Page 80 of Baby for the Bikers

Morning light filtering through unfamiliar curtains brings reality crashing back. I’m in the Kane brothers’ house. I’ve fled my apartment. And I’ve slept with all three of them separately.

God, what a mess.

I force myself out of bed, pulling on the sleep shorts I packed in my hasty escape. A shower helps clear my head, but the anxiety remains—a tight ball in my chest that makes it hard to breathe. I need to tell them the truth. About Dad. About why I’m running. About why I came to them.

But first, coffee.

Their kitchen is exactly what I expected—clean, well-equipped, and masculine in its functionality. I find the coffee maker easily enough, grateful for this small moment of normalcy as the rich aroma fills the air. With my first sip, I try to sort through what I’ll say to them.

The truth feels impossible.Hey guys, I’m actually the daughter of the Vipers MC president, groomed to take over his operation, but I fled instead.Yeah, that’ll go over well.

I’m so lost in thought that I don’t hear Ryder until he’s already in the doorway, his presence filling the space in that quiet way of his. His hair is damp from the shower, his chest bare, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. The sight makes my mouth go dry despite everything.

“Morning,” I say, lifting my mug in a small salute. “Hope you don’t mind. I figured coffee was communal territory.”

His eyes move over me slowly, taking in the tank top, the bare legs, the damp hair. I should feel exposed and vulnerable, but strangely, I don’t.

“Help yourself to anything,” he says, voice still rough from sleep.

The double meaning isn’t lost on me. Heat crawls up my neck as he moves past me to grab his own mug, his body close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

“You sleep okay?” he asks, something knowing in his tone.

“Better than expected,” I lie, avoiding his gaze. The thought of him hearing me last night, hearing his name on my lips, makes my pulse jump.

Footsteps from the hallway announce another arrival. Maddox appears in worn gray joggers, stretching his arms overhead in a way that makes his muscles flex. He stops when he sees me, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Well, good morning, princess,” he says, sauntering over to steal my mug right from my hands. He takes a sip, and grimaces. “Toomuch cream, not enough sugar. You and Ryder have the same terrible taste.”

“Better than your sugar with a splash of coffee,” Ryder mutters.

Maddox hands the mug back, his fingers brushing mine deliberately. “What’s for breakfast? I’m starving.”

“I can make something,” I offer quickly. “It’s the least I can do after barging in on you guys last night.”

“You’re not barging in,” comes Brick’s voice from the doorway. He’s fully dressed, unlike his brothers, though the sleeves of his Henley are pushed up to reveal forearms corded with muscle. “And you’re not cooking. You do enough of that at the diner.”

The diner. My chest tightens. “About that—my two months are up tomorrow. I should probably talk to you about my final payment and?—”

“Later,” Brick interrupts, moving to the fridge. “Food first. Everything else later.”

I watch as they move around the kitchen. Brick pulls out eggs and bacon. Ryder starts slicing bread. Maddox sets the table, complaining the whole time about being given the boring job.

“Sit,” Brick tells me, nodding toward the table. “Coffee’s not breakfast.”

I obey, oddly comfortable being ordered around in their space. The domesticity of the scene makes my heart ache—these three dangerous men making breakfast together, making space for me among them. It feels like a glimpse of something I never knew I wanted.

We eat in silence. Brick’s cooking is simple but perfect—eggs cooked exactly right, bacon crispy, toast golden. I eat more than I have in days, and the safety of their presence somehow unlocks my appetite.

“So,” Maddox says finally, leaning back in his chair. “I think we should address the elephant in the room.”

My fork freezes halfway to my mouth. This is it.

“Which elephant?” Brick asks dryly. “The one where she’s running from something serious enough to send her here in the middle of the night? Or the one where we’ve all been sleeping with her?”

The fork clatters to my plate. “I?—”

“Maybe the elephant where she was moaning all our names last night while getting herself off in our guest room,” Ryder says quietly.

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