He took a deep breath and reached for Seychelle’s hand as he stood up. “It’s beautiful,” he managed, looking around at all the eager faces.
Inez and Doris nodded. “You’re an honorary member, Savage, of the Red Hat Society. Both chapters, Sea Haven and Caspar. We thought it was going to be too small, but it looks perfect on your bike, doesn’t it?” Doris said, pride in her voice.
Mama Anat nodded as did all the other women. Savage found the anger that anyone had dared to touch his bike fading. He looked at the hat again. The brothers had welded it in the least conspicuous place possible. Maybe he could live with it just for a little while to make the ladies happy. They were beaming. Glowing. Bog. He’d never seen them all so happy. He transferred his arm to circle around Seychelle’s shoulders.
“Never thought I’d wear a hat covered in gems on my bike.”
At least his brothers hadn’t welded it onto the top of the skull. They had to have thought of it and laughed their damned heads off. He sent Mechanic and Transporter a look over his shoulder. He wanted them to worry about a visit from him in the middle of the night. Both their smirks faded, and they looked a little uncomfortable. There was no use giving Ice that look. All he would do was laugh. It wasn’t like he was expendable, and he knew it. He had Soleil.
“Don’t know what to say, this is pretty huge. No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.” He tightened his hold on Seychelle, unexpectedly feeling a lump in his throat.
It wasn’t really about that silly red hat, it was the intent behind it. These women had taken him in just the way he was. All of them. They’d just accepted him. Not just for Seychelle. For himself. He had no idea why. He was rough and, for the most part, stayed out of sight if he could help it, but they didn’t seem to mind his foul mouth or his coarse ways.
The ladies beamed even brighter.
“Shall we go inside and eat that delicious-looking cake Alena made?” Rebecca asked. “We wanted to have the party at her restaurant, but you would have known something was up immediately.”
“After cake and ice cream, we can take your bike home for you,” Mechanic offered.
Savage lifted an eyebrow. “I’m fairly certain you have the ability, Mechanic,” he said. “But whether or not you can be trusted is another story altogether. I think I’ll swap trucks with you and drive her home myself.”
Mechanic turned away, but not before Savage caught his grin. He wasn’t nearly as sorry as he should have been. It was a sacrilege to touch a man’s bike. Let him worry about Savage showing up in the middle of the night. That was always a possibility. He flicked a glance at Transporter as he moved past him into the clubhouse, letting him know he held him just as accountable.
That little red hat just might grow on him. If it didn’t, he’d leave it for a couple of days and then take it off his bike and keep it where the ladies could see it at the cottage. He’d just have to find the perfect spot for it.
“You’re amazing,” Seychelle whispered. “You made them very happy. Thank you for being so gracious about the hat. It couldn’t have been easy.”
He thought about letting that go, but it wasn’t right. “Maybe not at first. Never wanted anyone touching my bike. Never had anything that belonged to me until I got the bike. And that bike is part of me. It represents so many things to me. No one ever lays a hand on it, other than Mechanic or Transporter, and that’s because they’re turning it into a rocket.”
“I hardly think you need to make it faster, honey.” Seychelle cuddled into him as they made their way around the room, greeting each of the women.
One by one they hugged him, pressing kisses onto his cheek. He never thought that would happen either. He kept his hand on Seychelle, not allowing her to abandon him. He wasn’t altogether certain he would be able to handle all the attention. Around them, his brothers and Alena and Lana grinned like idiots. Seychelle was his anchor, allowing him to be gracious when he was on unfamiliar ground.
“The point,” he whispered, in between the hugs, “is that maybe I don’t mind quite as much as I thought I did. I’m thinking about it.”
The door opened, and Jackson Deveau sauntered in, carrying several brightly wrapped packages. His gaze swept the room, missing nothing, settling for a moment on Savage, a hint of satisfaction showing just for a moment. He wasn’t in uniform, but there was no doubt he was armed.
“Hannah heard it was Savage’s birthday, and she sent a few things for him,” Jackson said. “Jonas had a meeting, or he would have delivered the package himself. Instead, I offered.” He eyed the baskets of chicken Alena had put out on the table along with all the other food.
“You can put that right here, Jackson,” Inez said helpfully, leading the way to the gift table.
Savage watched Jackson trail along behind her, carrying the brightly wrapped packages from Hannah. The deputy’s features were always the same: totally unreadable, except for that one moment when his eyes had met Savage’s. He kept looking at the chicken, not at Savage, but suspicion crept into Savage’s mind and took hold. Where had the women gotten the idea to make him an honorary member of the Red Hat Society? Jackson Deveau, that was where. That underhanded bastard of a sheriff’s deputy, that was who had planted the seed and poured water and fertilizer on it until it grew. Savage knew absolutely that he was right. And he was there to gloat. To see how Savage was taking his little prank. He knew how sacred a man’s bike was. Jackson’s father had ridden with a club.
“Take a breath, honey,” Seychelle advised. She hooked her arm around his neck and went up on her toes to brush kisses over his mouth. “Think about all the packages your brothers have on that table. Most likely, they gave you really preposterous sex toys just to freak me out.”
She was more than likely right about that. “Jackson Deveau is behind this. He just threw down the gauntlet. It is on.” He whispered it into her mouth. “He has no idea who he’s fucking with. I’m going to get the club to help me with the next prank. We can get very creative.” He licked the curve of her lower lip and then tugged at it with his teeth.
“In the meantime, show him you’re such a good sport,” she advised. “You love what the ladies gave you. That will get to him more than anything. Act like you don’t have a clue he had anything at all to do with it.”
“If he wasn’t married to Hannah’s youngest sister, I’d ask her to fill his entire house with toads,” he muttered under his breath.
Seychelle burst into laughter, her arms going around his neck, head tilted back, looking up at him with pure joy. Pure love. What the hell did anything matter when he had her? He laughed with her and spun her around, taking her with him to the food table. He would have opened some of the gifts if no one but Torpedo Ink had been there, but he wasn’t going to embarrass Seychelle in front of her friends—or the cop. Although, looking at the older women, he had a sneaking suspicion some of them might have enjoyed whatever Torpedo Ink had given to them in those packages sitting so innocently on the table.
The bar seemed overflowing with bikers, not just Diamondbacks but members of the Venomous, Twisted Steel and Headed for Hell clubs. They’d brought their women with them and they weren’t causing any trouble, but the underlying mood, at times, was tense. Savage just plain didn’t need that shit, not with his woman onstage. It was supposed to be a relatively easygoing evening. Fun, even. He didn’t want her to think the club was using her to calm everyone the fuck down. He wanted her to know the club was looking out for her. Taking her in. Enfolding her into their family.