Page 24 of Biker Daddy

Chapter Six

Addi

Addi woke groggily, wondering where she was. Her mind flipped from home, to Daniel and Steven’s, to the B&B, dismissing each thought as it came until she remembered Uncle Ray. The realization had grief pouring over her, cold and heavy like wet cement, and then Drew came to mind. Wide-eyed, she groped the bed for him, and let out a sigh of relief when she felt nothing but cool sheets. She was alone.

Alone.She swallowed a blip of sadness and focused on her embarrassment over asking Drew to stay with her. She gulped, harder this time. She’d propositioned him. Oh, God. She pulled the covers over her head and groaned. She had never propositioned anyone in her life.

“Quit feeling sorry for yourself, Addianna Moore!”She kicked a leg beneath the covers, adding to her dramatics.

Gathering a breath, she yanked the blankets off and sat up. With the curtains closed tight, she was disoriented. Had she slept all night? She clicked on the bedside lamp, blinking at the old-fashioned clock beside it. It was seven p.m. She’d only been asleep a few hours.

Knowing she’d need a walk to clear her head and decide what she’d say to Drew before she’d be able to sleep again, she set her feet on the cool floor. She was still exhausted from all her blubbering at the funeral home. How did you apologize for bawling all over someone and then begging them to take you to bed?

She rose, looking down at herself in Drew’s t-shirt and her shame deepened. How could she? She’d wanted to be close to another person, sure, bury herself in something that would encompass her, but to push herself on him was inexcusable.

It wasn’t just the sex she wanted either, but Drew himself. His presence surrounded her like an ocean of warmth—sometimes tumultuous but always in control and when she gave in to him, calm and soothing.

Screwing him would be like drowning in him. Nothing could get her once he’d fully possessed her. She would be completely his, hidden and free from the world.

Addi pulled off his shirt, bringing it to her nose and breathing him in a moment before grabbing her own clothes, which Drew had folded neatly over the back of the chair.

The sun was lowering in the sky and the heady scent of a fire and grilled meat in the distance made her smile. She loved that smell.

She wasn’t sure where to look for Drew, or how to apologize, but she followed the scent of the fire until a vehicle coming up the lane made her head that way instead.

An old VW beetle with too much rust and a bad paint job stopped in front of the office. The blonde from the bar climbed out wearing short-shorts, a black crop top, and bright red heels that matched her lipstick. A little blond boy with big glasses and a cowlick jumped out after her. She reached into the car and pulled out a tray of cupcakes. Addi tugged at her dark hair, thrown haphazardly in a ponytail, and chewed the inside of her cheek.

“How are you?” the woman said in a sickly-sweet tone that made Addi feel diabetic.

“I’m okay. You?” She didn’t look at the blonde woman while speaking but examined the cute kid shoving his glasses up his nose with a marker-smudged finger.

“I’m Brent,” he said and held his tiny hand out. “We’re here to offer con-dol-enc-es.” The big word came out choppy, as if he’d been practicing.

“Well, that’s very sweet of you, Brent. I’m Addi.” Addi crouched down and took his hand. After they shook, Addi looked at him conspiratorially. “I hope you got to eat one of those yummy cupcakes before you brought them over here.” He looked at his mother, who was busily looking around, and then nodded with a wide grin. He patted his tummy and gave her a thumbs up, whispering they’d got them from the bakery in town.

The smile on Addi’s mouth froze when she heard Drew’s harsh voice.

“What the hell are you doing here, Layla?” Anger contorted Drew’s face as he strode like a storm toward them. He opened his mouth, no doubt to say something rude as he seemed apt to do whenever he encountered someone other than her, when Addi took Brent’s hand and stepped into his sightline.

“Look, Fitz, Brent and his mom came over with cupcakes.”

“Con-dol-ence cupcakes!” Brent said excitedly, skipping toward Drew and hugging his leg. The change on his face was remarkable and before he scooped the kid up, he was all but beaming.

“Hey, buddy! They look awesome. Did you bake them?”

“I did,” Layla said, strutting toward him, all legs and ass cheeks hanging out. Brent’s expression surely mirrored her own shocked one, but he quickly smiled over Drew’s shoulder, putting his finger to his lips. Addi winked and held back a giggle as he winked awkwardly back.

“Come on, let’s put these in the fridge,” Addi said, and Drew set Brent down. Addi put her hand on the child’s back, guiding him away from Drew and Layla. Drew gave Addi one of his assessing looks—the kind where his eyes went back and forth between hers as if reading her like a book. She lowered her face, knowing she’d asked this man to bed her only two hours earlier. Although she couldn’t see anything in his expression that said he was annoyed or disgusted with her, it didn’t matter because she was disgusted with herself.

“Pick me out a good one, buddy.”

Brent nodded and Addi led him to the mess hall. She wasn’t even sure if there was still a fridge in there, let alone a functioning one, but again that wasn’t the point. She needed to give Drew and Layla a minute, but more important, keep Brent away from the surly man who had started to cuss out his mother.

When Addi looked back, Layla’s arms were around Drew’s neck and Drew’s hands clasped her wrists tightly. Was he removing her hands or holding them there like handcuffs? She shivered at the thought of being handcuffed by his large, strong hands, and then scolded herself. God, can you think of anything besides sex?

Addi was just putting the cupcakes in the big old fridge, debating on whether it was cool enough to be working properly, when Brent tapped her on the back. She turned to see the little guy pulling an envelope out of his pocket.

“Here. It’s for you.” The envelope had the words ‘from Brent’ scrawled in childlike printing on the front under the scratched-out credit card company address. He had written his name and address at the top on the lines where the return address should go. “That’s how they send letters to my mom from school.”

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