Page 10 of Her Savior Biker
I stay where I am, watching her pour juice with hands that aren’t quite steady. Whatever just happened between us, it changed something. Shifted the ground we’re standing on.
Shannon Cole is going to be the death of me.
And I’m thinking that might not be such a bad way to go.
Shannon
Iyawnandstretch,cuddling around Aiden’s warm body in the early morning hour. His steady breathing is sweeter than a bird’s early morning song. For the first time in weeks, I don’t wake up scanning for threats. My body feels loose, rested in a way I’d forgotten was possible.
Safe.
The word sits strange in my mind, like a language I used to speak but haven’t practiced in years. When was the last time I felt truly safe? Before Mason, certainly. Maybe not since Aiden’s father died and left us alone in a world that doesn’t much care about women like me.
But here, in this bed that smells like clean sheets and lavender detergent, with my son curled against my side like a warm comma, I can almost pretend we’re normal people living a normal life.
Almost.
Aiden stirs, blinking sleepy eyes at me. “Morning, Mama.”
“Morning, baby.” I brush his hair back from his forehead. “You sleep okay?”
He nods, then sits up with the sudden energy only three-year-olds possess. “Can we have pancakes?”
Pancakes. Such a simple thing, but it makes my chest tight with something that might be hope. When’s the last time he asked for something just because he wanted it, not because he was desperately hungry?
“I think we can manage that.”
A motorcycle pulls up outside while I’m mixing batter. My heart does this stupid little skip, and I tell myself it’s just relief that Savior’s checking in, not anticipation.
Aiden bounces toward the window. “He’s here!”
Three quick knocks, then the front door opens. “Shannon?”
“Kitchen,” I call, trying to keep my voice casual.
Savior fills the doorway, and the space feels too small. He’s wearing those faded jeans again and a charcoal henley that does absolutely nothing to hide the width of his shoulders. His hair’s damp like he just got out of the shower, and I catch the scent of soap and motor oil.
“Morning,” he says, nodding to Aiden before his gaze finds mine. “Kitchen faucet still giving you trouble?”
Right. I’d mentioned yesterday that it drips constantly. “It’s not too bad.”
“I’ve got tools in the truck. Won’t take long to fix.”
He moves toward the sink, and I have to step aside to let him pass. Our bodies brush, just for a second, but it’s enough to make my skin prickle with awareness. He doesn’t seem to notice, already examining the faucet with the focused attention he gives everything.
“Need to turn the water off under the sink,” he says, crouching down to open the cabinet.
I try to keep cooking, but the kitchen’s not big enough for both of us to work. Every time I reach for something, I’m aware of where he is, how close we are. When I move to the stove, my hip almost touches his shoulder. When he stands up, I have to step back, and my spine hits the counter.
“Coffee?” I ask, needing something to do with my hands.
“Thanks.”
I pour him a cup, and when I hand it to him, our fingers brush. Just skin touching skin for half a second, but heat shoots up my arm like I’ve been shocked.
Savior’s eyes flick to mine, and I wonder if he felt it too. But his expression stays carefully neutral.
“Need to grab a different wrench from the shed,” he says, setting the cup down. “This one’s stripped.”
