Sunny came forward, holding out a card while saying, “Free coffee for your birthday month.”

“Oh Sunny, I couldn’t,” I told her, taking the card.

“All November, Petal,” Shambles walked up and slid an arm around Sunny’s chest from behind, his grin pinned to me, “on the house.”

“Thanks,” I whispered.

Krystal came forward with a package wrapped in birthday wrap but no ribbon or bow.

She handed it to me and stated, “It’s a Harley tee and it’s sweet. They only had that one left in our size. You don’t like it, give it back, I want it.”

I didn’t think Krystal was the same size as me and I figured she bought her own size so I’d have to give the t-shirt back. I laughed softly and shook my head while she avoided my eyes, turned and also avoided Bubba on her way back into the kitchen.

Tate let me go and drifted away as others came forward with cards and gifts. A huge bouquet of flowers from Holly. A smokin’ hot biker babe belt that Stoney had noticed me checking out at his store. A gift certificate for a mani and pedi from Dominic. A white ribbed tank with a black, silver, gray and orange design of skulls, hearts and flowers around the words “Carnal, Colorado, Harley Heaven” from Amber and Jonelle. Two gift certificates for the home store, one from Ned and Betty, one from Pop, Stella and Wood. A bottle of very good vodka from Steg, Wings and Nadine. A neck choker I would never have considered buying for myself (but it was hot and I couldn’t wait to wear it) made out of a thin strip of black leather with silver rivets on it from Bubba.

And a can of mace with a mumbled, “Can’t be too careful,” from Twyla.

Once I’d opened all my gifts; read my cards and set them on their sides on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room; everyone had a beer; and Stella, Krys, Wendy and Amber had put out bowls of chips, macaroni and potato salad and fluffy dinner rolls, Tate returned to me.

And he did it carrying a martini, with olive, in a fantastic, long-stemmed, elegant martini glass.

When I took the martini all the while my eyes never leaving his, he murmured, “Wanda says happy birthday.”

Tate had braved Wanda and Deluxe Home Store for me.

I felt tears sting my eyes.

“Tate,” I breathed.

His hand slid along my waist as he muttered, “Shit, babe, are you gonna cry again?”

“No,” I lied as a tear ran down my cheek.

Tate watched it fall then his free hand lifted and he used his thumb to swipe it away. He left his hand cupping my cheek when he was done and I’d gotten control of myself.

Then I whispered, “Thank you, baby.”

His face got soft, tender and his head dropped so he could run his nose along mine.

He moved an inch away, his eyes locked on mine and he whispered back, “You’re welcome, Ace.”

My parents were good at giving birthdays. My Mom was a birthday freak and she made every one more special than the last.

But I stood in my new-ish kitchen, looking into Tatum Jackson’s brown, tawny-flecked eyes and I loved my Mom and all the hard work she’d put into giving me great birthdays… but Tate had given me the best.

And it wasn’t over yet.

* * * * *

I returned to the house after waving good-bye to Bubba, Wendy, Tyler and Amber, the last of the lot to go.

Jonas had left earlier with Pop, he was spending the night with him, I suspected because Tate had another birthday treat for me, one I was seriously looking forward to because I’d had more than one martini and I was seriously drunk.

I slid the sliding glass door shut and cooed nonsensically at Buster who was weaving around my ankles as I weaved my way toward Tate who was standing at the debris-filled, brand new, shit hot kitchen counter, something in his hand, his neck bent to look at it.

I sidled up to him and then plastered myself against his side.

His neck twisted to look down at me and I whispered what I hoped was a suggestive, “everyone’s gone now, we can have wild, crazy, biker on biker babe sex”, “Hey.”

“Who’s Matt Derriford?”

I blinked drunkenly.

“What?”

He lifted my phone pointed at me and I saw my call history, Mom and Dad and Carrie were on it but at the top was Matt’s name.

“Um…” I muttered, trying to think fast, however I was inebriated so thinking fast was an impossibility.

“College boyfriend?” Tate surmised.

“Um…” I muttered again, trying to read his face, however I was inebriated so reading his face was an impossibility considering it was carefully blank.

Tate looked back down at my phone. “When’d you talk to him?”

“Um…” I repeated, “At the bar, after my shift.”

Tate looked back at me. “Tryin’ to hide it, Ace?”

I bit my lip as my mind screamed, Yes! considering he didn’t seem too happy. Hiding it was a moral imperative and I decided next year to do a heck of a lot better with that.

I didn’t answer and Tate put my phone on the counter and turned into my arms. His hands came up and settled where my neck met my shoulders.

“You drunk?” he asked.

“Yes,” I thought it safe to answer.

“How drunk?” he asked.

“Very drunk?” I answered with a question even though it should have been said firmly as I was, indeed, very drunk.

“Too drunk to hold on, I take you for a ride?”

My belly fluttered at the thought of being on the back of his bike but my eyes slid to the new microwave over the new stove then back to him.

“Tate, it’s nearly one in the morning.”

“Too drunk to hold on, Ace,” Tate repeated.

“I’m never too drunk to hold on,” I replied.

“Get your jacket,” he ordered.

I stared at him and I couldn’t decide if he was pissed or if he was something else. Since he loved me and he loved me lots and he’d proved that over and over again, most recently with a bunch of expensive, brand-spanking new stuff in the kitchen, I figured I was safe even if he was pissed about my call to Matt.

I got my jacket and he led me out to the garage, threw a leg over his bike, backed it out and then I got on behind him.

Then we rode. It was cold, the wind whipped my face and hair and bit through my jeans.

And I didn’t care.