Breathe, Joslyn! I repeat to myself over and over as the clock reaches five thirty. Brittany left ten minutes ago, and I have been pacing the floor ever since.

I walk over to the mirror and look at myself one last time. The dress is casual, and it hugs my curves, but it isn’t too tight. The cold shoulders style is very flattering on my skin and makes me look sexier than I am. The heels just set off the dress.

I believe I am way overdressed, but Wilder wanted me in this, and this is what I am going to do. My makeup is light, but my smoky eyeshadow makes my dark brown eyes pop. My curls have been brushed out, and they hang down my back—beautiful.

The door opens and I spin around to face Wilder, who is wearing jeans and a black button-down shirt that is rolled up to his elbows, showing off his tattoos.

He is so hot.

He stumbles and grips the edge of the couch. His eyes move up and down my body. “Joslyn, you’re so beautiful.”

I couldn’t stop the smile even if I wanted to. For the first time in a long time, I do feel beautiful.

“God,” he mutters and splits the distance between us. His hand rests on my hip, pulling me against him.

He feels so amazing, the warmth he radiates and the protective vibe he gives me. I love that he makes me feel safe; it’s intoxicating.

“We have a dinner reservation at six.” He lets me go and takes my hand. He smiles. “You ready?”

Am I ready?

“Yeah, let’s go.”

What he doesn’t know is that I am internally freaking out.

He opens the truck door. How am I supposed to get in there? If I climb in, I will be flashing literally everything, and my legs are short.

“I got you, Sweetheart.” He scoops me up and sets me in the seat as if I weighed nothing.

“Thank you.”

He touches my cheek and shuts the door.

“Oh my God!” I whisper, my arm pressed into my stomach as I try to contain myself. My heart is about to fly out of my chest, and my stomach is completely upside down with nerves.

Beautiful isn’t the right word to describe her. I almost fell at the sight of her when I walked in the house. She looked at me and I just can’t get over it.

I have wanted her since the moment I first saw her at the bakery, and when she asked to go to the concert, I decided to make my move and have this be our first date. I want us to go at her pace, but I couldn’t let this opportunity pass.

“Where are we going to eat?” She shifts in her seat to get more comfortable.

“Frances.”

Her eyes widen. “The fancy restaurant that is usually booked months in advance?” she asks.

“We own it.”

Her mouth falls open, and I chuckle at her reaction. She is adorable as she blushes and looks at her lap.

“I never thanked you for this beautiful dress and shoes, Wilder. Thank you. I love it.” She runs her hands down her dress.

I bring her hand to my lips, kissing the back. “Anything for you, Sweetheart.”

She touches her chest and looks out the window. I grin because I can tell she is affected.

Good, that is exactly what I want.

A few minutes later we pull up in front of the restaurant. We have reserved parking spaces for members of the club.

“I will help you out.” She already has her door open. I don’t want someone to accidentally get a better view of her legs that I want them to, because then I will just have to kill them.

I pull her door the rest of the way open and wrap my arm around her middle, lifting her from her seat. I set her on her feet. Her head reaches the top of my shoulders because of the heels, but I still tower over her.

Once we are seated, I open my menu. “Brittany is such a Sweetheart,” I tell him.

He laughs. “Yeah, she is sweet, but she also has a mean side.”

I laugh with him. “Don’t we all?”

He arches an eyebrow at me questioningly. “Sweetheart, I don’t think you have a mean bone in your body.”

I shrug because, in the end, I am not someone who could be mean to anyone. “I am not someone who loves confrontation. I tend to avoid it, but I would do everything in my power to protect those I love.”

“That is an amazing trait to have, Sweetheart.” He lifts my hand off the table, kissing the back once more. My stomach flips once again, my nerves going haywire.

“What can I get you guys to drink?” The waitress scared the crap out of me. I was too distracted by Wilder’s lips on my hand.

“I want a water.”

She looks to Wilder, and he orders the same.

I haven’t even glanced at my menu yet, and I almost fall over when I see the prices. This place is very expensive.

“Joslyn, don’t even dare to go cheap.”

I internally wince because I’ve been caught looking at the kids’ menu. I think I will just get a ribeye steak and a small side salad. I am too scared to reach outside of that norm because I might not like the food.

“Where do you see yourself in a few years?” Wilder asks.

I contemplate what to say that wouldn’t be cheesy. “Honestly? I love baking, but what I want more than anything is to be a mom.” I laugh thinking of what it would be like with a bunch of babies running around. “I want at least four.” Wilder’s smile grows as I talk. “What about you, Wilder?”

He stares at me intensely, which makes me nervous. “I want the same things you want in life. I am twenty-seven years old, it’s time for me to settle down, get married, and have babies running around.”

We want the same things. There’s nothing I want more in this world than to feel a new life growing inside me, hold my sweet baby, and watch my child grow. I would strive to be the best mother I could possibly be.

To be the mother that I never had.

“It seems we have a lot more in common than we thought, Sweetheart.”

I lift my menu to hide my smile. I will never tire of hearing him call me Sweetheart.

* * *

We make it to the arena just in time. It is filled to the brim and, much to my utter surprise, we have front-row seats right below the stage.

“I can’t believe we have front-row seats!” I bounce in my seat, barely able to contain myself. “This is my first concert.”

The lights dim, and one of my favorite country singers runs out onto the stage. I grab Wilder’s hand and pull him out of his seat.

“How is everyone tonight!” the singer yells into the mic and I scream loudly. I feel Wilder shaking and I see him grinning at me. He throws his arm over my shoulder, pulling me to his side and kissing my temple.

Act cool, Joslyn. Don’t let him see how much that really affected you.

* * *

It’s an hour into the show, and Wilder has pressed himself against my back, his chin resting on my head and his arms wrapped around my middle. We are swaying side-to-side, my arms resting on top of his.

“Men, grab your ladies close, this is a song for y’all,” the singer announces, and couples all around us start moving.

“Joslyn,” Wilder says and I freeze. He turns me around in his arms, and I push my hair out of my face, looking up at him. He takes my hands, resting them on his shoulders, and his arms surround my waist.

He looks deep into my eyes as the song moves my soul. I have never felt this way before. No man has made me feel this way before. Looking at him, being with him like this, makes me want him more than anything.

His forehead rests against mine. The singer belts out, “Thank God I am yours.”

I close my eyes, lifting my hands to his neck. He sways us side-to-side. “Baby,” he whispers, and I open my eyes to see him staring at my lips.

He wants to kiss me.

I nod and he takes his cue, pressing his lips to mine.

His hands move from my waist to my jawline, controlling the kiss. I am just here for the ride. His lips move over mine slowly, sensually. As he draws out the kiss, his finger strokes my cheekbones.

The song ends, and he pulls away and presses a kiss on my cheek. I giggle, pressing my cheek to his chest, looking at the band on the stage.

Someone touches my arm, and the woman standing next to me leans in to tell me something. “You’re one lucky woman.”

“I know.”

* * *

The concert ends around eleven, and my feet are absolutely killing me. I can barely walk. I am not used to wearing heels, and I have been standing for close to four hours.

Everyone leaving the arena is absolutely crazy. Something hard hits me on the back making me stumble, and Wilder’s quick reflexes catch me before I fall. He pulls me to his side. I wince, as my feet hurt ten times worse than they did before the person who ran into me stepped on my foot.

“What’s wrong, Joslyn?” He pulls me away from the crowd.

“My feet are killing me.”

He bends down in front of me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, shocked, as he lifts my foot and takes off my shoe.

“Fuck, Baby.” He inspects my other foot; then he puts the shoes back on my feet.

“I will be fine.”

He gives me a look telling me he isn’t buying it. One arm touches my back and the other moves to my knee as he picks me up.

I never expected for him to carry me. “I am too heavy, Wilder. I will be fine.”

He shakes his head and keeps walking, with me in his arms. “If I am able to stop you from being in pain, I will. No matter what.”

That stopped me from saying anything else. What do you say to that?

* * *

Joslyn fell asleep the moment she lay down on the couch to unwind, watching TV. I have gotten five texts from Lane, and I know something is going down.

I walk upstairs to my bedroom and call Lane, and he answers instantly. “What is it, Lane?”

“Some fucking drug cartel is trying to poach in our town. Derek and Travis saw some of the fuckers in town trying to sell dope. Travis beat the fuck out of one of them, and he told us this drug lord is wanting our town.”

“Fuck!” I run my hands through my hair.

“I am calling back the OGs from their state-to-state ride.”

“That is a good idea.”

The OGs are the Original Members. There are ten Original Members, including Lane’s father, Smiley, and my dad. Four Originals stayed here because they are married and won’t leave their wives. The others, who are single, are having their yearly ride.

I guess we are going to fucking war.

“I am going to warn the Devil Souls MC. They may try to make a play with them. Prospects are at the disposal of the women. They are never to be left alone. One of the guys or a prospect will be around if you are not.”

Fuck, this shit isn’t going to be good, but one thing is for sure: we don’t fucking fail.