Page 5 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Biker

Hannah was friendly to everyone. Quick to laugh. Always filling any awkward silence. She was more observant than people realized and capable of making me feel noticed without even trying.

I’d spent years answering her smiles with grunts, cutting conversations short, and finding reasons to leave whenever she got too close.

That was the only way I could handle being around her. Especially after that comment her brother made. It'd happened after some asshole made a rude comment about Hannah at a party. I'd shut it down fast enough that the guy never finished his sentence.

Everett clapped me on the shoulder and told me I was the only guy he never had to worry about around her.

I'd built my entire life around being loyal to the people I considered my found family. I'd rather deny what I wanted than betray his trust.

So that had made Hannah permanently off-limits. Until she invited me to a wedding.

I studied the wording of her messages again.

The references to drunk-crying and murder suggested she'd been drinking. The spelling was fine, but the tone was a hell of a lot more casual than the rare texts she’d sent me over the years.

Then I re-read them again.

Genuine family emergency. That phrase belonged to a sister asking her brother, not a woman asking me.

Reminding me murder would ruin Lyra's wedding. Sibling shorthand.

Please say yes. She'd never said something like that to me, not once, in all the years I'd known her.

Fuck. She hadn't meant to send it to me.

The suit comment fell into place with the rest of it. She’d never noticed me in a black suit, no matter how much I might have wanted her to.

I typed out a text.

Me: I think you meant to send this to Everett

My thumb hovered over the send button, then I deleted the whole goddamn thing.

If I sent that, she'd know. She'd redirect the plus-one request to her brother, which was where she'd meant to send it in the first place. The suit line would embarrass her for a day and then get filed away as one of those things drunk Hannah said to family.

The plus-one wouldn't be me.

Dammit. Despite everything, I wanted it to be me.

I shoved my phone in my pocket. It wasn't there ten seconds before I checked it again.

Twenty minutes later, after I’d finally refocused on the Harley, my phone rang.

I expected it to be Hannah, laughing and embarrassed and making excuses for drunk texting me on accident.

Instead, Everett's name filled the screen.

I answered. "Yeah?”

"You busy?"

"Not anymore."

Everett exhaled. "Lyra sent me a text last night. Hannah found out James is the best man. She didn’t take it well.”

“That sucks. Think she’ll be okay?”

“I’d go, but I finally got a lunch meeting with that investor I’ve been trying to nail down for months,” Everett continued. “She really should have someone there for her, though.”