Page 5 of A Christmas Surprise for the Biker

As he opens his door, he shoots me a wink. Like a fiend, I watch him stalk around the hood of the SUV, come right to my door, and open it.

“It’s upstairs. My office is through there.” He points to the glass door on the first floor that reads,Fugitive Recovery Services.

“What is Fugitive Recovery Services?” I ask, sliding out of the truck and watching as he opens the door to get Ry.

“Baby, I’m a bounty hunter.”

Now it’s my turn to have my mind blown. “Come again?”

Legend’s lips twitch. “I chase fugitives who jump bail. For a fee, of course.”

“Of course,” I deadpan. Because why would anyone chase after dangerous criminals without getting paid?

He chuckles as he grabs my bag and motions to a set of stairs running along the side of the building.

I follow him up and stand back to wait for him to unlock the door.

“Home, sweet home,” he says, pushing the door open to reveal an open-concept living space that takes up the entire top floor of the warehouse.

Holy shit. This place is amazing.

Floor-to-ceiling windows line one wall, the focal point the breathtaking Miami skyline. There’s exposed brick with metal beams overhead. A massive leather sectional dominates the living space, facing a state-of-the-art entertainment system. The kitchen is all gleaming stainless steel and dark granite, with ahuge island and barstools shoved underneath. Off to the side is a hallway that leads to what I assume are the bedrooms.

The whole space screams luxury bachelor pad.

Legend moves around me and sets my bag down on the couch before turning to face me. “There's a bedroom where you can lay him down,” he says, gesturing towards the hallway. “I'll show you.”

I trail behind him down the hall to an open door. Inside, there's a twin bed, a desk with a computer sitting on top of it, and a large cork board with lots of mugshots and wanted posters. Judging by the looks of it, he must have used this space as an office.

“This was your work?” I ask, eyeing his stuff as I unbuckle Ryder and lift him into my arms. He stirs, unhappy about being messed with, and his little face scrunching up as he lets out an angry cry.

“He’s getting hungry,” I think the words out loud.

I can feel Legend’s eyes on me as I sit down on the edge of the bed and lift my shirt. Without thought to the audience, I pull down the cup of my bra and position Ryder at my breast. “Shh, it's okay, little man,” I whisper.

“Brae,” I hear Legend rasp.

My eyes jump to his, and again, I see the mix of emotions playing out on his face: surprise, awe, lust.

I ignore it all.

I didn’t come here for that. I came here for my son.

Once Ryder’s satisfied, I straighten my shirt, then gently lift him onto my shoulder and pat his back until he lets out a burp that could rival a grown man.

“He falls asleep fast.”

I glance down at my son and grin. He’s out for the count. “He does. It’s what they call a milk coma,” I tease.

With Ry good for a few more hours, I carefully situate him on the bed, change him into a fresh diaper, and surround him with the pillows to keep him from rolling off. Not that he’s started rolling yet, but I’m not willing to risk it.

Turning back to Legend, I see he’s looking me over with a critical eye. “You look tired.”

I’m not sure if I should be offended or impressed. I decide that I’m neither and admit, “I am.”

He nods. “Come on.” I follow him out of the office and into the next room.

His room.

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