.”
I jerk my head back, face twisting up. “With me?”
He nods.
“No.” I take a step away from him, needing to put some distance between myself and the suggestion. “Grace and I were a thing twelve years ago.”
“Okay,” the man says, holding his hands up. “We’ll figure it out.”
He walks away, heading toward the kitchen with everyone else. As much as I keep emphasizing the time separating Grace and me, I can’t stop thinking about just how easily the two of us came together earlier.
Like riding a bike.
But the new bike is a Harley Davidson rather than a ten-speed Huffy.
The old bike was great.
The new bike is life-altering.
“I don’t need life-altering.”
“What was that?” Aro asks, making me realize he and Ugly are standing right next to me, both of the assholes with grins on their faces.
I’ve spent a decent amount of time with the two of them since they arrived at Cerberus. Legend was my go-to wingman before he lost his mind and fell in love. These guys know how wild I can get, how easy it is for me to pull women.
From the looks on their faces, they seem to be in the same fucking boat that Legend is in, all three of them paddling circles around me because they think I’m already sinking.
“It’ll never happen,” I tell them.
“Looks like it’s already happening,” Ugly says.
“It’s not often you get a second chance at love,” Aro adds.
“I’m not in love with her, and there are no second chances happening here,” I mutter.
“Tell that to your face, because the heart eyes you have when looking at her say something else entirely.”
The chuckles following me to the kitchen tell me that neither of them believes me.
Grace is settled at the table, sitting between Emmalyn and Kid’s woman, Khloe, with a plate piled high with food in front of her. I choose to make a plate and stand against the counter to eat, avoiding Legend’s eyes even though I feel them boring into me.
The food is delicious because it always is, but my mouth can’t distinguish between meat and potatoes, hot or cold.
