With my head down, I scurry past the rows of guests and rush toward my mama’s Toyota Prius. Unlocking the door, I slide into the driver’s seat and brace my hands against the steering wheel.
Daisy. A silly name for such a beautiful boy.
No, not a boy; a man—most definitely a man. Shamelessly, I’d allowed my eyes to rake over him. He was tall and slim; but with toned, muscular arms patterned with colorful tattoos. His scruffy blond hair and beard seemed to mask his age, but I’d guess at early twenties.
He was a biker and like nearly all the other men at the wedding, he was wearing one of the black leather vests all the Sinners wore. At first glance he’d looked too young to be a biker, but when our eyes met, there was a maturity and a hardness in his gaze I hadn’t expected.
He was the first person, other than my parents, who had spoken to me in weeks. When he’d reached out to shake my hand, I was so surprised I’d reciprocated without even thinking about it. His grip had been gentle, and his thumb had rubbed circles on my skin.
I wanted to speak to him. I’d opened my mouth to tell him my name, but I missed my chance. Instead my father had interrupted, and I’d run away like a child.
Tears pool in my eyes and my father’s voice rings in my ears. I start to replay what had happened with him before Daisy had arrived.
There were so many people there. Cautiously, I skirted the crowd and spotted my father talking to a group of people, at the side of the rows of wedding seating. Approaching him silently, I gently placed my hand on his suit jacket to let him know I was there. The moment his gaze landed on me, his cheerful face darkened and grabbing me around the wrist he dragged me away from the group, squeezing my wrist tightly. “Angelique, what the hell are you doing here?” He snapped angrily.
In the face of his anger I instantly dropped my head forward and stared at the ground. “Mama sent me; you forgot your cellphone.”
He dropped my wrist, and I fought the urge to cradle my sore skin. “I don’t want you around these types of people,” he sneered, his eyes flitting from right to left.
“Why not? It’s just a wedding,” I asked, confusion clear in my tone.
My father scoffed and took a menacing step closer. “Exactly, Angelique. You don’t see the problem because you’re an idiot.”
This wasn’t the first time he’d told me I was an idiot. This wasn’t even the first time he’d told me today. My father loved to remind me that I was stupid. His face was red now and his words had become an angry hiss. “These people are bikers—criminal scum. The Doomsday Sinners are bottom feeders who should be run out of Archer’s Creek.”
I spoke before I thought and instantly wished I could take back the words. “Mama says they’re nice folk.”
He laughed, a dry haughty sound that made me tense. “Nice. Nice. Well your mama’s an idiot too, always has been and always will be. The Doomsday Sinners are dangerous, they’d chew up and spit out a little moron like you. I don’t ever want to see you near any of them ever again.”
There was no point arguing. Answering him back wouldn’t end well, so instead I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
His voice dropped lower and his words seethed from him. “I’m serious, Angelique. Unless you want to end up like your sister, a biker whore. She got in with those bastards and look what happened to her. She’s dead.”
His daughter was dead. Why wasn’t his voice cracking with emotion at the acknowledgment that his oldest child was no longer alive? He sounded like he enjoyed saying the words and I silently gritted my teeth together, forcing the angry accusation that was desperate to escape to stay on my tongue. I pushed the words down, squeezed the fabric of my dress between my clenched fists and stayed quiet.
I wanted to leave, to run away from my awful father and his nasty diatribe of insults. But I didn’t. Instead, I stayed still and let him angrily dishonor the memory of my sister. “Your sister was a slut who couldn’t keep her legs closed. She sullied our good name and made a fool of me. I refuse to allow you to behave like that too. Just look at you, all fancied up. Is that why you’re here, to look for a biker to whore yourself out to?”
Overwhelmed with shame at his words, I dropped my chin until it nearly touched my chest. My hair fell around my face, hiding me from his anger and horrible insinuations. I clasped my hands together tightly and fought the urge to scream that I wasn’t a whore and neither was Nicole.
My sister fell in love and then she died. I was never allowed to grieve for her. Instead I’d spent the last two years listening to him sully her memory and call her mean and nasty names. My sister was a good person. She sheltered me from him, but now she was gone.
His vicious words continued and like normal I stood quietly and took them. “I won’t have another promiscuous daughter. I will correct the mistakes your sister made with you. You’re too stupid to make sensible decisions by yourself, just like your mother. I don’t know what I did to deserve such idiots in my life.”
Silently I listened, never responding, ignoring his vindictive diatribe. Hidden behind my hair, I drifted away inside my head, humming the tune that had got me through his rants ever since I was a child. His voice rose until he was almost shouting. “Young lady, you shouldn’t be here.”
Black leather boots appeared next to my father’s pretentious shiny loafers, and the smell of clean, woody aftershave wafted through the air. Lifting my head, I got my first glimpse of the man that smelled so delicious.
My father spoke, but we ignored him. The man reached out his hand and I took it. My skin tingled the moment it connected with his, and for one blissful moment I forgot who I was, and who my father was.
I was just a girl meeting a boy.
I snap back to reality. My fingers are clenched tightly around the steering wheel in front of me and I force my breathing to return to normal. Usually after dealing with my obnoxious father, I’m numb. I survive his behavior by zoning out and disconnecting from my emotions.
But today, despite my father I’m smiling.
Because I met a man—a beautiful man.
And I want to see him again.