“Soleil.” Lana said her name sharply. “You’ve gone off someplace in your head that clearly isn’t very pleasant. You look like you’re going to cry.” She indicated the lawn chairs. “Come sit down with me and we’ll talk about it.”
Soleil needed time to think this all through before she made a fool out of herself. She knew her number one problem was self-confidence. She had been trying to work through that, but looking around at all the beautiful women everywhere surrounding them, and knowing Ice’s appetites, it was hard to think he wasn’t somewhere with a couple of women right at that moment. She’d heard the rumors.
She eased into one of the chairs that was set in a semicircle around the firepit and flashed a fake smile at Lana. “Did I look like that? I guess I do that. A leftover childhood thing. Everything is great here, a little scary because it’s different and I don’t know exactly what I’m doing yet, but I’ll catch on.”
Lana studied her face. “Honey, you don’t have to do that with me. I’m your friend. In the club, we’re sisters. We look out for one another. This has something to do with Ice. You know he didn’t go to a stupid wet T-shirt contest. If he wanted to see boobs under a wet shirt, he’d spray you with a hose. There was some club business he had to take care of tonight. Storm and Absinthe are with him.” She glanced at her watch. “They should be back any minute.”
Soleil didn’t know whether to let herself believe Lana and be relieved, or to hold on to her fears and be miserable. She’d never been happy until she’d been with Ice. Never. Not really. She glanced at Lana. Lana was confident in herself as a woman, as a member of Torpedo Ink. Soleil had promised herself she was going to be like her—to get to that same place as a woman, as Ice’s wife and as part of the Torpedo Ink family. Maybe she was making a total fool of herself, but if she was going to make a choice, she wanted to choose happiness, and that meant believing in Ice. She had to make a conscious choice to believe in her husband.
Two more of the Torpedo Ink men joined them. She recognized Mechanic and Transporter, brothers who owned a garage. She liked them both and gave them a shy smile. She didn’t have confidence in her place in the club without Ice there—everything was too new—but she was determined she would.
Mechanic joined Ink at the grill. “Not bad, Ink. You got everything ready. Czar and Steele are on their way. Breezy and Blythe are bringing the side dishes. The prospects are helping carry them. Since when have you been doing the grilling?”
Lana kicked Soleil’s foot to get her attention. “That’s what they do. You do all the work and they take credit for it.”
Soleil couldn’t help but laugh at Ink’s expression. He pointed the tongs at Lana. “Woman, you are a pain in my ass. I didn’t take credit, and Mechanic, for your information, I can grill.”
Lana laughed. “You’re just making shit up, Ink. No way do you know the first thing about cooking or grilling. I’ve known you since you were a little scrawny kid. I never saw you behind a stove or in front of a grill. There were no secret lessons in the middle of the night.”
Ink managed to look so affronted, Soleil nearly fell off her chair laughing. Feeling eyes on her, she glanced up and everything inside her stilled. There he was. Ice. He took her breath away. He was such a gorgeous man. That build. That hair. Those eyes. Beside him, Storm stood talking in a low voice to Absinthe. Storm looked just like Ice other than the three teardrops tattooed onto Ice’s face. They were stunning when they were together. She knew they must have caused a sensation when they walked through the throngs of biker women to make their way back to the campsite.
Ice came right to her, took her hands and pulled her from the lawn chair into his arms. His mouth settled on hers. He swept her away, swept every doubt away. How could he possibly kiss the way he did if he didn’t feel anything for her? He tasted the way love should taste. His hands swept down her back and pulled her tighter against him.
“I missed you. Were you good while I was gone?”
“No, she wasn’t,” Preacher said. “Neither was Lana.”
“Lana was flirting her cute little butt off with some asshole named Stallion,” Ink informed them.
Mechanic had just taken a drink of beer and he spewed it out onto the ground. Transporter stopped the beer can in midair, staring at Lana. Lana tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair, giving Ink the death stare.