Chapter 8
HANNAH
Griffin walked back into the house a couple of hours later, and I felt the shift in him immediately. He seemed more focused. The domestic vibe from breakfast was still there, but there was something harder beneath it.
His eyes found me the second he stepped through the door. The intensity in them made my stomach tighten in a way that was becoming familiar—and far too addictive.
“I need to head over to the garage and check in.”
I was surprised he hadn’t just stopped there before coming back. “Okay.”
“Come with me.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, just crossed the room to scoop Isa out of her swing like it was the most natural thing in the world. I stood there staring at him, the rational side of my brain screaming that this was all happening way too fast while he buckled her in her carrier.
I knew I should pump the brakes and set some boundaries.
I was a CPS caseworker in Atlanta. He was a bossy biker named on my foster baby’s birth certificate because his identical twin pretended to be him during a one-night stand.
I didn’t let people in, and he was the last person I should break that rule for.
But my feet were already moving. I grabbed the diaper bag and followed him without a word. Again.
Falling into step with him felt too right, and that scared me as much as it thrilled me. Whatever was building between us was happening at a blistering pace. My heart kept whispering that I should just go for it, even while my head warned me to slow down.
After climbing into the passenger seat of his SUV, I twisted around and laughed softly when I spotted the car seat base in the back. “That looks too new to be the one from my car.”
“Figured we’d need one for each vehicle. Easier than switching them around all the time.”
His explanation blew me away. I shouldn’t have been surprised by his thoughtfulness after all he’d done in such a short time, but it still got to me.
The ride to Inferno Cycles and Customs was quiet, but that changed as soon as we walked inside. Between the clanging of tools, the low hum of voices, and the occasional rev of an engine, the shop was controlled chaos.
This was Griffin’s world, and he was sharing it with me.
I enjoyed seeing him in his element. A couple of the guys did double-takes at the sight of him carrying a baby and me trailing right behind, but he acted like it was completely normal.
One of the mechanics grinned and called out, “Damn, Cross. Moving fast. Already starting a family?”
I expected him to brush it off or make some vague joke, but he didn’t. Instead, he lifted his chin in acknowledgment and kept walking. No denial or playing it down, which made my heart melt a little more.
I was practically a puddle of goo when he pulled Isa from the carrier to cradle her against his chest. Unfortunately—or luckily, depending on how you looked at it—the moment didn’t last long.
A guy came over and muttered, “Got some club business to discuss, Cross.”
Griffin handed Isa to me. “I’ll just be a minute.”
He moved a few feet away and kept his voice low enough that I couldn’t catch the details. It was the second time I’d felt like things were happening around me that I wasn’t supposed to ask about. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it yet.
Part of me wanted to push for answers. It was what I’d normally do. But I liked how easily I was slipping into his orbit, as though I belonged at his side. I’d never experienced that with someone before, not even my parents.
My home looked idyllic from the outside, but my mom was volatile, and my dad was emotionally unreliable. Their arguments went too far a lot of the time, and it wasn’t rare for them to get mad enough over something small I did to give me the silent treatment.
Growing up in that environment had taught me early on how to read a room. My childhood made me a better caseworker. There were too many times when I wished someone would step in and make things better. Now I was that person for kids in the system.
From everything I’d seen from Griffin already, it was clear he could easily be that person for me. And Isa.
I didn’t want to mess this up because I couldn’t control my curiosity, but I wasn’t sure how to feel about being deliberately left out of whatever was going on.
When their conversation ended, Griffin walked me around the shop floor and shared a little about how he’d become part owner and manager.
I appreciated how he downplayed his reputation for rebuilding, modifying, and completely transforming vehicles with unmatched precision.
Something our investigator had unearthed, but Griffin didn’t mention.
“Do you get stuck in the office a lot?” I tilted my head toward the window looking over the shop floor. “It’d be a shame to let your skills go to waste.”
“Nah, Jet does his fair share of paperwork as my assistant manager.”
Almost as though he heard Griffin say his name, the guy walked over to us.
“Wanted to go over our current deadlines.” His gaze shifted to me, and he tilted his chin in greeting. “Hey, I’m Jet.”
“Hi, I’m Hannah.”
“I know, and this must be Isa. Damn, Clara was right about her looking like Cross.” Before I could reply, he quickly returned to business mode. “You got a second to go over the current jobs?”
“Yeah.” Griffin guided him over to the motorcycle on our left, where they talked for a few minutes.
Isa started to fuss a little, so I only caught bits and pieces of their quick conversation while I soothed her. I heard something about shifting responsibilities. Then Griffin said, “You got things for now? I won’t be around as much until things are handled.”
This big, tough biker was rearranging his life to make room for Isa. And me.
The logical side of me whispered that I barely knew this man, and MC life was grittier than anything I’d ever touched. It could drag up old memories from my own childhood, the instability and fear I’d worked so hard to escape. But those worries dissolved almost as quickly as they rose.
The president of the Hounds had made sure Isa had everything she could possibly need at Griffin’s house. Jet stepped up to make sure things were covered here. Even when Griffin had every reason to think Rea had lied about him, he hadn’t hesitated to take care of Isa.
These men had proved to be loyal. Protective of Isa. And for some reason, it felt like that protection was starting to extend to me too.
We took Isa back to Griffin’s office, and I blinked at the setup. The same baby swing from his house was already in the corner, a baby monitor was on the desk, and there was even an air purifier humming softly.
When I arched a brow, he just shrugged. “Prospects earn their patch. Money talks when you need shit fast.”
He said it without any arrogance, making me shake my head with a soft laugh.
We fed Isa, got her settled for a nap in her carrier, then Griffin grabbed the monitor. “Follow me.”
He led me out to one of the bays where a beautiful vintage bike sat half-restored.
The second he stepped up to it, something in him eased.
He was still focused, but there was a relaxed confidence here that I hadn’t seen before.
It deepened the pull I felt toward him, like I was getting a new layer of the man beneath the cut.
He talked while he worked.
“My parents are awesome, and we’re really close.
” He had a smile on his face when he talked about them.
Then he continued, quietly sharing what it was like to grow up in a wealthy family with a twin who rebelled against the discipline their parents tried to instill in them.
“The trust funds our grandfather left us were supposed to be a safety net. Our parents never touched theirs until after they’d built their own success.
But Gavin is a lazy, entitled jackass who lives off his. ”
I shook my head. “That’s not the kind of father I want for her.”
“Gavin avoiding all responsibility is a damn good thing in this case because it’s not his name on the birth certificate. It’s mine,” he pointed out.
“Yeah.” I was filled with a sense of wonder over how lucky Isa was that Rea hadn’t known the truth.
I rarely shared my childhood with anyone, but it felt like he’d earned that much from me.
“I’ve known that I wanted to be a caseworker for a long time.
It’s why I’m only twenty-four but already have my master’s degree and two years with CPS.
My parents weren’t abusive in any obvious way, not like what I’ve seen happen with some of my cases.
But I never knew what each day would be like, and it left me feeling unsafe. ”
I shared a few examples but stopped when I noticed how his jaw had tightened.
“You’re amazing, Hannah.”
Heat flooded my cheeks at the unexpected compliment. Before I could respond, he held out his hand. “Come here.”
When I stepped in front of him, he turned me gently and pulled my back against his chest, his arms coming around me to show me how to adjust a bolt on the bike.
I appreciated the distraction, but that might’ve also had something to do with being surrounded completely by his big body.
My skin sizzled everywhere we touched, and my panties were damp.
But I knew I wasn’t alone in my desire because I could feel the hard length of him pressing insistently against my lower back.
He lowered his head, his nose brushing my neck as he inhaled. “Fuck, you smell amazing.”
“That’s your body wash.”
He pressed a kiss on the sensitive spot beneath my ear. “Can’t stop thinking about how you felt under my hands this morning.”
I trembled, my sensual need growing so strong that my knees felt weak. Just when I thought I might beg him to keep going, the monitor crackled with Isa’s soft coo, and he stepped back.
Griffin jerked his chin toward the office. “Let’s get our girl.”
We packed her up, stopped for dinner on the way home, and spent the rest of the evening doing the most ordinary things.
But I had the best time eating together, playing with Isa on the floor, and acting like a real family.
When it was time for bed, I fed and rocked her while he stood in the doorway watching us.
Once Isa was down, he held out his hand again.
This was a pivotal moment. I could feel it in my bones.
Going with instinct, I stopped over-analyzing and simply put my hand in his.