Page 6 of Faking it with the Bad Boy Bikers

I stepped outside to fiddle with my car as sadness coated my skin like oil. I couldn’t seem to scrub it off, no matter how hard I tried. Losing my family all those years ago had been brutal. I’d been homeless for a few months before Virginia found me but after those terrifying three months, I’d been home. Virginia and Blade had loved me with everything they had and losing them was a blow I couldn’t seem to catch my breath from.

Finding out Mom and Dad were dead was shocking and I knew I was processing it but I wasn’t sure anything would hurt like losing Virginia and Blade.

Blade had taken me under his wing as soon as he found out I could work on cars. Before that, he hadn’t been sure what to do with me, a very pregnant teen girl who walked around with fear in her eyes. Cars and motorcycles brought us together. He owned his own garage which was connected to their MC and he continued my education. We’d built my car together over a two-year period and Virginia had to fight to get us inside most nights. My car was how I felt closest to Blade and I needed the connection that night.

I checked the oil and made a note to change it the next day after buying new oil. I wasn’t ready to go back inside just yet so I went on checking everything else I could in the dark. I could hearWaylan giggling from inside and knew she was having the time of her life hanging out with Ms. Vivian. She’d missed Virginia and Blade so having attention from a grandma-like figure was probably filling her cup.

I stiffened at the sound of motorcycles drawing nearer. I hadn’t left Arkansas under the best of conditions and at the back of my mind, I knew my problem could follow me. I straightened and walked around to the trunk to grab a heavy metal wrench. Gripping it tight, I walked back around to the front of the car and waited. If Hammer showed up, he wouldn’t be running me off again. He’d take a wrench to the head before I let him touch me or Waylan.

As the sound of three bikes drew closer and closer, I ran through the club members in my head to figure out who might’ve come with Hammer. He wasn’t exactly popular in the MC but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be club guys who’d come with him just for the ride and the excitement. I dropped the wrench to my side and shifted so it was hidden behind my leg. The alarm bells went off in my head as I saw three singular headlights coming my way. Flexing my fingers on the wrench, I took a deep breath and waited.

When the first bike pulled in beside my car, I let that breath out and briefly closed my eyes. It wasn’t Hammer. I recognized the man closest to me as the man who’d caught Papa Jack and Waylan. The two men who parked after him were just as big and rugged looking as him, almost more so, but they weren’t Hammer.

As the bikes shut off and the silence almost exploded through the night, I blew out a shaky breath and forced myself to turn back to my car. Beatrix. My car’s name was Beatrix. I tried to focus on her but I felt their eyes on me.

The two farthest from me nodded at me and went inside. The man who’d spoken to me at the ranch stepped closer and eyedthe wrench I hadn’t dropped. Without the drama of Mills ripping me a new one, I could take notice of him. He was dark, black hair and brown eyes so deep they looked black from where I stood. His hair was cropped short, almost shorter than his beard. I could see tattoos snaking down his arms, past his t-shirt, and up his neck from the collar. He was a far cry from Hammer, in that he was beautiful and had arms as thick as my thighs. “Ma’am. Everything okay?”

I slammed the hood shut and went around to toss the wrench in the trunk. Ma’am? I was barely twenty-six. Did I look older? Stress could age a woman but I hadn’t thought it’d gotten to me enough for me to suddenly be a ma’am. “Yep. Everything’s fine. Thanks for catching my circus earlier, by the way.”

“That was a mighty big wrench. Sure you don’t need anything?”

I made the mistake of meeting his gaze and stumbled. He was honed in on me like a laser. Those dark eyes didn’t seem to miss a thing. Clearing my throat, I hurried past him towards the front door. “I’m sure. I was just checking the oil.”

“Needed a big wrench for that?” He raised a thick eyebrow at me and I could tell his eyes were scanning me, even in the dark. I could feel them like a touch. In the weak light on the front porch of Vivian’s two-story farmhouse I could see a pale line through the eyebrow he raised, a scar.

I pulled open the door and shot him a look over my shoulder. “Yep.”

Inside, I came to a sudden halt when I saw that both Waylan and Papa Jack were circling the first two bikers who’d gone in. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the fact my kid was more comfortable with giant men in leathers and tattoos than she was with sweet old grandma types.

“What’s your name? I’m Waylan. My mom is Nellie. I call her Mom, though. I heard your bikes. Mom works on bikes, youknow? She’s cool.” Waylan hadn’t noticed me as she pranced around, circling like a nosey little shark. “We used to live with a bunch of bikers. In Arkansas. Have you ever been to Arkansas?”

Papa Jack chirped and then leapt from the ground into a pair of heavily tattooed arms. The man who caught him grunted and took a step back. “Jesus. Heavy fucking thing, isn’t he?”

Before I could say anything, Waylan wagged her finger at him. “No cussin’ in the house, mister.”

“Waylan.” I hurried over to her and pulled her into me. Holding her pressed against my front, I shot her a look when she gazed up at me. “We’re going to have a long talk about minding our own business later.”

“This yours, too?” When I looked up at the man holding Papa Jack, I thought that maybe I’d died and gone to sexy biker heaven. He was covered in tattoos and had his dirty blonde hair pulled back in a bun at the back of his head. Dark green eyes stared down at me and the angry slash of his mouth made him look almost mean.

I cleared my throat and nodded. “Yep.”

“Oh! Have you met? Nellie, this is Henry, Seth, and Woodrow. Guys, this is Nellie and Waylan.” Ms. Vivian swept into the foyer and smiled brightly at all of us.

“And Papa Jack.” Waylan wiggled away from me and moved to stand in front of the third biker, the one Ms. Vivian had indicated as Seth. “Your eyes look like Killer’s dog’s eyes. He was a Husky.”

I bit back a groan. Seth did have similar pale blue eyes to Killer’s dog, Little Killer. He also had chocolate brown hair that fell messily over his forehead and a thick beard which almost hid the scar cutting across his mouth. It really was sexy biker heaven with the three of them standing there.

“Killer wasn’t the dog’s name?” Seth grunted.

“Nope. Killer was one of Grandpa Blade’s friends. Grandpa Blade said he had a top-shit shot but couldn’t hurt a fly. Little Killer would eat your granny, though.”

“Hey. You don’t cuss in the houseoroutside the house, baby. And don’t repeat things Grandpa Blade said unless you run them by me first.” I took a deep breath and looked up at Henry. All three of the men towered over me, despite my taller than average height, but Henry was the closest to me and I had to tip my head back slightly to meet his intense gaze. “I’ll take my cat back now.”

“Are y’all good bikers? If you’re bad bikers, Mom won’t like it.” Waylan put her hands on her hips and studied all three men. “I think you’re good bikers.”

“Jesus Christ.” I muttered the words under my breath and quickly scooped Papa Jack out of Henry’s arms before planting my other hand firmly on top of Waylan’s head to steer her towards the stairs. “I am so sorry. We’re just going to head up to bed now. Nice to meet y’all. Goodnight, Ms. Vivian. Say goodnight and nothing else, Waylan.”

“Aw, Mom.” Waylan huffed and quickly spun away from me to go give each of the bikers hugs around their legs. Then she stopped at Ms. Vivian and awkwardly waved at her before racing up the stairs. “I bit the one in the back earlier, Mom.”

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