“Just the block.” I threaded my fingers through hers. “We have connections.”
The street was packed with posh-looking people, trendy thirty-somethings, college students . . . and then the motorcycle club. Everyone from Retribution MC had shown, including their women, as well as the ladies of Redemption MC. All but Brodie and Ashe, who were still on full-bore baby watch for the foreseeable future.
“So many people.” She stood beside me, tugging at the bottom of her classy dress.
I squeezed her hand, and she looked up at me—young and unsure. “Hey. Don’t hide yourself anymore, Shy.”
“Everyone can see it.” Her lips drew into a tight line.
I caressed the tension away with a brush of my fingertip. “What’d I tell you?”
“It’s not ugly.” Her frown didn’t soften.
“What else?” I urged.
“I’m brave.” Tears suddenly shimmered in her eyes.
“Yup. And you’re absolutely beautiful.”
“Okay.”
“Good.” I released her hand to let her stand on her own.
I handed her the key but before she unlocked the door, I whispered against her ear. “Now you make a speech. And you own it.”
Shy nodded and stepped up onto the top step.
A hush fell over the huge crowd, and she cleared her throat nervously. “Passion for Fashion used to be just a dream of mine. It became a reality when I realized dreams aren’t just unattainable fantasies, but future goals.” Her voice started out shaky until she hit her stride. “I had to make PfF happen after I was diagnosed with bone cancer.” With a flick of her skirt, she actually drew attention to her amputation for the first time since she’d walked back into my life.
“Not that I’m aimin’ to play the pity card, y’all.” She grinned and winked, pausing for laughs as she tilted her face to the side. “I couldn’t have done it without my boyfriend”—she leaned over to kiss my cheek—“or his friends from Retribution Motorcycle Club. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m no fan of long-winded speeches so . . .” Unlocking the door, she flashed the most beautiful smile. “Thank you for joining me tonight, and welcome to Passion for Fashion! Please help yourselves to the refreshments, and make me some money!”
She kicked off another surge of laughter with her last comment.
And a huge fucking surge of pride for her swelled inside me.
The rest was drowned out in cheers, claps, whistles, and nonstop congratulations as the gathered folks filed into PfF.
Yeah. She owned it all right.
With my hand at the base of her spine, I ushered her inside where everything was subtly lit and all done up. Complete with catering and free booze. Sure hoped no one spilled on the duds because I’d learned that shit was expensive.
From that point on the opening went off without a hitch.
Shy.
Charming folks was a natural talent for her. Southern hospitality? Check. She had that in spades. And by hooking up with me and hanging with my crew, then spending evenings at high money fundraising galas, she’d already proven herself in touch with all the people.
She put every ounce of charisma to work as she worked the room.
I did my best not to baby Shy or—you know—constantly ask her if she was all right or if she needed a breather. I plied her with food and drinks instead and tried not to cast too big a shadow by hovering too close.
But she had something else in mind when she reached for my hand and dragged me to the top of the store. She situated us in front of a large rectangular table I hadn’t seen set up earlier, and I didn’t know what was on the table now, because a long white cloth covered tall, bumpy-looking shapes.
Looked like some kind of big reveal was about to happen as she gave me a sneaky smile.
“What are you doing?” I asked her.
She ignored me, instead giving the thumbs up signal to Boomer Steele.
“Yo. The lady needs your attention!” he boomed out, the big man commanding attention with Rayce at his side.
Shy curled her arm around my waist, speaking to the room at large. “I know. I said screw the big speeches. This is just a little one, I promise.” With a snap of her thumb, the table behind us was unveiled with a snap of cloth.
I turned to have a look, then I stopped blinking altogether.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Retribrewtion
A TALL SIGN WITH my brand new brewery label stood inside a circle of four ice-filled steel buckets overflowing with . . .
“Drink up! You’re Max’s first taste-testers. Retribrewtion will be on sale soon,” Shy shouted, grinning from ear to ear while I looked on, absolutely dumfounded. “Don’t forget to pick up a postcard and visit the website to sign up for the newsletter so you don’t miss Retribrewtion’s grand opening!”
Website?
Newsletter?
She’d had my beer professionally bottled, labeled, and finished the early marketing.
While I’d been working on her store, she’d been starting my business for me.