Chapter 1
GRANT
The wind whips at my beard and the sun warms my face as I ride down Sycamore Avenue, the main street in Hope. It’s been a long time since I got out for a decent ride on my bike, and this afternoon has felt like freedom.
I stopped by to visit my old military buddy, Dylon, who lives on this side of the mountain, and he sent me home with a bag full of baby clothes that his little girl, Cleo, has grown out of.
My own daughter is at the Wild Riders MC clubhouse, where she spends three days a week in the care of the women there while I work.
But today I shut up shop and took my bike out for a solo ride.
It’s the first time since my daughter, Bailey, arrived in my life three months ago that I’ve gotten out for a decent ride. I’ve enjoyed being on the road, but my chest hurts when I think about Bailey. I miss her.
There’s a parking lot by the river on the outskirts of town, and I pull over and slide my phone out of my pocket. It’ll be the last good place to stop before I take the mountain road over to Wild.
There’s a missed call, and I grimace when I see it’s from April.
I’ve never met the woman, but just seeing her name on my phone gives me a headache. It’s probably another message explaining why she’d be better off with custody of her niece than me, the father.
The aunt wasn’t around when Bailey’s mother passed, and I got custody. I have no idea why April thinks she has a hope in hell now of claiming my daughter.
I delete the message without listening to it and push the thought of the persistent aunt out of my mind.
There’s no message from Danni, who’s minding Bailey, and I send her a quick text.
She replies instantly.
She’s fine, Snips, same as she was half an hour ago.
I’m half relieved and half disappointed that my daughter is fine without me. I pocket the phone and am about to pull out onto the road that leads out of town and to the other side of the mountain when a thick, tanned leg catches my eye.
A woman leans against one of the large boulders by the river. Her shorts ride up, revealing her thick thighs. My eye travels up her legs to her wide waist and the lines of her breasts pushed against the black blouse with a large rose print that she’s wearing.
My mouth goes dry at the sight of her. She’s gorgeous.
Long dark hair falls over her shoulders and frames her heart-shaped face. Her lips are pink and plump, her cheekbones round like two rosy apples. I can’t see the color of her eyes from this distance, but there are dark smudges under them and a crease on her brow.
Gorgeous but troubled.
She’s breathing hard like she’s just sat down after exertion and her chest rises and falls dramatically, each breath causing her breasts to push outward so that her cleavage expands enticingly.
My breath catches in my chest as I forget to breathe, and my phone slips out of my hand.
“Shit,” I mutter as I fumble to catch it before it hits the gravel.
When I look up the woman has arched her back, rubbing the base of her spine with her face set in a grimace. She looks like she’s in pain.
I roll my bike over to where she is, and her eyes follow me warily. They’re hazel, and as her gaze sweeps over my body, I feel the heat of it. My skin prickles, and it’s lucky I’m straddling a bike or she’d see me harden through my leathers.
She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, and for a moment I can’t speak. We look at each other, and I swear energy crackles in the air between us. My hearing goes muffled, my skin prickles, and a surge of energy races through my veins.
I have the distinct feeling that this is a life-changing moment. My life will be divided into the days before I saw this woman and the days after.
Mine.
The word springs into my head and settles into my heart. This woman is mine, whoever she is. She’s my future, my everything…
“Can I help you?”
I’m brought down to earth by her suspicious tone.
The woman crosses her arms across her chest and glances around us. I don’t blame her. I’m a hairy bastard on a huge Harley with an MC patch on my leather jacket, and I’ve been staring at her, dumbstruck, for the last minute.
I hold my hands up in the universal gesture showing her that I mean no harm.
“I’m Snips.” I don’t realize I’ve given her my road name until her eyes narrow suspiciously. “I mean Grant. I’m Grant.”
I’m fumbling like a damn fool, but this woman has got my tongue tied all up in knots.
“Which is it, Snips or Grant?” There’s a smile in her eyes, but she’s still wary.
“Both. Snips is my road name, but you can call me Grant.”
She doesn’t offer her name, but she seems to relax a little. She rubs her lower back, and I’m reminded of why I came over in the first place.
“You look like you’re in pain. Do you need help?”
She shakes her head. “It’s an old injury. It acts up sometimes, that’s all.”
She arches her back in a stretch that pushes her chest out. My gaze dips to her breasts, straining against her blouse so hard that the top button is about to pop undone. What I wouldn’t give to rip that button open…
“Do you know if there’s a bus to Wild?”
My attention snaps back to her face, and she’s looking at me pointedly. I’m totally busted staring at her chest, but when her breasts are so luscious, it’s hard not to.
My gaze settles on her eyes, which are flecked with golden amber.
“Umm…” Jesus, I’ve never stuttered in my life, but this girl has me behaving like a teenager with a crush, not a fully grown man.
I clear my throat, trying to regain control of myself.
“There’s a bus twice a day at ten and two.”
She glances at her phone and swears under her breath.
“I knew I shouldn’t have stopped at Babyland.”
She’s got a branded shopping bag by her side and a small backpack leaning against the boulder. If I squeezed everything up, I could just fit it in my saddle bag.
“I’m going to Wild; I’ll give you a lift.”
She eyes me skeptically, but I detect curiosity behind the barrier she’s put up. I don’t blame her for holding back. I’m a stranger on a bike. I wouldn’t accept a lift from me either. But if she’s going to Wild and I’m going to Wild… it seems like fate to me.
I slide off my bike and open my saddle bag.
“I’ve got room in here for your things.”
I pull out the plastic bag of baby clothes that Dylon gave me, and a pink dress falls in the gravel.
“I’ll refold these so there’s more room.”
“You’ve got a little girl?” She eyes the pink dress with curiosity.
“It’s too small to be mine,” I say.
She smiles for the first time, and I catch my breath. If I thought she was beautiful before, she’s stunning when she smiles. For a brief moment, the suspicion and the wariness fall away, and she’s radiant. Youthful and carefree.
But it’s gone in a moment.
“They’re my daughter’s.”
The fact that I’ve got a kid seems to relax her, and I get it. I’m not a weird stranger anymore. I’m a dad, and I must be responsible.
“If it makes you feel any better, take a picture of me and the bike and send it to someone so they know who you got a lift with.”
The smile drops off her face.
“I don’t have anyone to send it to,” she mutters as she pockets her phone.
Sadness flashes across her features, and then it’s replaced by the wariness.
I want to smooth her brow, find out what’s got her so down and then fix it. And most of all, I want to make her smile again.