Page 77 of Baby for the Bikers

“Rowan?” Maddox frowns. “At this hour?”

Ryder’s expression darkens. “Something’s wrong.”

We move as one to the front door. I reach it first, pulling it open just as she raises her hand to knock. The sight of her freezes me in place.

Rowan stands on our porch, a duffel bag clutched in her white-knuckled grip. Her face is pale, eyes wide with panic. She isn’t wearing the same clothes from earlier. Her hair is damp, like she showered and left without drying it.

“I—” she starts, then falters as she takes in the three of us, shirtless and sleep-rumpled despite our alert postures. Something flickers across her face—fear giving way to something more complex, more heated. The way she looks at us makes my blood burn despite the seriousness of the moment.

“What happened?” I ask, stepping back to let her in.

She enters cautiously, her gaze darting around the entryway. “I need a place to stay tonight. Maybe…maybe longer.”

“Why?” Ryder’s voice is soft but insistent.

Rowan sets her bag down, her shoulders drooping slightly. “My past is catching up with me. I can’t—I don’t feel safe at my apartment anymore.”

“Who’s after you?” I demand, closing and locking the door.

“I’ll explain everything when I’m ready,” she says, wrapping her arms around herself. “I promise. But right now, I just need somewhere safe to stay. I can’t be alone in that apartment. Not tonight, not anytime soon. I don’t feel protected there.”

Maddox and Ryder exchange a look I can’t quite interpret. We all hear what she isn’t saying—there’s real danger, something specific that triggered this midnight flight.

“You can stay as long as you need,” I tell her. “We have plenty of room.”

Relief floods her face, her body sagging slightly. “Thank you. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You did the right thing,” Maddox says. You’re safe here.”

“Guest room’s this way,” I tell her, guiding her down the east corridor.

The room is simple but comfortable—queen bed with soft linens, attached bathroom, large windows overlooking the forest. It’s the room farthest from our bedrooms, which suddenly seems like both a blessing and a curse.

“Make yourself at home,” I say, stepping back into the hallway. “The bathroom should have everything you need. If not?—”

“I’ll be fine,” she interrupts, offering a weak smile. “Thank you. All of you.”

I nod, giving her the space she clearly needs. “We’ll talk in the morning. Get some rest.”

Back in the kitchen, my brothers wait, tension visible in the set of their shoulders. “She’s running from something,” Maddox says the moment I join them. “Or someone.”

“That much is obvious,” I agree, keeping my voice low. “Question is, who? And how much danger is she really in?”

“Enough to send her here in the middle of the night,” Ryder observes.

We’ve all noticed her hyperawareness, the subtle combat skills that ordinary bakers don’t possess. Now she’s at our door, frightened and seeking protection. The pieces are adding up to a picture I’m not sure I want to see clearly.

“We’ll get the full story when she’s ready,” I decide. “For now, she stays here where we can keep her safe.”

My brothers nod in agreement, but there’s something else swirling beneath the surface—the undeniable pull we all feel toward her, intensified by her presence under our roof.

“Get some sleep,” I tell them. “We’ll figure this out in the morning.”

Two hours later,I’m still wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Knowing Rowan is just down the hall, in our house, in our space—it makes my skin prickle with awareness. I’ve tried to focus on the danger she might be in, on our responsibility to protect her, but my mind keeps circling back to more primal thoughts.

I give up on sleep, sliding out of bed to get some water. The house is silent as I pad down the hallway, but a soft sound catches my attention—coming from behind the guest room door.

She’s still awake.

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