Page 2 of The Biker Needs A Nanny

“Nick, I need this job—”

He holds his hand up. “Then you should have thought about yourself instead of little old men.”

“He was hungry.”

Nick turns, ignoring any further complaints. “Tanya, take that plate and coffee out of her check and settle her up. She’s gone.” He passes Tanya, an older woman with bottle-blonde hair and the raspy voice of a decades-long smoker.

My shoulders slump, and I grab my purse.

Tanya hands me some meager bills. “Sorry, doll. Good luck.” She chomps on pink bubblegum, blowing a bubble.

“Thanks.” I push out the door and trudge toward the sidewalk. I’ve got to stay positive. When one door shuts, I need to bulldoze another one. The thought makes me grin.

An older lady approaches me before I make it to the sidewalk.

“Miss?”

“Yes?” I turn, taking in her gray braided hair bun and cat sweater. She looks like the quintessential sweet old lady.

“I saw what happened in there.” She gestures over her shoulder.

“Yeah, I think everyone did.” My cheeks flush pink.

“You did a good thing, and I hate you got fired for it, especially with Christmas coming.”

“I don’t think Nick cared about that.”

“Well, dear, I may know of a job. My neighbor is looking for a nanny for his little girls. I can give you the address, if you’re interested.”

“That would be great.” I reach into my purse and find a pencil and a gum wrapper and scribble the address.

“Thank you so much.”

“What you did for that old gentleman says a lot about a person when they’re willing to help a complete stranger. I thought I’d take a page out of your book.”

I profusely thank her and then run home to change.

The stairs under my feet creak, and I freeze, my eyes intent on my landlord’s door. But all I hear is the sound of a sports show on television. Breathing a sigh of relief, I dash to my apartment and slip inside. Leaning my back against the door, I take in the meager contents of the apartment. It’s mostly empty, with a mattress on the floor and a card table and a couple of folding chairs. The good thing about not having too much is my duffel bag fits all my worldly possessions. I shove my clothing and paltry personal items inside. A framed picture of my grandmother, my small bag of crafting supplies, and my little ceramic statue of Tinker Bell.

I try to be a glass-half-full kind of girl. It might be full of poison, but damn it, it’s half full.

How did I get into this situation?

I promised myself I would pull myself out of the life I had growing up. I would end up in a better place than where I came from. And I was making progress. I was in community college.I had an okay job and a good apartment, but my bad choices in men always seem to bite me in the ass. And he was the worst decision I’ve ever made.

It seems every step I take, I’m pushed two steps back, and the apartments get worse.

I have to shrug it off or depression will suck me under. I have to stay positive.

Well, when life gives you lemons, chuck them back and get yourself a Frappuccino. Try to not smile while drinking a Frappuccino. It’s impossible.

This new opportunity will be good. Maybe it will be great. It was time to move to a new spot, anyway. Staying in one place too long has never served me well. It’s safer to keep moving.

CHAPTER TWO

Grace—

Slinging my small duffel over my shoulder, I dash down the steps and out the door.

---