CHAPTER 7
COWBOY
The moment my phone alarm goes off, I’m already reaching for it while looking down at Brielle and holding my breath. She shifts but doesn’t wake up. I’m able to slide out from underneath her, but I hate it.
I fucking hate leaving her.
Again.
I saw her eyes when she looked up at me last night. She didn’t try to hide her emotions—the uncertainty, the wariness, the concern that she couldn’t trust me. It gutted me.
But then I erased those feelings.
With my hands sliding along her skin and my mouth kissing her flesh. Then there were my words, my promises I’m bound to because loyalty has never been performative for me.
Hopefully I’m back before she wakes up. Because we need to talk. About a lot of fucking things.
I’m not going to be able to take another night of her dancing at Elysium. I just can’t. Yes, I’m aware feeling that way makes me an asshole.
I don’t fucking care.
It’s not like I would ever strip her dreams from her, but this? My club’s casino? I can’t do it.
Rian told me about my woman’s dream of opening a studio. I have no doubt my smart little girl told me for a reason.
How many times have I told her I’ll always help make her dreams come true if it’s within my power? Yeah, she’s smart all right.
My movements are calm but quick as I pull my clothes on and slip out of my room. The hallway is quiet and I’m sure that the main floor of the clubhouse, which is one floor down, is quiet as well. But I don’t have time to stop there.
I head right to my motorcycle and settle into the few minutes I’m on the road where the traffic is light and easy to navigate on the way home. My shoulders relax slightly the moment I step inside and take in the evidence of the world I share with my daughter.
Mrs. Carpenter is already in the kitchen and looks startled for a moment, her sharp gaze taking me in quickly. The good thing is I know she won’t judge me for walking through the door this early in the morning.
She’s worked for me for years, ever since I realized I needed help with balancing being a father, work, and the club. Her job is to fill the gaps in the house and with the things Rian needs. Like safety and someone at home for her, someone who genuinely cares for her.
“It looks like you had a good night,” the middle-aged woman who has become like a second mother to me and grandmother to Rian teases me.
“Don’t start.”
She holds her hands up in surrender. “I’m not starting anything. I simply made a statement.”
“Uh huh,” I grunt and give her a deadpan look.
But then she hands me a cup of coffee and I soften. I always do. It’s hard to stay mad at her, especially because she loves my girl fiercely.
“I was just about to make sure little miss gets up. School doesn’t wait, even for biker princesses,” she tries to sound sage, but it falls flat. And sarcastic.
“I’ll get her up and get her off to school. Thanks for staying with her last night.”
She waves off my words like she always does. The guest room is set up for her when she has to sleep over here instead of living in the small house in the back which was intended to be a mother-in-law suite but suites my needs perfectly.
We all get privacy and a little separation, but Mrs. Carpenter is still close when she’s needed. I know my girl is safe and taken care of which is fucking gold.
“I’ll head home then,” she says over her shoulder while already breezing out of the room and back to whatever she does when she’s not here. I’m fairly sure there is yarn involved, but that’s none of my business.
With a cringe, I head toward my daughter’s room. Maybe I should have let Mrs. Carpenter wake her up. The struggle is real when it comes to coaxing her out of bed.
It’s kind of baffling because she loves school. Once she gets there. But telling her to get up so she can go to school?
You would think I was telling her the world was ending because a meteor was hurtling right toward us. And she’s always extremely dramatic about it. Because of course she is.
I unceremoniously shove open her door, my voice filled with forced brightness as I flip on her light, “Good morning, Rian. It’s time to get up and get the day started.”
My daughter lets out a groan that would make more sense coming out of a demon. One of her eyes slides open and I swear she’s picturing a minimum of 30 ways to kill me right now.
“No.”
It’s all she says, one huffed out word of refusal. But the thing is, she means it. She desperately wants to say no to me and stay in bed until she’s ready to get up. Only then will she greet the day.
Unfortunately for her, that is not really an option. Not if she’s going to get to school on time. While it might be a low priority for her, it’s at the top of my list today.
The knowledge that Brielle is still asleep in my bed at the clubhouse is a constant pulse, one I can’t ignore but have to push away for now. Fuck, she better still be asleep when I get back.
Or I have a feeling I’ll have one pissed off woman on my hands.
“Yes,” I deadpan right back.
Then I’m striding toward my room because I need a shower and to change my clothes. I keep the shower brief, mostly because I need to stay on Rian to make sure that she really gets up and gets ready.
Gone are the days of brushing her hair for her. For the most part, she’s got everything handled. I am needed when it comes to buying new clothes and making sure all her essentials are stocked. Other than that? She has it covered.
And doesn’t that just hit me right in the middle of the chest?
But I’m not going to become some blubbering fucking idiot because my daughter is growing up. At least not this morning because I can’t waste any time getting back.
After I’m dressed, I peek into Rian’s room to find her dressed and brushing her hair with a look on her face like she’s resigned herself to meeting the firing squad soon. It’s adorable. And I’m sure it’s only a preview of the upcoming teenage years.
When she hears me, Rian’s head snaps up and she narrows her eyes at me like I’ve wronged her in some heinous way. I almost shrink back but then I remember who I am—a badass biker who won’t be intimidated by someone who isn’t even double digits yet when it comes to her age.
Not yet, but soon.
“Oh good,” I chirp, “you’re up. Cute outfit.”
Rian cringes and looks down at herself. “Maybe I should change,” she mumbles.
I gasp and press my hand to my chest; the move has a smile breaking free on the pouting face of my girl. Good. Just what I was going for.
“Come on, get moving. I’m taking you to school this morning.”
Her eyes light up and she’s bouncing on her toes, “On the bike?”
Damn. I hate disappointing her.
“Not today.” When her mouth tips down in a frown, which I fucking despise, I’m quick to explain. “I need my truck for a few things today. We’ll take a ride on the bike this weekend,” I promise.
“Not this weekend.” When my eyebrows pull together in confusion, she explains, “This weekend we’re going to see Mimi and Papa, remember?”
“Fuck,” I bite out and Rian giggles.
She tried to get me to use a swear jar once. But it was futile. When she tried to institute it with the club? It was fucking hilarious.
And bless her sweet self for thinking it was going to fly.
It would have padded her college fund though.
“I forgot for a moment,” I admit and rub the back of my neck. “We’ll find the time.”
She nods and I breathe a sigh of relief because there’s no wariness in her expression with my promise. It tells me that she has no reason to believe I won’t follow through.
I might think I’m fucking up this father thing most of the time, but her believing my words are true, because I’ve shown her that they are, must count for something. Right?
I fucking hope so.
“Okay,” she chirps before brushing past me to go and brush her teeth.
We move with practiced efficiency until we’re in my truck and heading toward her school. I glance over at her and notice the look on her face is filled with concentration.
“You’re thinking awfully hard over there. Planning your time at Sagebrush?”
Rian glances my way and flashes me a brilliant smile, one that warms my heart and helps me remember that this has been all worth it. Because of her.
“You didn’t come home last night,” there’s no judgement or accusation in her words, only truth.
Still, I swallow hard, unsure of where this conversation is going and more than a little afraid at all the possibilities in terms of emotional destinations.
“You were at work?” She doesn’t ask like she’s curious to know the answer; she asks like she already knows it.
“Kind of.”
I could lie. I could tell her I was clocked in and working hard. But it wouldn’t be the truth. I wasn’t working. I was at where I work though.
But I’ve never lied to Rian and I’m not going to start now.
“And you weren’t on the club floors.” Again, she says it as a statement.
“Not at first.”
“Uh huh,” she huffs. When I glance at her, she’s pouting slightly. I can almost see her frustration rising. “Were you with Brielle?”
My hands jerk slightly, but I correct instantly and scowl. “You can’t just blurt out those kinds of questions, Rian,” I scold her, but there’s no real heat in my words.
The giggle that comes out of my daughter makes me question my status as a dangerous badass biker. I love to hear her laughter.
“You didn’t answer,” she sing-songs her words.
“I was,” I grunt.
“I like her. The way she dances,” the sigh that comes out of my daughter is one I recognize because of the hints of wonder in the sound, “is beautiful. She glides across the floor like she understands what it means to be a shooting star.”
I suck in a sharp breath and blink quickly because there is no way I’m going to allow myself to cry right now. Not right now.
“She does,” I whisper.
“I saw the way you looked at her.” The words are soft and without any artifice.