The Biker Needs A Nanny (Thirteen Bikers for Christmas)

CHAPTER FOUR

Grace—

When we return to the house, I carry in the shopping bag with the box my new cell phone and charger came in. The guy at the store set it up for me, and I’m excited to have a phone again, and I’m happy it’s a new number. I can really start fresh.

Lucky said he’d deduct the monthly increase to his plan, plus the monthly charge for the phone. It all comes to less than fifty dollars, and with what he’s paying me, I can afford it.

I can’t help smiling when I look at the pretty pink phone I chose.

Slipping it in my back pocket, I move into the kitchen to find the dinner plates. I get down four, grab silverware, and carry them into the dining room to set the table.

Lucky carries in the drive-thru chicken and all the fixings he picked up for tonight’s dinner.

He pauses in the archway when he notices me. “What are you doing?”

“Setting the table.”

“We don’t eat at the table.”

“Why not? You’ve got this beautiful room and this lovely dining table. Why wouldn’t you use it?”

“We just don’t.”

Poppy tugs on her father’s sleeve. “Can we use it tonight? It’s Grace’s first dinner with us. That’s special.”

He stares down at her, then gives me a murderous look like I’m to blame. I stand there, a plate in my hand, and wait.

“Please, Daddy?” Ella joins in the fight.

“Fine. Whatever. I just don’t see the point.” He stalks in with the bag of food, and I tap Ella’s arm.

“Honey, could you get us napkins?”

She nods, eager to help, and runs off.

I move to grab some serving spoons for the containers of mashed potatoes, gravy, and other sides, and soon I’ve got the girls’ dished up.

Lucky fills them each a glass of milk, then looks at me. “You want some sweet tea?”

“Sure,” I nod and take a seat.

Lucky follows shortly with a glass for each of us and takes his place at the head of the table.

“Daddy,” Ella says. “Can we say what they taught us at Grandma’s house?”

“What’s that, honey?”

She looks at Poppy and grins, and they both start together.

“Thank you for the world so sweet. Thank you for the food we eat. Thank you for the birds that sing. Thank you, Lord, for everything. Amen.”

I smile at them as they grin, so proud to have remembered the words, then I glance up to see Lucky looking uncomfortable.

He points his fork at their plates. “Good job. Now eat your food.”

His eyes shift to me, and he doesn’t seem happy. He seems like this is another thing I’m to blame for.

Well, I’m not going to let his grumpiness or his issues with eating at a table get in the way of enjoying this meal with these adorable girls.

I lift my glass of tea. “And I’m thankful to have such lovely little girls to share this meal with me.”

They both give me huge smiles. Ella turns to her father.

“I like her, Daddy.”

“Good, now eat your food.”

We eat in silence for a while, before I can bear it no more. “How was your day at school, Ella?”

“It was fine. We had art. I love art.” She looks at her dad, then back at me and covers her mouth like she’s sharing a secret. “We’re making something special for Christmas.”

“Oh, I see.” I turn to her sister. “And how about you, Poppy? How was your day?”

“Kevin shoved Mia on the playground. I told the teacher. He got in trouble. Mia’s my friend.”

“Well, it’s good to stand up for your friends,” I say.

“She should shove him back,” Lucky puts in. “That’ll teach him.”

“Daddy, then she would get in trouble, too,” Poppy whispers.

He points his fork at her. “Anyone ever shoves you, you shove them right back. Understand? You get in any trouble, I’ll come down to the school and tell ‘em off.”

“What does ‘tell them off’ mean?” Ella asks.

“Means I’ll stick up for you.”

“Daddy, we’re not supposed to fight,” Poppy says.

“It’s not fighting if you’re defending yourself.”

Poppy’s eyes shift to me, like she wants me to confirm this for her.

“Um,” I glance at Lucky. “Well, your father doesn’t want anyone pushing you around, and maybe your teacher won’t always be there. You shouldn’t be afraid to defend yourself, but you should probably try to find an adult first if you can.”

Lucky rolls his eyes.

I quickly change the subject. “So, when does Christmas vacation start?”

“In three weeks,” Ella says forlornly. “It’s taking forever to get here.”

“Did you write your letters to Santa yet?” I ask.

They both shake their heads.

I’ve noticed there are no Christmas decorations, not even a tree. Christmas is four weeks from today, and most people have decorations up by now. Maybe Lucky waits until the last minute.

After we finish eating, I clean the table and load the dishes into the dishwasher while Lucky gives the girls a bath.

They’re in their pajamas and getting into bed when I come upstairs.

Poppy holds up a book. “Could you read us this, Grace?”

Lucky steps back, and I take a seat next to her on the bed. Ella crawls into Poppy’s bed and cuddles to my other side.

I read them both a story about a lost duckling and the puppy who leads him home.

When I’m finished, Lucky tucks them in, and we leave the room.

“Grace?”

I stop in front of my door and turn. “Yes?”

“Reading them a bedtime story? That’s kind of my thing.”

“Sorry. They asked. I didn’t know.”

“Now you do.”

With that, he heads down the stairs without even a goodnight.

I open my door and close it quietly, then unpack my meager belongings into the dresser. When I’m done, I sit on the bed and play with my phone.

I look up the town of Stillwater and see all the Christmas activities the town does every year. There’s a Christmas festival with craft booths and a carnival, a parade, a toy drive, and a charity tree lot.

Biting my lip, I wonder if I’ll be able to have the Christmas I always dreamed about growing up. In this beautiful home, I’d love to give the girls that kind of Christmas.

I research some crafty outdoor decorations that the girls and I could make for the outside of the house, and come up with a list of ideas.

I’m at it for several hours, getting lost in the internet and social media until I hear a child crying and get up to check.

When I crack my door open, it’s just in time to see Lucky going into the girls’ room. He doesn’t see me, and I listen to their exchange.

“What’s wrong, Ella?” he whispers.

I hear the bed creak as he sits.

“I had a bad dream. I miss Mommy.”

“I do, too, angel.”

He starts humming a tune.

I step closer and peer through the crack, eavesdropping on how sweet he is with her, rocking her and singing to her.

My heart warms, and I step back, not wanting to ruin the moment. Returning to my room, I close the door quietly and crawl into bed.

Maybe there is a heart under all that ice.