Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC 8)

But there were plenty of nights when we’d utilized an empty room.

Which was what I was looking for. An empty room where I could get my bearings. Could take a breath and decompress.

“Oh shit, sorry!” I squeaked, opening a door and not finding an empty room.

Nope.

I found Ashley, pressed up against the wall, half dressed. Wire, who had been pressing her up against the wall, was also half dressed.

They both detached as soon as I opened the door. Although I felt bad for interrupting, I couldn’t control the smile that spread across my face.

Ashley was the only one in our group who had not been claimed by an alpha male biker. Many had tried. They’d be mad not to. She was beautiful, in an original, unique way. Ashley favored the sixties, always dressing like she’d just stepped out of that decade. Hair always perfect, makeup... perfection. I’d never seen her look anything less than perfect.

Until now.

She’d told us all that she was not interested in being with a biker. Not interested in a relationship.

But she was most definitely interested in being with particular a biker.

“I’ll just... leave you to it,” I chuckled, realizing I was still standing there, and neither of them had said anything. “As you were.” I nodded my head, backing out.

The door closed quietly behind me, then I returned the way I came. No way was I going to risk opening any other doors. At least my head had cleared some from that shock.

Wire had been with the club for years now, but he was different than most of the other patches. Sure, he was just as badass as everyone else, could handle himself in any situation, but his battleground was mostly in the virtual world. He’d emerged at parties every now and then, shared a beer and a burger, maybe even engaged in a conversation or two, but mostly he was working on computers, doing what, half the time the club didn’t know.

He’d been the topic of many cocktail nights, each of us wondering when he’d find a woman. If he’d ever find one. Everyone had agreed he wasn’t gay, since we’d heard he entertained club girls on a somewhat regular basis.

Ashley had been present for many of those discussions, and I realized now, she had stayed rather quiet.

“Lizzie!”

I turned toward the familiar voice. Ashley was rushing down the hallway, buttoning up her dress. She always looked impeccable, pressed and perfect. Right now, however, her lipstick was smudged, she was rumpled, disheveled and definitely had make out hair going on.

I liked that for her.

I stopped just short of the corner that would lead us back to the common room.

“Hey, you didn’t have to get dressed on my account,” I grinned. It was fake, but I wanted it to be real.

She did not return the grin. Her pretty face was painted with worry.

“Do you think you could keep that,” she nodded her head backward, “between us?” There was a twinge of panic to her voice.

I tilted my head, curious as to why she was so desperate to keep this under wraps. But it wasn’t my business. She wanted it kept quiet for a reason. And in a group that knew everyone’s business, I could understand her wanting... whatever that was with Wire without having to label it.

“Of course, sweetie,” I replied.

Her shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“For what it’s worth, you two are super cute together.”

Her eyes flared. “We aren’t together,” she snapped.

Oh, yes they were. She obviously wasn’t ready to admit that. but this totally had the makings of a Sons of Templar courtship. Their story was going to come out sooner rather than later.

I held up my hands in surrender. “Okay, I won’t say anything else. You can trust me.”

She smiled weakly. “Thanks. I definitely can’t trust myself.”

“Oh sure you can, babe. You’re just a little scared of what your instincts have to say. I get it.” I leaned in to kiss her cheek before walking back to the common room. It was time to take my babies home.Chapter 6One Week LaterI was exhausted, frustrated and covered in sweat. So, of course, that’s when a Harley pulled into my driveway.

Not just any Harley.

One with Kace on the back.

No, it couldn’t have been one of my very married, very committed to their wives, friendly neighborhood bikers. It had to be the young man who’d made somewhat of an impression on me.

It wasn’t like I’d spent the whole week thinking about him or that we’d had some kind of spark. That’s probably how it would’ve gone in a romance novel—that’s what I was writing in my ‘not’ book, at least. But in this life, all I could think about every moment of the day was how much I missed my husband. Trying to figure out how I could act like I wasn’t in total and utter agony. How I could hide that I was absolutely terrified that I hadn’t healed, not one bit. So I hadn’t been thinking about any kind of spark or connection between Kace and I. We didn’t have one.