The Other Woman Sat at Her Table by Goldie J. Jackson

For six years the other woman sat at the head of her table. Every Sunday. With a legal pad, planning her wedding.
Josie Larkin reads bodies for a living. She is the vet tech who holds the dog while the leg is set, the one who can tell what a heeler will do a half second before it knows. She never once read the man she slept beside for four years, because you do not read the animal you trust. Then the club's enforcer carries a three-legged dog into her clinic and, in the parking lot, tells her: it was Delia. The president's wife. Her closest friend. And the president has known since Christmas.
Cole "Wrench" Barrow was a boy on a pier when Boone Marsh gave him a family. He has paid for it ever since, and last August he paid with the truth: end it, take the club's debt onto your own name, and Josie never finds out. Cole said yes to Boone, then yes to Josie, in the same two weeks, and told himself it was one yes.
A cheating and betrayal MC biker second chance romance about:The other woman who was her best friend, and the club secret that was older than the affairA grovel with no speeches: a fixed latch, a tailgate at six in the morning, the ledger read into the public recordThe woman who finally asks the second question, and the man who learns to answer itA silver anchor thrown off the pier, and forty feet of water at slack tideNine men who quit rather than keep her out of the roomAn earned happily ever after at a table with no head chair, plus an epilogue a year onFirst person, dual point of view. Standalone. The door closes; the questions do not. Coastal Oregon, a salvage club, and a heeler who has already decided.