Page 52 of The Biker Needs A Nanny

“I don’t know about that, but I felt blessed. They say when one door closes, another opens. I’ve bounced around enough to know that’s true.”

“You aren’t from here?” Molly asks.

“Lord, no.”

“Where’s home?” Angie asks.

“I was born in Ohio.”

“What is your family doing for the holidays? Will you go home?” she presses.

“Oh, I don’t have any family. My mother died when I was young.”

“How sad.” Angie covers my hand. “No brothers or sisters?”

“I, um, it’s a long story.”

Molly frowns. “Having brothers and sisters is a long story?”

The prospect returns with my drink.

“Thank you.” I smile at him, grateful for the save.

“No problem.” He disappears to the bar, and I glance around. “There are so many people. I didn’t know the club was this big.”

“Oh, it’s not,” Angie says. “The Birmingham chapter came down for the toy run. Our boys went up for theirs last year, so they’re returning the favor.”

Molly points to a man. “That’s Shades, their president. And that’s his daughter, Rebel.”

“So, you all know each other?” I ask.

“Yep. They visit often,” Molly explains. “We’re a tight-knit family.”

I spot Lucky over at the bar. He laughs at something one of the other men said, and I realize how relaxed he looks—so different from the uptight man he is at home.

Angie sees where I’m looking. “Everything okay between you and Lucky? We all know he’s been through a dozen nannies.”

“Really?”

“Yep. You’ve lasted longer than any of them.”

“That must be so hard on Ella and Poppy.”

Just then, the girls run up to me.

“Grace, isn’t the tree huge?” Ella says.

Poppy whispers in my ear, “When are we doing the presents?”

“I don’t know, honey.”

“Really soon, baby,” Angie tells her. “Are you hungry? We’ve got pizza on that table.” She leans close. “And there are some Christmas cookies, too.”

Her face lights up, and the two girls run off, and I start to stand. “I should help them.”

“Sit, Grace. Taylor!” Angie motions over a girl of about twelve. “Could you please help Ella and Poppy get some pizza, honey?”

“Sure, Momma.” She runs off.

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