Page 144 of Scatter the Bones

For him to say that in front of his friends—not that I think they heard his low murmur—means a lot. I turn and press my lips to his. “Anything I do is out of love.”

“I know.”

“Awww!” Shelby squeals, grinning like she might explode from secondhand happiness.

Jigsaw rolls his eyes at her, but he’s smiling as he eases away and drifts back to join the guys behind us, his hand trailing off my back as he goes.

Our conversation shifts, light and easy.

As we move on to talking about other things, I discover that Serena and I share a mutual obsession with Pretty Pout lip glosses.

“We need to get together soon,” Serena says, excitement bubbling in her voice. She leans closer and squeezes my arm. “They just sent me a box of their whole spring line.”

My mouth drops open. “I wouldlovethat.”

“You have to come see our house,” she says, practically bouncing. “I have the studio where I film?—”

“Oh my God, I love those shelves you have in the background!” I say, remembering one of her recent videos. “With the backlighting and the acrylic risers? Gorgeous.”

She beams, glowing with pride. “Gray found the house and knew I’d love that room for filming.”

I swivel on my stool a little, sneaking a glance toward Grinder. The older, gruff biker who practically growled at Rooster earlier had picked out a home for his fiancée with the perfect filming room for her beauty videos? It doesn’t get any sweeter than that.

“But,” Serena adds with a gleam in her eye, “I have my own private makeup room, totally separate. I never show it in videos.”

“You have to see it,” Shelby chimes in. “It’s spectacular. And I say that as someone who has her own makeup room—thanks to these two.” She jerks her thumb at Rooster and Jigsaw over her shoulder.

Jigsaw holds up his hands and turns them over for us to see. “So. Many. Blisters.”

Rooster smacks Jigsaw’s arm. “I told you to wear gloves, chucklefuck.”

A completely unwanted sliver of jealousy slides under my skin. Not over what was said—just the way they all fit together so easily. The shorthand. The history.

Before I can unpack it, the air behind us shifts—charged and heavier somehow.

“Hey, Wrath,” Serena says with a quick nod and smile.

Shelby and I both spin our stools around.

Wrath’s joined the group. He claps Grinder on the back, says a surprisingly sweet greeting to baby Lincoln, then slings one arm each around Rooster and Jigsaw’s necks, dragging them into a tight huddle. “Got my security team for Vegas?”

Jigsaw flicks an annoyed glance at Wrath.

“Ooo!” Shelby says, waving her hand in the air. “I can’t wait to talk to Griff at his party. Dawson wants to sponsor him, and he offered his private jet for Vegas.”

“Nice.” Wrath nods with approval. “Thanks, Shelby.”

“No problem. He was pretty tickled that I had a personal connection to a hot, new fighter he can brag on.”

I frown at Jigsaw. “Griff, my mechanic?”

“One and the same,” Jigsaw confirms with a weary sigh. He shakes loose of Wrath’s grip and steps closer, wrapping his fingers around mine. “I was going to ask if you’d come to the party with me.” His thumb brushes over my knuckles. “And Vegas.”

“Oh.” My heart performs a wild stutter. He wants me by his side at more events. Not only around his club brothers but other friends outside of his MC. And a trip to Vegas? Traveling together seems like a big step as a couple.

But my rush of excitement is quickly smothered by reality. The party? Maybe. Vegas? Not likely. I can’t fit a trip like that into my schedule on short notice.

“Oh.” Shelby slides a look toward Jigsaw. “Jezzie wants to come to Griff’s party too.”

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