Page 22 of Biker Daddy's Girl

Jason can sense it, his body tense and his jaw clenched.

"Jason." I keep my face a mask. I have no idea what happened last night to make him look like he ran over his own bike, and I don't want to ask. But I have to do it. It's my duty as club president to make sure the rookie isn't an idiot or a coward, and I can already tell that's exactly what he is. "What happened?" I nod to the bike.

Jason doesn't answer right away, so Gunnar does instead. "He, ah, laid it down pulling into the parking lot about 30 minutes ago. Trying to show off, maybe." Gunnar's not angry about it. I think he's already decided the kid isn't cut out for this, but he doesn't want to be the one to deliver the news to the club.

Jason flushes. "I was trying to avoid something."

"You should be able to avoid whatever you were avoiding without laying it down," I point out. I can't let this one slide, no matter how badly everyone else wants to let him. "It's an easy bike. No big engine. No sharp turns or anything. Just a straight shot, you know?"

Jason's mouth twists and I can tell he wants to make a snappy retort. I cock an eyebrow at him and his mouth snaps closed. He knows that I can have his chance for membership revoked on the spot, no questions asked. If he doesn't have respect for us or this MC, there is no place here for him.

"If this is how you act on a bike you're used to, how do you think you'd react when you finally get one with some power?" I exhale through my teeth, rolling my eyes to the sky to try and find some patience. "Look. Jason, was it? We both know you aren't exactly nailing this audition. I'm going to give you one more chance tonight to go out with Gunnar and his team, but if you blow it, then we're just going to call it done. No harm, no foul, get it? We just can't have anything but the most steady guys with the Guardians. Maybe get a few years of riding under your belt and try again."

I pause, giving Jason time to answer, but he's staring at the ground looking dejected and sullen. His reaction tells me everything I need to know. He wants the glory and the prestige, but he's not willing to put the time and work into becoming someone truly valuable to the MC.

I turn to the others, jerking my head back to the clubhouse. "I'm going to go get a beer. Why don't the rest of you take this opportunity to show him how an escort job should work?" I don't give the guy another look as I turn on my heel, making my way to the door of the clubhouse. The sun is still beating down overhead, warming the back of my neck as I pull the heavy steel door open.

The door leads into a dark, cool entryway where my eyes can adjust. The clubhouse is filled with light and laughter when I walk through the doorway, a sense of peace and belonging settling in my chest. I trust Gunnar to give me a fair judgment tomorrow about Jason, and now I just have a few hours to burn until Emma is ready for me to retrieve her.

With a slow smile, I make my way to the Forge, already thinking about how I can make tonight special for my girl. I've got a lot of ideas for how the first part of the evening will go, but there's only one possible conclusion.

I'm going to fuck Emma Lawson tonight, and I'm going to make it impossible for her to ever forget.

I pick Emma up at 4 PM, and the tension from this morning has melted off her beautiful face.

"It's over," she breathes, climbing into my car like she's done it a million times. "And I think I passed with flying colors! I won't know until Monday, but I'm really confident."

I laugh, taking in the bright smile that makes me feel like everything else is background noise. I reach for her, and she doesn't hesitate to lean forward and accept a quick kiss.

"Congratulations. I know you put a lot of work into that exam, you should be really proud of yourself."

Her eyes twinkle when I pull back, a light pink dusting her cheeks. I can feel how much my praise means to her. The girl just lights up. It makes me want to give her compliments every day until she understands just how fucking amazing she is.

Emma hums as she leans back into the car seat, her eyes looking off into the distance, like she's already imagining something else that could be a future possibility.

I can't wait to show her that I'm going to be her future. Her present too. I want everything that she's willing to give me, and then some.

The drive back to my house goes quickly with Emma chatting happily next to me, but when we arrive, I have to separate from her for a moment.

"I have a few things to take care of in the garage, but afterward I'm taking you to dinner and then we're going to go for a ride. So get ready." I reach over and run my thumb over her bottom lip. "You might want to change your shoes into something a little more comfortable."

Her face is alight with a smile that makes me feel like everything in my world is right as she gets out of the car, bounding into the house. The thought of her running around the house, in the place that will be hers someday too, makes me smile to myself.

The garage isn't anything special, but I've built up a collection of things that make it mine. I check my messages, pencil in a few appointments, order a few needed parts, and before I know it, it's approaching 6 PM. Time to get myself ready.

One of the women we helped out last year was the executive chef at a small farm-to-table restaurant on the edges of Stonebridge. It's gotten popular enough that it's almost impossible to get a reservation, but when I called her earlier, she was more than happy to make space for Emma and me.

I have just enough time for a quick shower, making sure to dress in my nicest pair of black jeans and a freshly laundered dark gray T-shirt. I shrug my vest over my shoulders, feeling the leather settle like a second skin. This vest is one of the first things I earned as part of the MC. There are several different patches sewn on, including the name and logo of our club, a list of charities we've sponsored over the years, and one of the most important—a memorial to those members we've lost.

I knock on the guest room door, and Emma answers, a book in her hand and a warm look on her face. She's dressed in a sunny yellow sundress, and white Converse sneakers on her feet. I'm glad she took my advice for proper motorcycle wear.

She's so fucking gorgeous that I want to snatch the book from her hand and back her into the bedroom, forgoing dinner reservations and any other plans just to have her to myself in bed. But Emma needs to be romanced, and while romance has always seemed like a foreign concept, she brings the possibility out in me.

"I hope you're ready because the longer we're in this house, the closer I am to locking you in and never leaving," I joke, but neither of us misses the note of seriousness in my tone.

"I'm ready," she chirps, putting the book down and closing the guest room door behind her. "I'm starving."

Walking her out to my bike, I grab her the spare helmet and slide my own over my head. I feel a rush of pride looking at my motorcycle—a customized Harley Night Train—a far cry from the used bucket of bolts I bought out of the newspaper classifieds decades ago. Emma rode with me last night, but it was so late, and we were both drunk on adrenaline. Now I know she can really enjoy the experience.

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