Page 5 of A Biker's Tiny Present

“See you in the morning, Sunshine,” Raven calls out as she steps in the room.

I’m frozen where I stand. Even though I know Nicholas is here, and I’m beyond happy that I’ve found him, the rest still hasn’t caught up to me. Where is Taylor? Why did she bring the baby here?What is this place?

“This is my office,” Raven replies, motioning me into the room.

I didn’t mean to say that out loud, but her reply gets my feet moving. Not two steps inside, I freeze. Raven was telling the truth, but it only solves one of my problems. I see Nicholas and he seems to be okay. He is sound asleep, his adorable, chubby face smiling like he’s having a great dream. Who knows how long he’s been here, or when he took his naps today, so I’m not surprised to see him out like a light.

“Oh, thank God.” I finally take the first deep breath in an hour.

“Who are you?”

I obviously didn’t miss the man holding my nephew, because who could miss someone this tall and good looking drink of water, but his growly voice and grunt steal my attention from the bundle in his arms.

Holy moly is he hot. Like melt the butter for my biscuits, don’t forget to wear your sunscreen, get in your car in the middle of August and burn the back of your thighs on the leather seat, H-O-T, hot!

I get my first look at his shockingly handsome face, a face that stuns me silent and turns me stupid, “I . . .” and I can’t finish my thought.

“Tiny, this is Riley. She’s Nicholas’s aunt,” Raven jumps in and answers for me. “Riley, meet Tiny, Nicholas’s dad. Or so your sister’s note says.”

I can hear her talking, and absorb every word she’s saying, but I let my eyes wander and really take him in. Under his judgy judging eyes, I judge him for myself.

Insanely tall. At least a few inches over six feet—check.

Bald head covered in colorful tattoos that crawl down his neck, even on the front of his throat, as well as one beside his left eyebrow—check.

Hoop ring piercing in his right nostril and small black gages in both ears—check.

Bushy, but somehow soft looking, jet-black mustache and beard surrounding pouty lips I want to drown in—check . . . wait, no, I can’t think that.

Oh, how I’d love to, but if he’s really my nephew’s father, he has to be off limits. As sexy as his dark broodiness is, and as irresistible as I find the ink that flows from the edges of his t-shirt sleeves all the way down to his fingertips, this man is not available. Taylor may not have wanted him for the long-term, but he’s in Nicholas’s life now, so I need to nip any inappropriate thoughts in the butt right here and now.

Had I met this man any other time, this meeting would be very different if I had my way. Unfortunately for me, it looks like he will be in my life but not in a way that my libido and mind can agree on.

Goddammit, Taylor. What did you get us in to?

CHAPTER FOUR

TINY

“Where has she been all this time?”

Fuck, what the hell am I supposed to do with a baby? I’m forty-fuckin’-five years old and have never been responsible for a baby before. I’ve never had to. Being purposely single, and admittedly grumpy by nature, has kept babies away from me. Any time a mother needed someone to hold their little one, not that I’ve been around many, they looked for help from someone who isn’t an asshole like me. Up until today, I had been thankful for that, but now I’m not so sure I was doing myself the favor I thought I was. Then again, I never expected for a baby to be abandoned inthe bar and restaurant owned by the motorcycle club I belong to, with a note saying he was mine.

Still pacing the small office, sleeping baby in one arm, phone on speakerphone in the other, I’m wondering what the hell has happened to my life. Nicholas is out like a light. Our talking, and the thumping of my boots on the hardwood floor, doesn’t faze him one bit.

“I only know what the note says.” I’m talking to Whiskey, my club President, relaying to him the same information he’s been told twice already.

“Do you want to call the cops about this?”

I was hoping he wouldn’t say that.

It’s not the usual go-to situation for a biker to willingly call the police as the first plan of action, but this is not an everyday bad-guy type of situation we’re looking at. We don’t deal with missing babies on a regular basis. How we handle this can’t be like how we’ve dealt with our enemies in the past. We can’t just ride in, shoot anyone in our way, burn the bodies, and be home by dinner . . . this is a baby we’re talking about. Yes, I have the name and phone number of Taylor’s sister, not that I’ve called her yet, but involving the cops in this is the last thing I want to do.

“Can you have Cypher do some internet searching first? There’s gotta be a way he can look into some hospital records or somethin’.”

“Tell Cypher I’m gonna text him a picture of the letter.” Ring taps on the screen of his phone a few times, then tucks it away in his cut pocket.

“Even with only knowing the baby and mom’s first names, he should be able to find somethin’,” Whiskey replies. “You have a car seat, right?”

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