Page 125 of Single Mom's Bikers

“Remember when this was just a tattoo shop?” Zane grins, demonstrating proper fork grip to Violet.

“Remember when we thought three brothers sharing everything was complicated?” Chase doesn’t look up from Daisy’s drawing.

Evie’s laugh carries memories of that first interview when she walked into our gallery and changed everything.

“Speaking of sharing.” Her smile turns wicked. “The girls are sleeping at Jamie’s tonight. Rose is taking the twins.”

Heat floods my veins at her tone. We have plans for tonight—the special tattoo we dreamed up over a year ago for when her body recovered from the babies.

“Sleepover!” Violet bounces in her chair. “Can we show Piper our new game?”

“Only if you finish those vegetables.” Evie points with her fork.

Amazing how she balances everything—mother, lover, partner in all our ventures. The year since the twins’ birth has only made her stronger and more confident.

“Done!” Violet shows her clean plate. “Can I go pack now?”

“After you help clear the table.”

The twins get wiped down, dishes get loaded, and leftovers packed away. Even the girls pitch in without complaint, excited for their sleepover.

Rose arrives first, expertly wrangling both babies and their mountain of supplies. The twins go eagerly—they adore their Aunt Rose almost as much as she spoils them.

“No sugar before bed this time,” Evie warns.

Rose just winks. Since moving in with Draven, she’s embraced aunt duties with surprising enthusiasm. The former FBI agent now runs our security company while helping raise our expanding family.

Jamie pulls up next, Piper bouncing in the back seat. The girls race out with their overnight bags, already planning adventures.

“They’ll crash by nine,” Jamie promises. “Too much excitement.”

After kisses and hugs, our noisy house falls quiet. Just four adults remaining, the air suddenly thick with anticipation.

“Studio’s ready.” Chase’s voice holds promise. “Everything is set up.”

“Just like we planned.” Zane moves behind her. “Each brother adding his mark.”

I watch her pulse jump at her throat, and my voice comes rougher than intended. “Time to make you ours completely.”

Her eyes darken with desire. “I’ve always been yours.”

We follow her outside to our bikes, anticipation building with each step. Some moments deserve patience, preparation, and perfection.

This night has been a year in planning. Time to make it count.

The ride to the gallery takes less than ten minutes, but anticipation makes it feel longer. Evie is wearing a flowing summer dress that shows off her curves and fans out behind her as she rides, and her dark hair is loose around her shoulders, the way we all love it.

The birth of the twins has been kind to her body—she has fuller breasts and softer hips, but she still has the same grace in her movements that first caught our attention.

Chase already has his hair tied back and is ready to work. The sleeve tattoos covering his muscled arms shift as he unlocks the gallery’s back entrance.

Zane is dressed casually in worn jeans and a black T-shirt that emphasizes his broad shoulders, while I’ve kept on my dress shirt from dinner, sleeves rolled to expose my own ink.

Chase’s studio has been transformed. The usual bright fluorescents are off, replaced by strategic lighting that creates the perfect atmosphere for detailed work. His station has alsobeen modified—the chair has been adjusted to a semi-reclined position, allowing us all to access it while we work.

“Like what you see?” Zane whispers in Evie’s ear as she takes in the setup. His hands find her hips while she leans back against his chest.

The design we chose is laid out on Chase’s table—an intricate tree of life, its roots forming our initials and its branches weaving protective symbols among the leaves.

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