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  He watched her assess his response with a skeptical expression. Did she sense the honesty in his confession? Seconds passed like minutes, minutes like hours. Months of pent-up sexual energy sparked between them. He slid his hand beneath her hair, drawing her closer. She was looking at him like she wanted to dissolve into him. Finally. He leaned in for the kiss, and just as quickly as their passion built, coolness descended over her face, lowering the sweet curve of her lips as she leaned back, putting space between them.

  She turned her body toward the table, and lowered her feet to the floor, sitting up straighter and leaving him to wonder what the hell had just happened. He’d been this close to taking the kiss he’d been craving for months.

  “Crystal…?”

  The shrill ringtone for the Dark Knights Motorcycle Club he and his brothers were members of, and his father headed up, broke through his confusion, and he whipped his phone out of his pocket. His heart thundered—from their almost kiss or the club alert, he couldn’t be sure.

  He answered the call, listening to his oldest brother, Bullet, relaying the information about Trevor “Scooter” Mackelby, a seven-year-old boy whose mother had caught the attention of one of the club members when she’d posted on Facebook about her son being bullied. The Dark Knights had “adopted” him into their club and had sworn to protect him. There had been an incident at school, and now Scooter was afraid to go to sleep. Tonight the club members would rally around Scooter’s house, staying until morning, to ensure he felt safe.

  “I need to drop Crystal at her car and grab my bike,” he said to Bullet. “I’ll meet you there.”

  He stepped from the booth and threw cash on the table, wishing he could delve into their almost kiss, but there was no time. “I’m sorry, sugar, but duty calls. I’ve got to take off.”

  Confusion clouded her eyes. “Duty?”

  “Club business.” They hurried out to the truck, and he explained about Scooter on the way back to Truman’s to get her car. His great-grandfather had formed the Dark Knights, and his father, who went by the road name Biggs, for his six-five height, was the president. Bear and his brothers had been brought up to respect the brotherhood and honor its creed.

  “‘Love, loyalty, and respect for all’ runs as thick as blood through our veins. A blessing and a curse.” He went on to explain how they’d connected with Scooter and gave her examples of when they’d helped in similar situations in neighboring towns.

  “So, if a kid or an adult is bullied—”

  “Or abused,” he corrected her.

  “Or abused, you guys all sit outside his house until he feels safe?”

  “Essentially, but not always. It depends on the situation. Schools, teachers, even the police, can’t do much when it comes to bullies. The victims are left feeling weak and vulnerable. We empower them to tell and to know they have support. By getting involved and showing up in force—outside their house, for example, or around their block, or escorting them to school or work—the person who is hurting them realizes the victim is not alone and vulnerable. We’re there to protect them.”

  “But what if they’re abused and not bullied, by an adult?”

  Bear ground his teeth together to ward off the anger the question incited. “We’re there for those cases, too. And when they go to court, we escort them. The whole club, on our bikes, in front of and behind their parents’ cars. And we line up in court to show our support.”

  “Intimidating the abuser?”

  “That’s a nice side effect, but our goal is to empower the victim and make them feel safe.”

  He pulled up in front of Tru’s house and climbed from the truck, coming around to open Crystal’s door and help her out. “Think of it this way. If they call a social worker at ten o’clock at night, they’re not going to get an answer. Once they’re ‘adopted’ by our club, they’re a member for life, and we stand by them no matter what time of day or night. It all started a few years ago, when my father met a family who had lost their son to suicide after he’d been bullied. They were from Florida, but it opened his eyes. He brought the mission up to the members, and now it’s part of who we are.”

  She dug in her bag for her keys. “That’s impressive. I’m surprised there haven’t been articles about you guys.” Finally finding her keys, she unlocked her car door.

  “We don’t want press. It’s all about helping the victims.” He stepped closer, and she backed up, giving him a clear signal that whatever had scared her off in Woody’s was still hanging around.

  “I had a nice time tonight,” he said. “Thanks for letting me dip my fry in your shake.”

  She smiled and shook her head, her eyes sliding to the ground. She looked adorably sexy. Another glimpse into that softer side of his tough girl.

  With a finger beneath her chin, he lifted her face so she had to meet his gaze. “That goes for you, too. If you don’t feel safe at any time, any hour, you know you can call me.”

  She looked at him for a long moment, as if she was struggling to decide if she should make a smart-ass remark, or go with the heat between them. It seemed to be the look du jour.

  A smile crept across her face, and she climbed into her car. “And feed into that big head of yours? I don’t need protecting, but I’m glad you’re helping that little boy.”

  He leaned in and kissed her cheek. He’d snuck kisses like this a few times, but it always felt like the first time. His lips lingered on her warm skin, soaking in her feminine scent. “You haven’t seen my big head yet, sugar. But I’m pretty sure you’ll like it even more than the one you’ve been staring at all night. Drive safely.”

  She closed the door and rolled down the window. “Why do you keep texting me your name?”

  He felt himself grinning. “I may have been out of sight, but I’ll make damn sure I’m not off your mind. ’Night, sugar. Drop me a text to let me know you got home okay, and lock your doors.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I will if I want to.”

  “Oh, you do.” He blew her a kiss, listening to the sound of her locks clicking into place and wondering how long it would be before his phone vibrated with a text.

  Chapter Two

  CRYSTAL SPREAD THE designs she’d been working on out over the table at the boutique Thursday afternoon and stepped back, giving Gemma room to assess them. A few weeks ago Gemma had mentioned wanting to expand the boutique, and they’d discussed several options, including creating and selling their own costumes. Crystal had gone to college for business and fashion design, and she’d tinkered with designing her own clothes ever since. She had transformed her dining room into a quasi design studio when she’d first moved in and had been dabbling in making her own clothes ever since. Recently she’d begun playing around with a few new costume ideas. They purchased costumes in bulk from large suppliers, which allowed them to keep a nice variety in stock.

  “Wow, you’ve been busy.” Gemma tucked her brown and gold hair behind her ear, studying the designs.

  Princess for a Day was Gemma’s brainchild, and what Crystal loved most about it was that it had nothing to do with stereotyping girls as frilly little princesses and everything to do with enabling girls of any age to become whatever they wanted, at least for a few hours. They offered costumes for just about everything, from rockers and academic princesses to construction workers and goth princesses. Girls could dress up in leather or lace, tomboy outfits, and just about anything else they could dream up. As Crystal thought up new designs, she realized that with their own designs, the possibilities were endless.

  Gemma and Crystal wore the costumes they offered, and Crystal loved when Gemma pushed her outfits beyond the proper confines of societal norms. Today Gemma wore a fancy Snow-White-meets-Lolita princess costume, complete with white thigh-high stockings, shiny black Mary Jane’s, and a short dress similar enough to Snow White’s for children to make the only connection they should. Even though they were best friends, Crystal’s goth cheerleader outfit, complete with fishnet st
ockings and a black spike choker, underscored their differences. But while Gemma wore the outfits that rang true to who she was inside and out, Crystal’s were only partially driven by who she was. They were mostly derived from the persona she needed to convey in order to feel safe.

  “These are just sketches,” Crystal finally responded. “But I think they’ll add a unique flair to the princess realm. I took the warrior princess idea from Game of Thrones. You know that tall, sword-carrying blonde? She’s my inspiration. I think lots of little girls dream of being that kick-ass. And the snow goddess is one of my favorites. We can make the boot covers out of white faux fur, and give the girls a choice of a long flowing dress accented with gold and sparkle appliqué to simulate snowflakes, or a knee-length outfit with tights. I love the nerd princess idea, and the banker princess, because, let’s face it, some girls are number ninjas.”

  She fidgeted with the jagged edges of her skirt, anxious to hear Gemma’s thoughts on her designs. In the silence, her mind drifted back to last night. She hadn’t texted Bear when she’d arrived home, as he’d asked. She’d wanted to, but they’d been so close to kissing, she felt like they were on the cusp of taking their long history of excruciatingly hot flirting to the next level. And she wasn’t ready for that. Yet.

  For months his attention had had her insides whirling like a tornado, and working on these designs had thrown her right back to her college days, bringing an onslaught of both good and painful memories. The combination of both was overwhelming. Determined not to be defined by her dysfunctional family or where she’d come from, she had reinvented herself when she’d gone to college, and she’d done a hell of a job. She’d even gone by a different name. “Chrystina” had been everything “Chrissy” wasn’t, and people had liked her. She was girly and proper and smart, of course, because her father had always drilled the importance of good grades into her head. And despite her mother’s fall down the rabbit hole, she wasn’t a stupid woman. But just over two years into her wonderful new life, one party, and one treacherously bad decision, had brought her world crashing down around her—and no-bullshit, hard-as-nails, don’t-fuck-with-me “Crystal” was born. Creating a reputation for being into tough guys and having a penchant for one-night stands had made her emotionally untouchable, and that had kept her safe and sane.

  “These are great,” Gemma said, bringing Crystal’s mind back to the moment. “But do you really think we can make them and still keep up with the business? Between the kids and the boutique, I have so little free time.”

  “I think so, if we start small. Maybe we make a few of one outfit so production is rote, and see how they sell. If they do well, we can recruit design students to work—”

  “I can’t afford a manufacturing staff,” Gemma interrupted. “I guess we could see what it would cost to have them made overseas or something.”

  “I don’t think we need to do that. Just hear me out.” Crystal moved the papers over and sat on the table, getting more excited by the second. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she’d find such a fabulous friend, much less have the opportunity to be part of something so exciting. “As I said, we can start by making a few costumes ourselves. I’ll do it after hours.”

  “Says the girl who’s going to get a big honking ticket because she doesn’t have time to get her car inspected,” Gemma reminded her.

  “I know. I’ll get to that this week.” She knew that probably wasn’t going to happen, given the limited hours of the inspection station, but hoping it was true kept her anxieties at bay.

  “I have a sewing machine. I just need the production materials. If they sell well and there’s enough demand, then we can recruit fashion design students and offer them a piece of the pie. I’d have given anything to have an opportunity like this when I was in school. They basically work for free for the first few months, until we get ahead of our costs. Then they get a commission off of each piece that sells. It’s a win-win. They can use their experience on their résumés, like a commissioned internship.”

  “Or even better, maybe some of them stay on and we can build a staff.” Gemma’s green eyes glittered with enthusiasm. “I know how we can free up some of your time. I’ll call the store where we ordered my wedding dress and set up a fitting instead of having you hem it and take it in.” Gemma’s dress wasn’t a typical wedding gown. Two weeks ago she’d fallen in love with a knee-length white satin dress with a strapless crisscross bodice, a layer of chiffon over the skirt, and a jeweled sash. She looked gorgeous in it, but they’d had to order her size, and Jewel Braden, the manager of Chelsea’s Boutique, where they’d found the dress, had warned her that that particular dress almost always needed to be fitted.

  “Are you sure? Does Chelsea’s even do fittings?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Jewel said they have a part-time seamstress. It’s perfect. We can bring Dixie and look for your dresses at the same time. That is, if you don’t mind going with me? That’s a maid-of-honor thing, isn’t it?”

  Crystal laughed. “It’s a best friend thing, and I’m totally on board with it. Let me know when they can do it.” She’d never imagined being anyone’s maid of honor, and when Gemma had asked her, she’d actually teared up. “There’s so much you can do with the company if we make our own costumes. I know you weren’t sold on taking the franchising plunge, and if this goes well, you can sell your designs to similar boutiques all over the country. No need to franchise. Then you’d just need to hire someone to manage the production.”

  “Wouldn’t that be amazing? But while I think we can afford the material costs for a few costumes, if you’re talking about making them in bulk, there are other associated costs.”

  “Right,” Crystal agreed. “I’ve thought about that, too. Depending on how big you want to go at that point, we can either do some grassroots marketing or get a bank loan.”

  Gemma looked over the designs again. “Starting small is the way to go. If it takes off, we’ll figure out the rest. You’re really talented, Crys. You never told me why you stopped going to college.”

  “Sure I did.” She slipped off the table and gathered the designs into a stack. “I ran out of money.” She hated lying, but the last thing she wanted was pity, especially from Gemma. They’d met shortly after Crystal had returned to Peaceful Harbor, and she’d been barely holding her shit together. Gemma had been her saving grace. She’d offered friendship and a job Crystal adored, both of which she might not have given so readily had she known how broken Crystal had been back then.

  Pushing those thoughts away, she went behind the register and put the designs in her bag to work on later that evening. “I’m going to start bringing out the costumes.” She went into the back room, checked the costumes to make sure they had all their pieces, and tugged the tall metal clothing rack toward the front of the store.

  Gemma looked up from where she was crouched beside the accessory bucket in the play area. “Are you going to tell me how last night went with Bear? Or should I pretend you didn’t come over and leave without ever saying hello to me?”

  Crystal laughed. “Jealous?”

  She set the rack by the dressing area and went back for another, passing Gemma on the way. “I forgot to tell you. The wedding cake tasting is set up for two weeks from Saturday. I requested several flavors because how often do you get to do a wedding cake tasting?”

  Gemma was the closest thing to a sister she would ever have, and she hoped she was doing enough to help her prepare for the wedding. She and Truman had wanted a simple backyard wedding. They’d ordered flowers from Petal Me Hard, a local florist, and Crystal had already arranged for the rental of tables and chairs. One of their customers had suggested they call Finlay Wilson, a caterer who had just moved back to Peaceful Harbor and hadn’t yet reopened her business. Finlay was super sweet and so easy to work with. They’d instantly hit it off. She was also affordable and excited about catering the wedding.

  “Sounds fun. I can’t wait. But stop changing the subject a
nd tell me what happened with Bear! I told you all about Tru when we started dating.”

  Crystal hiked a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to get the costumes. There’s nothing to tell. We had burgers. He dipped his fry in my milk shake.”

  Gemma gasped. “He did? Was it amazing?”

  “You are a filthy-minded princess,” Crystal teased. “We went to Woody’s. Can’t chat any more or my boss will dock me for gossiping on company time.”

  “Sounds like a real bitch,” Gemma called after her.

  Crystal pushed through the doors to the back room, threw a few extra costumes on another rack, and headed back into the shop, dragging the rack behind her. The front door chimed, playing the boutique’s special tune, and she was shocked to see Bear walking in.

  His eyes locked on hers, and a wicked grin lifted his lips as he closed the distance between them like a lion on the prowl. He wore the same clothes he’d had on last night. His hair was tousled, his chiseled jaw covered in a thick layer of dark whiskers. Knowing he had spent a sleepless night to ensure a little boy felt safe brought a collision of overwhelming emotions.

  He raked his eyes down the length of her body, awakening all the parts she was struggling to ignore as he placed a hand possessively on her hip and kissed her cheek.

  Had last night’s kiss on the cheek opened a door? He’d stolen two or three cheek kisses in the past, but this wasn’t a stolen kiss. It felt like a kiss of ownership. Was this his new and improved greeting? She liked it a lot more than she probably should.

  “Good afternoon, sugar,” he said in a gravelly voice full of lust and fatigue. It slithered beneath her skin and settled in like steam from an iron.

  Her heart melted a little every time he called her sugar, but hearing it in that voice made her wonder what it would sound like when their bodies were intertwined. She shifted her eyes away, pushing past the lustful thoughts that had been surprising her a lot more often lately. There had been a time when fear of being close to a man could swallow her whole. After years of therapy she’d finally gone out on a few dates, and surprisingly, she’d never felt anything. Not panic, not lust. Nothing. But when she played around with those thoughts about Bear, desire consumed her. She was sure that she was too attracted to him, and if they were close, she’d probably lose her mind.