Page 29 of Baby for the Bikers

Jesus, those tattoos. Those muscles. The way sweat made his skin gleam under the kitchen lights…

I shake my head, climbing the familiar creaking stairs to my apartment. Thinking about Ryder while Maddox is picking me up in an hour makes me feel like I’m losing my mind.

“Hey there, stranger!” Tom’s coming down as I’m heading up, tool belt slung over his shoulder. “We were starting to wonder if you still lived here.”

“Work’s been crazy.” I manage a smile.

“Well, do take it easy on yourself. Annie misses having someone to share her casseroles with.”

“I miss having them too. How’s Annie?”

“Taking a nap—caught a summer cold.” He shifts the toolbox to his other hand.

“Oh. Tell her I said hello.”

“Will do.”

It strikes me as I watch him continue down the stairs—how ordinary they are. How simple their lives seem. Just a married couple living their perfectly normal lives.

Inside my apartment, I strip off my work clothes immediately, my skin still carrying the scent of the diner. And something else—the lingering spice of Maddox’s cologne from when he pressed against me in the kitchen. My body tingles at the memory of the way his hardness pushed against my body, making me want things I’ve denied myself for too long.

My knee to his groin was pure self-preservation. I couldn’t let him know how my body reacted, how long it’s been since I felt a man’s touch that wasn’t just casual or professional.

The shower can’t get hot enough to burn away the memory. The water pounds against my skin, and I notice the changes in my body since arriving in Wolf Pike. I’m not as gaunt as I was. My skin has a healthier color—an olive tone emerging now that I’m not living on fear and gas station coffee.

After drying off, I stand in my closet, staring at my pathetic collection of clothes. I need to go shopping soon. I know exactly what the underground racing track Maddox mentioned will be like. Just like the ones Dad ran outside San Francisco. The smell of gasoline and burnt rubber, the roar of engines, money changing hands.

I pull out my favorite racing gear, running my fingers over the familiar leather. It’s been so long since I raced, and I miss it a little. No matter how much I try to run from Dad’s MC, I know I can’t completely escape the MC life—the things that ignite joy in my soul. I grew up with these pleasures. They’re the only things I’ve ever known.

But fuck, I’m tired of being afraid and hiding. And I miss it—the energy, the adrenaline, the raw power of machines pushed to their limits.

I pull on my leather pants, zipping them up with practiced movements. They still fit perfectly, hugging every curve. I pair them with my racing boots, a low-cut black top that shows just enough cleavage to be interesting, and my favorite jacket. In my closet, tucked behind everything else, is my helmet with the Viper insignia gleaming on the side.

Dad’s gift for my seventeenth birthday—the one time he seemed genuinely proud of me. I touch it briefly, then turn away. Can’t risk bringing out that symbol here. Wolf Pike has more MCconnections than I anticipated, and the last thing I need is someone recognizing our club’s mark.

The doorbell rings at precisely eight o’clock, just as I’m applying some light makeup. I check myself in the mirror—subtle eyeliner, mascara, a hint of something on my lips. I’m not trying too hard, but definitely not looking like I just left a kitchen.

When I open the door, my breath actually catches. Maddox is dressed for the event in ways that make my mouth water. Leather pants hug his muscular legs, and motorcycle boots add to his already impressive height.

His black T-shirt stretches across a chest that’s clearly seen its share of workouts. A short leather jacket with silver details completes the look. A heavy silver chain hangs around his neck, drawing attention to the column of his throat and the tattoos peeking from his collar.

“Did you just cut your hair?” I blurt out, immediately wanting to kick myself.

He runs a hand through the freshly trimmed black strands. “Yeah, saw an empty barber shop on the way here and figured I’d patronize him.”

“I thought men were loyal to one barber,” I say, still staring.

“This one couldn’t afford to mess up.” He grins wolfishly. “Not with a gun to his head.”

My eyes widen. “You threatened a man with a gun so you could get a nice haircut?”

He bursts out laughing, pushing past me into my apartment. “You’re too easy to wind up, princess.” He holds up a plastic bag. “Your cleaning supplies, as requested.”

He pushes past me into the apartment before I can invite him in, looking around with obvious curiosity. I haven’t decorated much—just a few books and a plant Mae gave me that I’m trying not to kill.

Maddox sprawls on my couch like he’s done it a hundred times, spreading his arms across the back, his boots landing on my coffee table. His eyes move over me, taking in the leather pants and low-cut top with obvious appreciation.

“You look good, princess,” he says, voice dropping lower. “Real good.”

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