Page 22 of Biker Daddy

“Your uncle never let anyone stay in it,” he added and started to walk away. He turned back a minute, looking broody. It didn’t seem like it was her uncle’s decision by his reaction, but then again, she was overtired and probably reading into things. Why the hell should he care? He broke up with her, told he he’d never cared, that he had only been with her to please Ray. And that’s all this was too, a promise to Ray.

“I’ll bring you dinner in a bit and breakfast in the morning. We can talk about your poking problem and the rest of your indiscretions then.”

“I can get my own…” She let her words trail off as he growled.

“The hell you will.” His pace increased and he effectively cut her off by storming away. His gait was most definitely a sexy swagger, but not the intentional kind. He was a natural.

Addi couldn’t help but feel a little breathless watching him in his tight jeans and black scarred motorcycle boots with his shoulders squared and his longish dark hair curling over the collar of his shirt.

As she turned to the little cabin across the gravel drive, fear singed her gut. It was hard enough facing her uncle’s place but the cabin held more memories. She and Uncle Ray spent weeks getting it perfected. That was a time she’d cherished her whole life. No one had cared about her room at home or what she liked or didn’t.

She entered the cabin and despite her reluctance, smiled widely. It had air conditioning and it was also her dream. The bed was not like the bunks in the boys’ cabins or the frilly nightmare she’d had as a teen. It was a cherry wood sleigh bed with a solid yellow quilt and more pillows than anyone needed and everything was spotlessly clean. Best of all there wasn’t one bit of lace anywhere. There were bookshelves lined with her favorites as a teen and a cozy chair with a throw blanket over the armrest. Across from the bed was a dressing table that had pretty antique perfume bottles, and silver brush and mirror set.

Addi pulled out the little stool and sat, staring at herself in the mirror. She looked tired. Lines of worry around her eyes and forehead made her rub her face as if that could remove them. There was a modern porcelain bowl and jug for washing up on the dresser top and she stood to reach for it. That’s when she saw the beautiful antique iron woodstove. She covered her mouth with her hand as she stared. And then her eyes landed on a door at the back of the cabin, one that was never there before, and her brow furrowed. She thought of Drew’s words.

“I added some amenities.”

Addi stood and went to the new door. Opening it, she gaped. It was a bathroom—with a claw-foot tub. None of the cabins had bathrooms. All the campers had used the communal washrooms and showers by the mess hall—she’d used the bathroom in the office and Uncle Ray’s shower when she had been there.

She looked at the room in awe. It not only had a functioning toilet, gorgeous tub, and a pedestal sink but an antique mirror, more antique-looking bottles, and finger, hand, and bath towels. Why was it so painstakingly decorated with the perfect combination of modern and antique if her uncle hadn’t rented it out?

She reached out to the sink. A little divot in the porcelain held different shaped soaps. She picked up an oval-shaped bar and sniffed it. It smelled like lavender. She turned, noticing a metal tray set across the edges of the tub.

One of the little baskets had several bath bombs and another had a gel eye mask. She reached to touch them, too.

The cabin would have been a big seller. She eyed the deep tub and bit her lip. She would love a hot soak with one of those bath bombs fizzing in it, but first she walked through the little cabin again looking at everything anew imagining what her write-up would be.

The pretty butter-yellow cabin with climbing clematis begs to be entered and once you do, you feel like royalty. Suddenly you’re swept away from a North American campground to a gorgeous cottage in the European countryside. New delights peek out from wherever your eyes settle. From the modern sleigh bed to the antique fixtures, the cabin is an absolute darling. You won’t know whether to throw yourself into the cloud of pillows on the silky quilt or to fill the tub and soak your stresses away. Either way, this is one place you’ll forget your troubles for a while.

The cabin was completely out of place in the camp—as ridiculous as glamping. The bunk cabins were rough, with natural wood interiors—plain and basic. The blankets were sleeping bags and the mattresses hard, plastic-covered, and smelled of damp and wood smoke. There were spider webs in the corners and dust and sand could always be found even though they were cleaned thoroughly on a regular basis. It was the way of the outdoors. That was camp life. At least that’s how they used to be. But maybe they’d been upgraded too.

She was fondling the expensive sheets on the bed when Drew gave a quick knock and walked in. He took up a large part of the cabin with his towering form. His arms, covered in sleeve tattoos, pulled her eyes again. They were the things of horror films—demons, howling souls being tortured in hell, snakes in skulls, and who knew what other terrors. She looked at his face instead.

“Hi,” she said quietly.

He had a faded brown tray, one of the old ones from the mess hall. He set it on the small antique bistro table in the corner of the room by the door, never removing his eyes from hers.

“It’s just a sandwich and some milk, but you need something.”

“Thank you. For the sandwich and for making my cabin so gorgeous.”

He scratched his beard, looking awkward.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so crazy. I know I’ve been rude to you,” she added.

“You’re welcome.” He placed his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side. “Baby girl, I’m giving you some leeway here because I know you’re grieving, but one of these times you’re going to push me to the edge. I don’t put up with that shit.”

She sat on the bed, still pawing the sheets. “Okay.” She looked at him through her lashes, his handsome face and intelligent eyes making her heart patter. “I’m not sure I’d be as forgiving as you if it were me.”

“Oh, you deserve a good old-fashioned spanking, baby girl—” He smirked. “But like I said, you get some leeway—for now.”

“What if even I think I deserve that spanking?” She surprised herself with the question and swallowed hard at the throbbing heat that started in between her legs.

“Too bad, sweetheart. I’m the daddy. I decide what you need and when.”

She smiled, her heartbeat doubling its pace. “Joking aside, Drew, I thought it was hard when I was a kid, but adulting is no picnic either.”

He came and sat beside her on the bed, handing her half of the sandwich and wrapping his arm around her. He watched her with a crooked brow until she took a bite.

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