Page 24 of Baby for the Bikers

“Most people don’t bother,” I say softly.

Her expression shifts to something genuine. “I’m not most people.”

No, she certainly isn’t. That much I already know.

She turns back to her dough, kneading it with practiced movements. “So, about yesterday, in my be?—”

“If you’re going to ask about what I’ve done with your underwear, you’re not going to get an answer,” I cut her off, keeping my expression neutral despite the heat the memory brings.

Rowan pouts, then scowls, throwing the dough she’s been working on down onto the cutting board with more force than necessary.

I don’t respond outwardly, but satisfaction curls through me. I like riling her up. I like seeing those flashes of fire beneath her careful control.

And I’m looking forward to seeing just how much more fire I can draw from her in the days to come.

10

MADDOX

It’s beena week since Black Dog Bites opened its doors, and I’m still stuck at the garage while Ryder gets to spend every damn day with our feisty little baker. Not that I’m jealous. I’m just…strategically concerned about the division of labor.

“Hand me that wrench,” Brick says, his voice muffled from under the Camaro he’s working on.

I kick it toward him with my boot. “Don’t you think it’s weird that Ryder’s always at the diner with Rowan?”

Brick slides out just enough to give me a flat look. “They’re cooking. The place is packed from opening to close. They don’t have time for whatever you’re imagining.”

“I don’t know.” I lean against the workbench, crossing my arms. “Our quiet brother’s been different since she showed up. More…”

“Present?” Brick offers, disappearing under the car again.

“Exactly.” I hadn’t been able to put my finger on it, but that’s it. Ryder’s always been in his own world, but lately, he’s beenmore engaged. More aware. More focused on something besides engines and kitchen equipment.

And I know exactly who that something is.

“I’m taking tomorrow off,” I announce. “Going to help out at the diner.”

Brick grunts from beneath the car. “We’ve got three appointments and that Mustang needs to be ready by noon.”

“You can handle it. Or reschedule.” I grab a rag to wipe grease from my hands. “Our baker needs more supervision than just Ryder.”

Another grunt. Brick doesn’t argue further, which means he either agrees or doesn’t care enough to fight me on it. Either way, I’m counting it as a win.

“Lucy wants to know how we’re handling Rowan’s wages,” Brick says, changing the subject. “Since she’s working off the bike damage.”

I think about the discussion we had two nights ago. After watching Rowan bust her ass for a week—showing up early, staying late, cooking like she was born in that kitchen— we all silently acknowledged what none of us wanted to say aloud.

“Tell Lucy to keep the debt in a separate account,” I reply. “But don’t actually take it from Rowan’s pay.”

Brick slides out, his eyebrow raised. “So we’re letting her think she’s paying us back?”

I shrug. “She did trash three custom bikes.”

“She’s also doubled our projected first-week revenue,” Brick counters.

“Which is why we’re not actually making her pay.” I grin at my brother. “But she doesn’t need to know that.”

Brick shakes his head, but I catch the slight upturn of his lips. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

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