She looked up at me with those hazel eyes, tears pooling in her depths.
“Aw, honey. Aren’t you sleepy?” I didn’t expect an answer, but my heart broke for the little girl. It was clear that something was troubling her. “How about another story, but you have to lie down and relax, okay?”
She nodded, Hoppy clutched to her chest as I began to read story number two. Her body started to relax, and I could feel her fall asleep.
Suddenly, she woke up. Her hand shot out, gripping me tight and her eyes were wide with fear.
“Did you have a bad dream?” I asked and wrapped an arm around her as I began to read story number three. Slowly herbody grew heavier against mine and her breathing evened out until her body finally gave in to the need to sleep.
I gently closed the book and exhaled, closing my eyes.
“Bedtime is eight,” came Sledge’s deep voice from the doorway.
I turned. Sledge leaned against the frame, arms folded, glare firmly in place. His tone was sharp enough to cut glass. “It’s eight-thirty.”
I clenched my jaw, biting back the first smart-ass comment that came to mind. “She was upset and the stories calmed her.” I stood and slid the book back into the small bookcase. “I wasn’t going to just leave her alone in order to adhere to an arbitrary rule.”
His nostrils flared at the word arbitrary. “The rule is eight.”
“The rule,” I said slowly, keeping my voice even, “is stupid if it doesn’t fit Zoya’s needs.”
His jaw tightened. “My house. My rules.”
I’d heard those words plenty of times growing up. It was as infuriating to hear today as it was back then. “So you want me to toss her in bed at eight on the dot no matter how she’s feeling? Let her cry herself to sleep after she has a nightmare?” I pulled the blanket up to cover Zoya, brushing the back of my hand across her cheek.
Sledge stood tall blocking the doorway, massive arms folded across his chest as I made my way to him. The air between us was charged and heated, so heavy it was like its own living,breathing thing. His gaze pierced my own, his expression hard and unyielding.
He was big and tough, but I wasn’t scared of him, not in the way he probably wanted. The space felt smaller with his big body filling it, but it wasn’t intimidating. If anything it made me incredibly aware of him, his scent and his masculinity. He wasn’t a classically handsome man, he was too rough and too hard for that, but with the scar along his cheek therewassomething magnetic about him. Something that made it hard to look away. Whatever it was, I was drawn to it, even knowing that it was dangerous. And real.
He stepped to the side, letting me leave while he went in to kiss Zoya’s head. He turned to me and left the bedroom, saying nothing until we stood facing each other in the kitchen.
“Do you know what she was upset about?”
I shook my head, pulling the leftover dinner from the oven and shoving it in his direction. “No,” I shook my head. “She didn’t give any indication, but…” I stopped and shook my head as if that would shake away the thoughts I was having.
“But?” He accepted the fork I handed him, still waiting for me to continue.
“The last couple of nights she asked me to stay in her room and read to her while she fell asleep, but tonight was different, she seemed really unsettled. She fell asleep briefly but woke up suddenly like she was afraid of something.” I looked at him, his ever-present scowl was there but it wasn’t directed at me. He was clearly concerned about his little girl. “It could be all the changes in her life. A new nanny. A new routine. It could be anything, including whatever it was that caused this in the first place.”
Worry was etched into his face like stone.
“The good news is that the stories, and I think holding her, helped.”
Sledge nodded. “Fuck.”
That one word said it all and I felt the rest of the fight drain out of me. “Look, I know you have rules, and I amnottrying to step on your authority. But Zoya’s not a soldier in bootcamp, Sledge. She is a little girl who’s trying to find her voice again.”
He said nothing. Just looked at me with that intense stare that felt like it was trying to strip me bare. He held that stare for a long time, trying to unsettle me or figure me out. Finally, he crossed his arms and pulled his lips into a thin, disapproving line. “You done lecturing me?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I am.” Then added, “For now.”
His lips twitched, almost as if he found me amusing. Almost, but not quite. “Okay,” he finally said and turned away.
I gave him a salute he couldn’t see. “Yes, Drill Sergeant! Eight sharp, lights out.”
He stopped mid-step and looked over his shoulder, another ghost of a smile transformed his rugged features and his eyes twinkled. “You think you’re funny.”
It wasn’t a question. “I know I am. Ask anyone.” I folded my arms and notched my chin in the air. It probably wasn’t wise to poke the big, bad biker, but it was too fun to give a damn.
