Page 119 of Single Mom's Bikers

The wordDaddycatches me sometimes. How easily both girls adapted to having three fathers.

“Tell you what.” I tap the wolf drawing. “Keep practicing. By the time you’re old enough, you’ll be better than Chase.”

“Don’t let him hear that.” Evie laughs. “His ego’s big enough.”

“Too late.” Chase appears from inside, carrying more drinks. “Already planning her apprenticeship.”

“Twenty years.” Evie insists again.

“Twenty years.” Chase kisses her temple. “Plenty of time to perfect her style.”

Violet abandons her game, drawn by our conversation. “I want one too! With unicorns and dragons and?—”

“And juice.” I hand her a cup, cutting off what would definitely be an elaborate mythological menagerie. “Drink up, game master.”

She gulps her juice, already planning her next activity.

The afternoon settles into comfortable chaos. More MC brothers drift in, drawn by laughter and cold beer. Owen arrives with Draven and Rose, immediately joining the girls in their game.

I watch it all through an artist’s eye—the composition of a family built from broken pieces. How naturally bikers and children mix. The way Rose relaxes into Draven’s side, her federal agent edge softening.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Rick appears, handing a bottle to me.

“Just observing.” I accept the bottle. “How normal this feels. MC members play kids’ games. Former FBI agents at the grill. Three brothers sharing one woman and five kids.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Five?”

“Two here.” I touch Evie’s stomach as she passes. “Two cooking. One Owen. Do the math.”

His laugh carries across the patio, making others look up. But he gets it—how our family expands in unexpected ways, how love grows to include more than we planned.

“Daddy Zane!” Violet calls. “Come learn the new part!”

“Duty calls.” I hand Rick my beer. “Try not to laugh when I fail as badly as Clay.”

But I go because that’s what fathers do. We learn complicated games and talent and build families from whatever pieces life gives us.

Night settles over Wolf Pike, transforming our backyard into shadows and starlight. The party’s wound down—kids tucked into beds, MC brothers rumbling home on their bikes. Just the quiet aftermath of family chaos remains.

Evie moves around the kitchen, loading the dishwasher while humming something under her breath. The sight of her in bare feet, wearing one of my brother’s shirts, hits me harder than any whiskey.

“Girls asleep?” I slide behind her, hands finding her hips.

“Finally.” She leans back against me. “Violet made Teller promise three times to learn the rest of her game tomorrow.”

“Poor bastard doesn’t know what he’s in for.” I kiss her neck, tasting salt and sunshine. “She’ll have him doing choreography next.”

Her laugh vibrates through both of us. “Like you were any better at it.”

“Hey, I nailed that cross-snap thing.” My fingers slip under her shirt, finding bare skin. “Got talented hands, remember?”

“Mmm.” She turns in my arms. “Prove it.”

The challenge in her eyes, the way she bites her lip—she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. Ever since that first day she moved in next door.

“Here?” I glance toward the stairs where my brothers disappeared to shower. “Bit public, don’t you think?”

“Since when are you shy?” She pulls me down for a kiss that tastes like promise. “Besides, they’ll find us eventually.”

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