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also leaning heavily on her distaste for bikers.
    To her dismay, her mother had brushed her off with a very unlike-her response. “You’re a woman now, and you have your own mind and your own life. It’s up to you to decide how to live it.” Then she’d handed her a platter of freshly baked cookies and told her to have a good time.
    So here she was, not at all sure she was making the right decision, but she needed to put the burning curiosity coursing through her veins to bed, and the only way she could think to do it was by stepping straight into the inferno. Afterward, with her curiosity sated, she could leave it all behind. Go back to being a school teacher without so much as an inkling of wonder for the six-foot-something leather-clad biker whose stern brow and forbidding stare twisted something deep inside her.
    With an unsteady breath, Gabby pushed open the car door and strode up the gravel drive, her wedge heels rocking precariously as they sunk into the uneven gravel. Following the clamor of voices and music around back, she found herself walking into a mammoth party. Hell, there had to be a few dozen people, at least, and that didn’t include all the children running around. Coming from a small, three-person family, she wasn’t at all prepared for something so…social.
    While she gathered another bout of courage, Gabby observed those in attendance. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t exactly what was laid out before her. There were men in leather vests, sure. Women in too-tight clothing, of course. They were hardly the exception, but they were hardly the rule either. There was a heathy mix of people of all types, but regardless of how they were or weren’t dressed, they all screamed one thing: family.
    Men stood around laughing and drinking beers. Women with kids on their laps chatted with smiles on their faces. Children played tag and shot each other with water pistols. There was a swing set across the way and a trampoline, both in full use by kids and adults alike.
    Gabby’s jaw dropped a bit when she spotted some familiar faces: A nice middle-aged cashier she’d made acquaintance with whose son was in the military, and an older gentleman she ran into each Sunday at the carryout when on her weekly drive out of town. He’d told her once about his wife, who’d come down with dementia a little over two years ago. He was always nice.
    It was then she started to feel some of her nerves dissipate. Knowing some of the people here put it all into perspective for her. They were just normal, everyday people living everyday lives just like her. It wasn’t as if they were going to whip out their guns and shoot her on the spot for not being a part of their gang.
    If they even were a gang.
    Gabby was quickly readjusting her view of them, ashamed for having lumped them into a narrow scope of assumptions. Blake told her this was an opportunity to change her mindset, and so she planned to find out which one of them was wrong.
    Speak of the devil.
    A shadow eclipsed the sun, and Gabby looked up, mouth running dry as Blake headed her way. Apart from his bike, he towered over her. The skin around his neck was already burnished by the sun, and his ebony hair shone richly from product. Once again he’d opted for a pair of worn jeans that fit his body to perfection, with a black leather vest, otherwise known as a cut, sporting a president patch, his name, and the name of their township.
    He strode up to her with absolute confidence, his expression set in what she decided to dub constipated. When he reached her, only stopping when they were nearly touching from shoulder to thigh, he folded his arms across his broad chest and stared her down.
    “Didn’t think you’d show.”
    Seeing right through his macho posturing and attempt to intimidate, Gabby canted her head to the side and smiled sweetly. “Well, you did invite me.”
    “Ash invited you. I was simply being nice.”
    Gabby snorted. Nice