Page 12 of The Biker Needs A Nanny

Poppy’s eyes shift to me, like she wants me to confirm this for her.

“Um,” I glance at Lucky. “Well, your father doesn’t want anyone pushing you around, and maybe your teacher won’t always be there. You shouldn’t be afraid to defend yourself, but you should probably try to find an adult first if you can.”

Lucky rolls his eyes.

I quickly change the subject. “So, when does Christmas vacation start?”

“In three weeks,” Ella says forlornly. “It’s taking forever to get here.”

“Did you write your letters to Santa yet?” I ask.

They both shake their heads.

I’ve noticed there are no Christmas decorations, not even a tree. Christmas is four weeks from today, and most people have decorations up by now. Maybe Lucky waits until the last minute.

After we finish eating, I clean the table and load the dishes into the dishwasher while Lucky gives the girls a bath.

They’re in their pajamas and getting into bed when I come upstairs.

Poppy holds up a book. “Could you read us this, Grace?”

Lucky steps back, and I take a seat next to her on the bed. Ella crawls into Poppy’s bed and cuddles to my other side.

I read them both a story about a lost duckling and the puppy who leads him home.

When I’m finished, Lucky tucks them in, and we leave the room.

“Grace?”

I stop in front of my door and turn. “Yes?”

“Reading them a bedtime story? That’s kind of my thing.”

“Sorry. They asked. I didn’t know.”

“Now you do.”

With that, he heads down the stairs without even a goodnight.

I open my door and close it quietly, then unpack my meager belongings into the dresser. When I’m done, I sit on the bed and play with my phone.

I look up the town of Stillwater and see all the Christmas activities the town does every year. There’s a Christmas festival with craft booths and a carnival, a parade, a toy drive, and a charity tree lot.

Biting my lip, I wonder if I’ll be able to have the Christmas I always dreamed about growing up. In this beautiful home, I’d love to give the girls that kind of Christmas.

I research some crafty outdoor decorations that the girls and I could make for the outside of the house, and come up with a list of ideas.

I’m at it for several hours, getting lost in the internet and social media until I hear a child crying and get up to check.

When I crack my door open, it’s just in time to see Lucky going into the girls’ room. He doesn’t see me, and I listen to their exchange.

“What’s wrong, Ella?” he whispers.

I hear the bed creak as he sits.

“I had a bad dream. I miss Mommy.”

“I do, too, angel.”

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