Chapter 3
GRANT
There’s only one thing better than riding a bike on the mountain road, and that’s riding a bike on the mountain road with a gorgeous woman behind me.
The stranger is full of secrets. She hasn’t even told me her name, but the press of her body against mine as we swerve around the corners is all I need to know she’s mine. Her breasts brush up against my back, giving me a permanent hard-on.
I’m full of questions about who she is and why she’s here, but for now I’ll let her keep her secrets to herself. If I push her she might retreat, and I don’t want that.
We pull up outside Wild Times Hotel the sawmill is the main source of employment on this side of the mountain.
There aren’t a lot of women in town. But their attention makes my blood boil and I tighten my grip on her shoulder, letting them know she’s mine.
“Ow.” She gives me a sharp look. “You’re squeezing me too tight.”
But there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. She’s enjoying having my arm around her, and that makes me smile right back at her.
I loosen my grip, but only a little.
The woman scans the inside of the bar, and she can’t hide her displeasure.
“This is the hotel?”
“The rooms are upstairs.”
She squirms uncomfortably, and I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to stay in a place called Wild Times either.
“I’m not gonna let you stay here.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Not going to let me?”
“No. I wouldn’t let my worst enemy stay here on a good day and especially not a woman alone when half the guys from the lumber yard are in there getting smashed.”
“I can look after myself.”
She folds her arms across her body, and I wonder where she learned to be so defensive. I want to peel the layers back and get to the softness inside.
“I’m sure you can. But you don’t have to.”
Not when I’m here to look after her. But if I admit what I’m feeling, she’ll freak the fuck out.
A squat man with rosy red cheeks comes over to us.
“Hey Grant, what can I get you?”
“We’re not here to drink, Hank.”
“I’m looking for a room,” the woman cuts in quickly, giving me a pointed look. Well, she is determined. If she insists on staying in this shithole, I’ll just have to station myself outside the door all night.
Hank slides a lined notebook over from the desk and peers at the names written there. “You got a reservation?”
The woman’s face falls. “No, I didn’t think I’d need one.”
Hank shakes his head. “Sorry hon, we’re fully booked.”
I could kiss Hank right now, but I keep my expression neutral as I lean on the bar. Something sticky tugs at my jacket, and I straighten up. This place needs a good clean.
“I got a spare room at my place.”
The woman glances at me, her troubled eyes peeping out from under her bangs.
“Is there nowhere else?” Her face falls when she realizes what she’s just said. “I mean, it’s nice of you to offer, but you’ve already given me a lift. I can’t put you out.”
There’re some cute B&Bs in town and cabins to rent, and plenty of people rent out spare rooms in their houses, but I’m not going to tell this beauty that.
“You’re not putting me out. You need a room, and I have one. Come on.”
I head for the door, and she hesitates. “I’m not gonna harm you. Ask Hank here. Am I a decent man, Hank?”
Hank nods. “So decent I never see him in here.”
The woman stares at me for a long time making her decision. I like her eyes on me and I guess I measure up, because she finally nods.
“I hope I don’t regret this,” she mutters as we head out of the bar.
I hope she doesn’t regret this either. But there’s no way I’m letting her stay anywhere other than my place. I want to keep her close to me. I want to get to know her, to know all her secrets.
I live in a cabin not far from the small town of Wild. It’s halfway between my barbershop in town and the Wild Riders HQ which is further up the mountain. The two places I spend most of my time.
We ride to my place, and I pull the bike up and park it alongside the sensible Kia I bought when I realized I had a daughter.
The woman takes in the baby seat in the back and the wooden slide set out in front of the house.
“How old’s your daughter?”
The mention of Bailey makes me smile. “My little girl’s sixteen months old.”
“Is, um, her mom okay with me staying here?”
There’s uncertainty in her voice, and I’m pleased to detect a note of jealousy.
“Her mom’s not around,” is the simple answer I give her.
I only knew Karen for a weekend when I was on military leave. Being sent to war made me wild and reckless. It was a way to hide my fear that I might never come back, to spend my leave losing myself in drink and a woman.
When you don’t know if the next time you’ll be on American soil it will be in a body bag, you live every moment like it’s your last. At least I did for a time.
It was only when Karen passed away in an accident four months ago that I found out Bailey existed. A paternity test proved what Karen had put on the birth certificate.
I hardly knew her mother apart from one wild weekend, but my daughter is my life. In four short months, she’s taken over my heart.
I’ve not looked at a woman since I became a dad, but now that there’s one before me, it feels different. I’m not looking for a cheap thrill anymore. I want to build a family for Bailey. If I get involved with anyone now, it will be for the long term.
But I don’t tell the woman in front of me any of that as I let her into my house.
The living room is cluttered with baby gear. Bailey’s colorful play mat is on the carpet littered with wooden toys and her favorite books, the corners worn from where she likes to suck on them. No matter how many chew toys I’ve bought her, she prefers the edges of books for some reason.
The woman looks around the space, taking it all in, and I wonder if she’s having second thoughts.
“Don’t worry, she’s a good sleeper,” I say. “Sleeps right through the night now.”
She didn’t when I first brought her home.
I drove to Huntington in West Virginia once I knew Bailey existed and collected her from the foster family she’d been staying with since Karen’s accident.
I spent a week staying in Huntington getting Bailey used to me and learning everything I could about looking after a baby from the kind foster parents before bundling her into the car and taking her home.
The poor thing must have missed her mom, and for the first two months she slept in the room with me. It’s been a slow process getting her comfortable enough to sleep on her own. But finally I moved her into her own room down the hall.
I move around the living room picking up baby toys and doing a quick tidy up. I didn’t expect company, and it’s amazing how quickly the house gets cluttered when you’ve got a daughter who’s just started walking.
The woman dumps her bags by the couch and squints at a photo on the wall. It’s me and Bailey. She’s smiling at the camera and holding out a tubby fist.
The woman startles and steps closer to examine the photo.
“How old did you say your daughter was again?”
If I wasn’t so busy picking up stacking cups, I might have noticed the edge to her voice, but I don’t.
“Sixteen months.”
“And what’s her name?”
Her voice sounds choked, and it makes me glance up at her. The woman’s staring intently at the photo.
“Bailey.”
“Bailey.” The woman repeats the name in an odd tone.
I still don’t know her name. It was a fun game when we were strangers, but if she’s going to stay in my house, I need to know what to call her.
“And what was your name? You never told me.”
The woman turns slowly with an odd expression on her face that I can’t read. She pulls herself upright and stares me straight in the eye.
“April.”
My heart drops at the name, and realization hits us at the same time.
She’s April.
The strange, beautiful woman who’s making my tummy flip and my dick hard is April, Bailey’s lost aunt who’s trying to get custody of my daughter.
April is right here in my house.