Page 9 of The Biker's Single Mom
"Fine," I concede. "Today. But tomorrow we figure out a real plan."
Daniel nods, relief briefly softening his features before the mask of control slips back into place. "I need to go check in with Blade. Will you be okay here for a few hours?"
"We'll be fine," I say, forcing confidence into my voice. "Violet and I are used to entertaining ourselves."
He hesitates, eyes searching my face like he can see through my bravado. "Lock the door behind me. Don't open it for anyone but me or Hawk."
"Yes, sir," I mutter, rolling my eyes.
That gets me the ghost of a smile, there and gone in an instant. "Smartass."
After he leaves, the clubhouse feels emptier. I busy myself helping Violet build a fort out of couch cushions, then reading her stories until she grows restless.
We discover a shelf of board games in a closet, and I'm setting up Candy Land when I hear the back door open. My heart leaps to my throat until Daniel's deep voice calls out, "It's just me."
Relief floods me, followed immediately by irritation at how glad I am to hear his voice.
Violet abandons the game to race toward the sound. "Mr. Fix-It! We found games!"
I follow more slowly, rounding the corner to find Daniel crouched down, examining Mr. Wheels, which Violet has thrust into his hands.
"His wheel is wobbly again," she explains seriously.
"I see that," Daniel says, turning the toy over in his large hands. "Got some tools in my room. Want to help me fix him properly this time?"
Violet nods eagerly, and I watch as Daniel leads her down the hallway, shortening his stride to match her skipping steps. They disappear into what must be his room, the door left partially open. From where I stand, I can see them sitting on the edge of a neatly made bed, heads bent together over a small toolkit.
I should join them, should maintain the boundary between this dangerous man and my impressionable daughter. Instead, I find myself frozen, watching through the crack in the door.
Daniel's hands, so large they make the screwdriver look like a toothpick, move with surprising delicacy as he shows Violet howto tighten the tiny screw that holds the wheel in place. His voice, pitched low and patient, explains each step.
"Gotta be gentle," he tells her. "Too tight and it won't spin free. Too loose and it falls off."
"Like Goldilocks," Violet says. "Just right."
That rusty laugh again. "Yeah, exactly like that."
The realization hits me with unexpected force: I want Daniel. Not just his protection, not just his strength, but him—his gentleness beneath the gruffness, his patience, his solid presence that makes me feel safe for the first time in years.
The intensity of the wanting terrifies me.
Later, after Violet has fallen asleep on the couch watching a movie, I find Daniel on the back deck again. Night has fallen, wrapping the yard in velvet darkness broken only by the glow of security lights at the perimeter.
He turns when the door opens, his profile sharp against the night sky. "She asleep?"
I nod, stepping out to join him at the railing. "Out cold. All that board game excitement wore her out."
He makes a sound that might be amusement, taking a pull from the beer in his hand.
"Thank you," I say into the quiet between us. "For yesterday. For standing up to Carlo's men."
Daniel shrugs, the movement rippling through his broad shoulders. "Wasn't just me. Any of the Riders would have done the same."
"Maybe. But you were the one who did it." I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm night. "I haven't... trusted a man since Carlo. Not with myself, and certainly not with Violet."
He's silent for a long moment, and when I glance up, he's watching me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
"I'm not a good man, Daisy," he says finally, his voice rough. "I've done things—"
