Her Possessive Bikers

43. Indy （A Year Later）

43

INDY (A YEAR LATER)

J acoby is fixing the fence when I walk up, the sound of hammering mingling with the low hum of engines in the distance. The sun beats down, casting a golden glow over the compound.

“Need a hand?” I ask, leaning against the fence post.

He glances up, a grin spreading across his face. “Only if you promise not to break any nails.”

I roll my eyes and take the hammer from him. “I’m tougher than I look, you know that.”

Kyler appears, wiping sweat from his brow. “What’s this? The queen herself getting her hands dirty?”

I give him a playful shove. “Just trying to keep you boys in line.”

Tres walks over, his jeans hanging low on his hips. He’s shirtless, and I can’t help but admire the way his muscles move under his skin. “You’re all here slacking off while I’m doing paperwork.”

“You call that paperwork?” Jacoby teases. “Looked more like a nap to me.”

“Shut it,” Tres says with a smirk. He turns to me, his eyes softening. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Just thinking about how far we’ve come.”

Kyler puts an arm around my shoulders. “It’s been one hell of a year.”

“Tell me about it,” I say, glancing at the small house beside the compound. The contractor who rebuilt Dad’s house did a fantastic job on this place too, despite being scared shitless of Tres.

“Remember when he thought you were going to deck him for asking about the paint color?” Jacoby laughs.

Tres chuckles. “He looked like he was about to piss himself.”

“Can’t blame him,” Kyler adds. “You do have that effect on people.”

Tres shrugs nonchalantly but there’s a hint of pride in his eyes.

I hop onto the weathered picnic table, crossing my legs and leaning back on my hands. The late afternoon sun warms my skin as I watch my boys work.

"Y'all don't mind if I supervise, right?" I call out, grinning as Jacoby flexes dramatically.

"Show off," Kyler mutters, but there's affection in his voice. He catches my eye and touches the silver band on his finger - the one that matches mine legally.

The men decided it was best to decide who would be legally married to me “the clubhouse way.” I said hell no to the suggestion of russian roulette, and they finally decided on a good ole game of chicken. Needless to say, Kyler was the victor. But I’m pretty convinced he would have willingly wrecked his own bike just to win.

I smile, thinking about our backyard ceremony three months ago. The clubhouse had never looked more beautiful, decorated with fairy lights and wildflowers. All three of them standing there in their cleaned-up kuttes, looking at me like I hung the moon.

"Before I forget," I say, watching them work, "the supply room needs restocking. Being the clubhouse medic keeps me busier than the rescue squad ever did."

"That's because these knuckleheads can't go a week without getting into trouble," Tres says.

"You love it though," Jacoby points out. "Admit it - patching us up is more exciting than dealing with regular civilians."

"Maybe," I concede, thinking about how right he is. Trading in my paramedic badge for a permanent place here, with them, was the best decision I've ever made. "But you guys could try being a little more careful."

"Where's the fun in that?" Kyler asks, coming over to press a quick kiss to my temple.

I stretch and climb down from the picnic table. "I'm heading home to start dinner. You boys better not be late."

Jacoby winks. "Wouldn't dream of it, darlin'."

"Do you need some help with dinner?" Kyler asks, but I wave him off.

"Nah, I got it covered. Just finish up here and come home hungry."

Tres pulls me in for a quick kiss. "Love you, beautiful."

With dinner finished, I curl up on our oversized leather couch, pretending to read but really watching the clock. My stomach flutters with nervous excitement. The pregnancy test hidden in my back pocket feels like it's burning a hole through my jeans.

The rumble of motorcycles makes me smile. Right on time.

They file in one by one - Tres first, then Jacoby, then Kyler. Each one gives me a kiss before starting to shrug off their kuttes.

"Hold up," I say, setting my book aside. "Can y'all sit down for a minute? I need to ask you something about motorcycles."

Tres raises an eyebrow but takes his usual spot in the armchair. Jacoby sprawls on the couch next to me while Kyler perches on the arm.

"What would you need to know about motorcycles that you don't already know, baby?" Jacoby asks.

I try to keep my face neutral. "So I was wondering... is there any way to safely attach a car seat to a motorcycle?"

Kyler chokes on air. Jacoby's mouth drops open. Tres goes completely still.

"A what now?" Jacoby manages.

"A car seat. You know, for babies?" I fight to keep the smile off my face. "I mean, I figure between the three of you, someone must know if it's possible."

Tres leans forward, his dark eyes intense. "Indy..."

"Because," I continue innocently, "we might need to figure something out in about seven months."

I pull the pregnancy test from my back pocket, my hands trembling slightly as I hold it up. Three sets of eyes lock onto the little pink plus sign.

"Holy shit," Jacoby breathes, leaning forward for a closer look. His face splits into a massive grin. "Holy fucking shit!"

Tres hasn't moved from his chair, but his eyes have softened in a way I've only seen a handful of times. "Come here, baby girl."

I walk over and he pulls me onto his lap, one hand sliding to rest protectively over my still-flat stomach. "You're going to be gorgeous carrying our child," he murmurs against my hair.

"A baby!" Jacoby jumps up, pacing excitedly. "I can teach them everything about bikes - start them young, you know? Get one of those little plastic motorcycles, then work our way up to a mini dirt bike..."

"They're not even born yet and you're already planning to put them on two wheels?" I laugh.

"Hell yeah! Gotta start early if they're gonna be the next generation of mechanics."

A sniffle draws my attention to Kyler, who's trying to discreetly wipe his eyes.

"Ky?" I reach out for him.

"I just..." he clears his throat. "Brick would've been so happy. A grandkid to spoil." His voice cracks on the last word.

I feel tears well up in my own eyes as I pull him close. "Yeah, he would've."

"Hey now," Jacoby says softly, wrapping his arms around both of us. "No sad tears allowed. This is happy news."

"The happiest," Tres agrees, joining our group hug. His hand finds mine, squeezing gently. "We're going to give this kid everything."