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.”
