Page 12 of Single Mom's Bikers

“It’s almost eight.” He straightens, putting blessed space between us. “You should head home. The girls will be waiting up for you.”

“Rose is watching them. And Owen came over to play as well. Trust me, they aren’t waiting up for me.”

“You and Rose must be pretty close.”

“We are. My girls and I would probably be dead if it weren’t for her.”

Rick clears his throat. Probably signaling that the conversation is going too far.

The pause is longer this time. “Still. No need to work late,” he finally says.

But he doesn’t leave my doorway. He just stands there, radiating heat and male presence, which are things I can’t think about. Not with his brother Zane’s flirting still ringing in my ears. Not with Chase’s eyes following me every time I pass his station.

“I’d rather finish this.” I turn back to the spreadsheets—boring numbers that don’t make my skin tingle.

He shrugs. “Your choice. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

I manage twenty minutes of actual work before my mind wanders. Rick’s nothing like his brothers. Where Zane flirts openly, and Chase always broods, Rick projects calm authority. It should be off-putting. Instead, it makes me want to see him lose control. Just once.

I know I’m playing with blazing fire, but I can’t help myself. Just like how I had to put on a show from my room all because I saw a shadow moving across the window in the Cross house, in the hope that anyone, someone, was watching me.

I take a deep breath and let my gaze wander as I take a stroll around the shop.

The gallery feels different after hours. It’s sort of quieter and more intimate. The tattoo stations sit silent. Chase’s latest designs are still pinned to his wall. The skull he drew last week grins at me like it knows my secrets.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out and see that it’s a message from Rose:“You’re intentionally working late again. With which of them? Rick, this time?”

I frown, ignoring the text. Rose’s warnings about getting involved echo too loudly already.

Movement catches my eye. Rick passes my door, heading for the break room. His top button is undone. It’s unfair how a simple white shirt can look so good on a man.

The coffee maker gurgles to life. His voice drifts out. “Want a cup?”

“Trying to keep me here longer?” The words come out more flirtatious than intended.

“Last I checked, it was your choice, but I’m starting to like the company.”

Heat crawls up my neck. Rose will kill me. But god, after months of running and hiding, something about Rick Cross makes me want to stay still.

The coffee he brings is perfect—cream, no sugar.

“Thanks.” Our fingers brush during the handoff. Static electricity, I tell myself. Nothing more.

“The girls settling in okay?” He leans against a nearby desk, casual as can be. “Zane mentioned they seem to be getting along pretty well with Owen.”

“Yeah.” I smile despite myself. “Apparently, my four-year-old and your godson are inseparable now.”

“Owen’s got good taste.” His eyes lock on mine. “Must run in the family.”

The air shifts. Thickens. I should look away but can’t seem to remember how.

My phone saves me, buzzing again. Violet’s voice fills the office.

“Mama! Owen says he has a tree house! Can we build one?”

Rick’s expression softens at my daughter’s excitement. It transforms his whole face and makes him look younger.

“We’ll see, but no climbing until I’m home,” I tell her firmly. “Be good for Rose.”

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