Page 37 of Baby for the Bikers

“Who you were,” I correct gently.

“Right.” She studies me through the screen. “You’ve changed too. Your face has filled out again. You look happier.”

“I’m getting there,” I admit. “Found a job. Actually using my baking skills.”

“Legit baking?” She wiggles her eyebrows. “No special ingredients?”

The joke makes us both laugh, but there’s an edge to it. We both know what Dad had me putting in those specialty orders.

“One hundred percent legal flour and sugar,” I promise. “The owners don’t even know my real name, let alone anything else.”

Yes, they don’t know that only my sister addresses me as Rowan. They don’t know it’s the name I came up with when I was seventeen in preparation for when I ran away.

“Good.” She glances over her shoulder, suddenly serious. “Listen, I can’t stay on long, but I needed to warn you. Dad’s getting desperate. Someone told me he’s hired outside help to find us.”

The words land like stones in my stomach. “What kind of outside help?”

“The kind that doesn’t care about jurisdictions or warrants.” She lowers her voice further. “Be careful, Ro. I don’t think he’s given up.”

“He never will.” The truth tastes bitter on my tongue. “Not until he makes an example of us.”

“I should go. Love you.”

“Love you too, Emily Callahan. Stay safe.”

Her image freezes for a moment before disappearing, leaving me staring at my own reflection in the darkened screen. She looks so different now. So free. While I’m still jumping at shadows, afraid to get too comfortable.

The clock on my microwave reminds me to get ready for work. The diner opens at noon.

I change into my new jeans and one of the lightweight tops I bought—nothing fancy, but clean and flattering. As I lock my apartment, I wonder about last night’s text from Brick.Good riding tonight.Those three words have been living in my head rent-free since I read them.

When I arrive, the diner’s lights are still off. I use my key to let myself in, flipping switches as I go. The routine of opening calms my nerves—checking supplies, prepping stations, and turning on equipment. By the time I’ve mixed the first batch of dough, I’m almost relaxed again.

The bell above the door chimes just after noon. I look up, expecting the first customers, but it’s the brothers. Their expressions are serious, a heaviness to their movements that wasn’t there yesterday.

“Morning, princess.” Maddox’s greeting lacks its usual teasing edge. “Place looks good.”

“Thanks,” I say, suddenly uncertain. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Brick answers too quickly. “Just a busy morning.”

They move through the diner with unusual tension, checking things that don’t need checking, having quiet conversations I can’t quite hear. Something’s wrong, but it’s clearly not something they’re sharing with the hired help.

Maddox and Brick leave thirty minutes later, heading back to the garage. Ryder stays behind, settling into his usual spot in the kitchen without a word.

“What happened?” I ask him directly when we’re alone. “You guys seem off.”

He simply shrugs, turning his attention to the grill. Typical Ryder response, but somehow, it feels more deliberate than usual.

The Saturday lunch rush keeps us too busy for further questions. By evening, the strange mood has settled into the background, just another mystery about the Kane brothers that isn’t my business to solve.

As I clean up after closing, disaster strikes. The tap I’m using to fill a mop bucket suddenly jerks in my hand, the metal coupling splitting and a spray of water hitting me directly in the chest.

“Shit!” I leap back, but it’s too late. My lightweight top is completely soaked, clinging to my skin like a second skin. The thin material does nothing to hide my black bra underneath, and the sudden chill makes certain things very obvious.

I twist the knob to shut off the water, but nothing happens. The coupling must have broken internally. Water continues spraying everywhere, soaking the floor and anything within range.

Ryder’s taking out trash in the back alley, so there’s no help there. I race to the main water valve under the sink, shutting it off with a decisive twist. The spray dies immediately, leaving me standing in a puddle, dripping and furious.

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