Page 13 of The Biker Needs A Nanny

He starts humming a tune.

I step closer and peer through the crack, eavesdropping on how sweet he is with her, rocking her and singing to her.

My heart warms, and I step back, not wanting to ruin the moment. Returning to my room, I close the door quietly and crawl into bed.

Maybe there is a heart under all that ice.

CHAPTER FIVE

Grace—

A week goes by, and we fall into a routine.

I wake to the sound of Lucky moving around in the kitchen and the smell of coffee permeating the air.

I know that means he is in there, strutting around with no shirt on and his sweatpants low on his hips. I’ve tried not to gawk, but his abs are so defined, and his pants hang low enough that it reveals the v shape pointing toward the prize beneath. He really is one fine looking man.

I wet my lips at the thought. Swinging my legs out of bed, I head to the closet to get dressed and go ogle the man candy that is my boss. But a glimpse of myself in the mirror has me stopping short.

I’ve got a pale pink cotton camisole on that reveals the outline of my breast and the fact that I’m not wearing a bra. The matching shorts are short enough to show glimpses of my ass cheeks anytime I lift my arms. Maybe Mr. Boss Man needs a taste of his own medicine.

At this hour, I’ve got a good thirty minutes before I have to wake the girls to get ready for school, so why not drive the man to distraction? Maybe it’ll knock him out of the sour grapes mood he’s always in.

The sound of my feet padding across the kitchen floor has him turning. I pretend to pay him no mind, but out of the corner of my eye I see his gaze travel over my body and his jaw tighten.

When he turns to pouring his coffee, I spare him a glance. It’s hard not to admire his rippling back muscles or imagine what it would feel like to rub my hands over them.

Moving to the cabinet, I open it to grab two cereal bowls for the girls. I’m pretty average height, but he keeps them on the top shelf, making it difficult for me to reach. I stand on my tiptoes and try to pull them closer with the one finger that barely skims the edge of the stack of bowls. They start to tip, but before I can let out a curse, Lucky is there, pressing his bare chest against my back as he saves the bowls from smashing onto my head.

“You could ask for help,” he snaps.

“I almost had them.”

“I could see that.” His eyes shift to my ass, and I know exactly what he was watching.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t keep them so high, I could reach them,” I mutter.

He picks his coffee cup up and moves out of the kitchen, ignoring my grumblings. “I’m going to get a couple reps in.”

My eyes track him as he moves into the sunroom. It overlooks the bay. He leaves the door open, allowing the salty breeze to carry through the house. I could wake up to that smell, the sun warming my skin, and the gentle crashing of the waves for the rest of my life.

I walk to the pantry to grab the girls’ favorite cereals: Fruit Loops for Poppy and Reece’s Puffs for Ella. I also get a better view of Lucky lifting his body on a pull-up bar. It’s not long before a sheen of sweat glistens over his back. I give myself three minutes to admire the fine specimen of a man. He is the definition of temptation. Thank God he’s an asshole, or I don’t think I’d be able to control myself.

I pour the cereal into the bowls and return the boxes to their exact spot in the pantry. I’m about to head to get myself dressed when the pot of coffee sitting atop the counter catches my eye.

I let out a huff as I return it to its place in the coffeemaker. Every day he does this. I swear he’s doing it on purpose to drive me crazy. Just put the damn thing back where it goes. I glanceat the silverware drawer, knowing damn well he’s left the thing open like he always does. I shut it a little too vigorously, and it bangs. I hear him chuckle, and my eyes narrow. But when I look at the sunroom, he’s on the ground, doing pushups.

I head upstairs to slip on a pair of yoga pants and pull a long sleeve knitted shirt over my head. Even living near the gulf, it gets a little brisk during the winter months.

Next, I wake the girls and get them dressed in the outfits we laid out the night before. It’s become part of our routine. Ella dresses in a pink flowered dress, her favorite color, and Poppy wears a sparkly skirt and a shirt with a unicorn in front of a rainbow, because according to her, her favorite color is all of them.

When I return to the kitchen to grab their cereal and pour the milk, Lucky is nowhere to be seen, presumably in the shower.

I glance over and see he’s made himself a protein shake and left the counter a mess. Fruit containers out, the blender is down, and protein powder dusts the counter. I roll my eyes and carry the bowls to the table where the girls sit, still waking up.

“Dig in. I’m going to clean the kitchen. You girls have about fifteen minutes before it’s time to brush your teeth.”

“Okay, Grace.” Poppy yawns.

---