Page 70 of Baby for the Bikers

I nod, not trusting my voice, as another wave of awareness ripples through me. Every time I move a certain way, I feel the ghost of Brick’s possession—how he claimed me so thoroughly, took me in ways I’d never experienced before. The marks he left are fading, but the memory remains vivid.

Inside, the diner is quiet—that mid-afternoon lull between lunch and dinner. All the stolen items have been replaced, and the broken equipment fixed. It’s almost like the break-in was nothing but a fever dream.

But I know better than to ask too many questions. So when Ryder said they took care of it and caught the thief, I left it like that. Scenarios like this are common in the MC world.

I wipe down tables, my mind wandering. In less than two weeks, my debt to the brothers will be paid. The thought should bring relief, but instead, it brings a hollow feeling I’m not ready to examine.

“You’re distracted today,” Ryder observes, appearing beside me again with that uncanny silence.

I jump, nearly knocking over a saltshaker. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

I hesitate, then decide that honesty is easier than creating another lie to keep track of. “My time here is almost up. In less than a week, my debt will be paid in full.”

“Have you decided what you’ll do after?” He leans against the booth, arms crossed over his broad chest, his dark gaze steady on mine.

“That’s the problem,” I admit. “I had two whole months to figure out what I wanted, and somehow time just…flew past.”

“Because you were occupied,” he says simply. “Working. Learning the town. Getting…” He pauses, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Acquainted.”

Heat crawls up my neck at the gentle reminder of everything that’s happened between us. Between me and all of them.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Ryder continues, his voice low enough that only I can hear. “Your position here will always be open. You can keep working until you get your footing.”

The offer touches something deep inside me—a longing for stability and belonging that I’ve denied myself since leaving San Francisco.

“Thank you,” I say softly.

He nods, then moves away, and the conversation finishes as abruptly as it begins. Typical Ryder.

I followhis bike through town as dusk settles over Wolf Pike. Every bump in the road sends a jolt of awareness through my body—the lingering tenderness from Brick’s rough attention.

He bent me over and took me from behind with a dominance that still makes me shiver to recall. I’d never been touched there before, never felt that particular blend of pain and pleasure that had me screaming into his sheets.

And yet, despite the discomfort, I still crave more. Still imagine what it would feel like to have all three of them at once. Thethought disgusts me, but it also makes heat pool between my thighs and makes my grip tighten on the handlebars.

I’m losing my mind. That’s the only explanation. No sane woman would want what I want, would do what I’ve done.

Black Dog Garage appears, its neon sign glowing in the deepening twilight. Ryder pulls around back, leading me into the large service bay usually reserved for custom work. The space echoes with our engines, then falls silent as we cut the power.

“Won’t take long,” Ryder says, already moving toward his tools with purpose.

I watch as he works, his movements efficient and precise. There’s something hypnotic about the way his muscles shift beneath his T-shirt, the way his hands handle tools with such confidence. Those same hands touched every inch of me in that pantry and made me fall apart under his skilled attention.

“You’re staring,” he says without looking up.

I flush, caught. “Just appreciating your technique.”

Now he does look up, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Which one?”

The question hangs between us, loaded with meaning. My pulse quickens as his dark, knowing eyes hold mine.

“The mechanical one,” I say, but we both know I’m lying.

He finishes with the chain, checking the tension once more before standing. “Good as new.”

“Thank you.” My voice comes out huskier than I intended.

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