“What’s a best man good for if he can’t pick up a ring?” He slaps my shoulder, leaning forward to press a kiss to Lacey’s cheek. “I’m going to make a quick run, check things out and get a handle on this hair,” he points to his wild locks, looking to me and giving me a look. Words may not have been spoken, but they were reflected in his eyes.
Going to check out the security on the property.
I got you, brother.
“Don’t you dare touch the hair,” Lacey orders, cocking her head to the side. “I mean comb it, maybe tie it back but if you so much as cut a centimeter of it—”
“Don’t you worry, girl. I know you like it…” His eyes turn to mine and he smiles sheepishly leaving the rest of his answer on his tongue. Smart fucking man.
Silently, I hand him the ring to keep safe until the ceremony and watch him walk out the door to check the perimeter of the building. I turn toward Lacey, noticing her eyes are still pinned to the door Blackie just walked through.
“Hey, pretty girl, where are you?” I question, stepping in front of her to draw her attention back to me. “Lace?”
Shaking away whatever thoughts took her mind hostage for a brief moment she averts her gaze back to mine and forces a smile.
“Sorry, I was daydreaming,” she explains.
I wanted to believe that Lacey was capable of the simple things like daydreams but knew it wasn’t likely. That bitch of a maker was planting seeds of fire in her brain but this time she was able to fight against it. Ignore the voice dragging her down. Wish like hell she fought and won every damn time. Wish like hell, I didn’t have to watch her battle her mind like I do.
The hyper florist stood alongside me, dropping a box on the bar before firing instructions at me and Lacey.
“Boutonnieres and bouquets are in there.” He points at Lacey. “Are you part of the wedding party?”
“I am the wedding party,” she laughs at the frazzled man in front of her, leaning over the box to inspect the contents. “I’ll take care of it,” she confirms, lifting a boutonniere.
“Are you ready to get married?” She questions, opening the clear plastic container holding the flowers.
“I’m ready,” I assure her, watching as she lifts the delicate flowers and pulls out the pin in the back of the arrangement. I angle my head to the side as I study her. I take a step back as I envision my little girl dressed as a bride and I am the one holding the flowers, handing her a bouquet before walking her down the aisle.
Shit, that will happen one day.
Probably a lot sooner than I’d like.
“One day it’ll be you,” I rasp, as she closes the space I put between us and touches the worn leather of my cut. She stares up at me through her long eyelashes, smiling as she pins the boutonniere beneath my patch declaring me the president of my club. “All dressed in white, you’ll probably want to make your grand entrance on a bike…”
“Will you take me to church on your bike with my big pretty dress?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“What if I asked you to wear a tux?”
A fucking tuxedo. Shit, I glance down at what I considered dress attire—black jeans, new so they still looked black and not gray, a white dress shirt and my leather cut. Oh, and the new leather moto boots that Reina insisted I buy for the wedding.
Reina was good with the biker wedding. As long as she got to pretty herself all up she didn’t care what I wore, aside from the worn boots. She wasn’t having it. Glancing around the clubhouse, taking in how the florist was making this place take shape for a wedding, I knew it was perfect for me and Reina but not Lacey.
Lacey would be the one to stuff me into a monkey suit.
They say a daughter is a man’s weakness. It’s the fucking truth.
She laughs as she smooths down her hand over my vest.
“I’m kidding,” she teases, kissing my cheek before stepping back and giving me a once over. “Okay, big guy, my job here is done. You look ready to marry the love of your life. It’s time for me to go primp the bride,” she declares, pressing another noisy kiss to my cheek. “I’m really happy for you, Dad.”
“Thanks, sweetheart, means a lot,” I reply, bringing her against my chest one more time.
“You’re going to squash the flowers!”
“Fuck it, we’ll get some more,” I kiss the top of her head. “Love you, Lace.”
“Love you too.”
After a few moments I loosen my grip on her, watch as she balances herself in her heels and grab the box of flowers on top of the bar.
“Where is the blushing bride, anyway?”
I grunt, shaking my head at the ridiculousness.
“She’s upstairs in my room, refusing to let me see her. I had to sleep here last night too and snuck out this morning so she could shimmy her ass in here,” I growl. “Woman is superstitious as all hell,” I say, taking another swig of the whiskey as Lacey’s laughter vibrates through me and her heels click across the floor.