The Biker Needs A Nanny (Thirteen Bikers for Christmas)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Grace—

It’s Saturday morning, yet I’m up at six like clockwork. It’s nice with the house quiet, so I pour myself a cup of coffee and walk to the dock. The bay is as still as glass, the only sound that of a seagull flying overhead, heading toward the gulf to feed. I sip my coffee on the pretty wicker set of outdoor furniture arranged under the roof. It’s like a little gazebo at the end of the dock. In front of the structure is a large deck, double the width of the dock with no covering. On it sit two wooden lounge chairs. It would be the perfect place to get sun if it were warmer.

When my cup is empty, I return to the kitchen and dig out the waffle iron I spotted the other day. When I was in town, I stopped at the grocery store and got toppings for Belgian waffles. I’ve got fresh cut strawberries, whipped cream, and chocolate chips, as well as the usual whipped butter and maple syrup.

While I’m at it, I fry some bacon. It's not long before the aroma of hot waffles and bacon brings Lucky and his girls downstairs.

“You did all this?” he asks, staring at the dining room table laden with food. He scratches his bare chest and yawns.

“Waffles!” Ella and Poppy both shout.

“It’s Saturday. I think you deserve something more than a cold bowl of cereal or a protein shake, don’t you?”

He doesn’t say anything but takes his seat.

Not long after their second helping, Lucky leans back in his chair. “Go get dressed, angels. I’m taking you shopping for a present for Grandma and Grandpa.”

That gets a round of cheers, and they scamper upstairs.

“Are they coming for Christmas?” I ask.

“My parents? No, but they’ll take the girls for a long weekend the day after they get out of school.”

“Oh.”

“You’re welcome to join us, but I didn’t know if you wanted a break.”

“A break sounds nice, and I’m sure this is something they’ll enjoy doing with you.”

“I don’t know. They seem to like being around you just fine.”

The jealousy is evident in his tone.

“Lucky, that doesn’t mean they don’t want to spend time with you. You’re their father.”

I stand and clear the table, then wash dishes.

The girls clamber down the stairs.

“We’re heading out. You need anything?” Lucky asks from the doorway.

“Nope. Have fun.”

After the truck pulls out and the dishwasher is loaded, I grab another cup of coffee and check the decorations at the front of the house. I think I need another string of lights.

I’m on the porch when I hear footsteps on the crushed shell drive and turn.

The woman who gave me the lead on the job walks up with a little toy poodle on a leash. She waves. “Hello, neighbor.”

I give her a big smile. “Hello. How are you?”

“I was just out walking Cinnamon and saw you on the porch.” She stops and puts her hands on her hips. “My goodness, what a beautiful job you’ve done. I haven’t seen lights and decorations on this house in years.”

She extends her hand. “I’m Mildred Warrington, by the way. I don’t think we ever exchanged names.”

“Grace Reed. Thank you again for telling me about this job. It’s really been a lifesaver for me.”

She winks. “Is it working out well, then?”

“So far, I suppose. Mr. Hartwell is a little hard to deal with, but the girls are lovely.”

She again studies the house.

“You’ve really made some changes, my dear.” She nods. “Yes, indeed. Why, I haven’t seen this place so done up since before Melanie passed away.”

“Is that his wife? Melanie?”

“He hasn’t told you?”

“No. He’s very… closed off.”

“Well, how about you invite me up on the porch, and I’ll sit a spell and tell you all about it?”

“Oh, I’d love the company. Would you like a cup of coffee? Would you like to come inside?”

“I’d better keep Cinnamon outside, but I will take you up on that coffee.”

Ten minutes later, we’re both sipping coffee, and Cinnamon is curled at Mildred’s feet.

“You see, dear, Melanie died after a long battle with ovarian cancer. She fought hard, and that man of hers was by her side for every minute of it. I’ve never seen such devotion.”

“How sad. He must have loved her very much.”

“Very much, indeed. I know he rides a motorcycle in that club of his, and maybe he’s no saint because of it, but I’ve never seen a man love a woman like he loved his Melanie. I don’t think he’s been the same since she passed. I think it nearly destroyed him.”

“He hates these decorations. He seems to hate everything about Christmas.”

“She passed on Christmas day.”

“Oh, my goodness. I had no idea.”

“Albert—my husband—and I were out on our back deck that afternoon, taking in a little sun, when all of a sudden, we saw him stalk to the end of his dock and wail and scream at God. It was heartbreaking.”

“Oh, no.” I cover my lips with my hand.

“We both knew right away what had happened. That sweet woman held on for her girls. She wanted them to have Christmas morning. It took everything out of her to hang on that long. She was in so much pain at the end.”

“How terrible.”

“It was cold the day they buried her. The casket was covered in roses. All those bikers were there, of course, but to see Lucky with his two girls, trying to comfort them when it was obvious he was devastated as well… It was tragic.”

“I didn’t know any of this,” I whisper.

“Well, dear, now you know.” Mildred touches my arm. “Maybe you can forgive him for all the bluster he throws around. It’s just the pain coming through.”

“I suppose so.”

“And now you’re here, and things will get better. Time heals. Perhaps you’ll give him back his smile.”

“I don’t know about that. I seem to get on his nerves.”

“You? Pssh. Nonsense. You’re a beautiful woman. If anything, he’s probably attracted to you and doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

I don’t believe that, but I don’t comment on it. “There’s something else I’ve been wondering about. This is a really nice house. Not the kind of place I’d expect a man like him to own,” I muse.

“Oh, this was John and Elizabeth’s place—Melanie’s parents. They died in a tragic car accident when Melanie was pregnant with Ella. She was an only child and inherited the house in the will. And then when Melanie died, it passed to Lucky. He could get a fortune if he sold it, but it’s the only home his daughters have ever known. I don’t think he’ll move them from here.”

“Well, that explains a lot. It just seemed so at odds from the man he is.”

“I suppose, but I’ll tell you this. He’s been a good neighbor. When Albert couldn’t get our car to start, Lucky came over and fixed it. He wouldn’t even accept money when we tried to pay him. Yes, sir, a girl could do worse than a man who’s kind to the elderly.”

I smile.

She cocks her head at the decorations again. “You know, you have quite the knack for all this. I’m having a Christmas party in a few weeks. Perhaps I could pay you to do up the front of my house for it. How does four hundred dollars sound? And, of course, any décor items you need to do up a nice design.”

My mouth parts. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. I think you’ve got real talent. Do you think you could do it in a day? Perhaps if you have a day off, we could work something out.”

“I’d love to do it.” I pause. “I, um, should probably okay it with Lucky.”

“Of course.” She stands. “Well, I need to get home. Maybe you could talk to him before next weekend, and we can get a plan.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Come along, Cinnamon. It was lovely visiting with you, Grace.”

“You, too, Mildred. Goodbye.”

She pauses and turns. “Did he tell you about the boat parade?”

“Boat parade? No, ma’am.”

“It’s on December fourteenth just after dark. The boats are all lit up. They go right past our docks. You should watch it. I’m sure the girls would love it.”

“Thank you. I’m sure they would.”

After she leaves, I head inside.

It’s almost five when Lucky and the girls return from their shopping trip. I’ve got a pot of chili simmering on the stove, and a pan of hot cornbread warming in the oven. Everything I know about cooking comes from when I cared for my foster sisters and brothers. I love reading cook books and watching cooking shows, and I’ve picked up some skills along the way.

For me, food is a way to make people happy.

I hear them troop in the door.

Lucky stops at the entrance to the kitchen and looks around.

“Where are the cookies?”

“What cookies?”

“It smells like cookies.”

“Oh, that’s the candle I lit in the entryway.”

“So, you made it smell like cookies?”

“Yes.”

“But there are no cookies?”

“Right.”

“What kind of sadistic hell is this?”

“I’ll bake you some cookies.”

“Forget it.” He stalks out. Then stalks back into the entryway, blows out the candle, and glares at me.

He disappears upstairs, and my eyes fall to the girls.

“Daddy’s a little grumpy,” Ella says.

“Why is that?”

“Because all the stores had holiday decorations and crowds. He said he hates Christmas,” she replies.

“Does Daddy really hate Christmas?” Poppy asks. “That would make him the Grinch.”

“I think he just gets sad sometimes without your mom here.”

“Oh,” Ella says. “I didn’t think of that.”

“How do we make him happy again?” Poppy asks.

I stroke her hair from her face. “Just be extra nice to him, I guess.”

Ella’s eyes widen. “Maybe you could bake him cookies for real?”

“What’s his favorite?” I ask.

“Gingersnaps. But I think they’re gross.” Ella makes a face.

“Well, I’ll see if I can find a recipe tomorrow. Did you find a gift for your grandma and grandpa?”

Ella lifts the bag onto the dining table and pulls out a box.

“We got this thing where we can call and talk to them any time we want, and we can see them on video. They’ll have one at their house, and we’ll have one at our house. Daddy said they’d like that if he can teach them how to use it.”

“That sounds like an awesome gift. I’m sure they’re going to love it.”

Ella slumps and leans her chin on her hand. “I guess.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I wanted to make them something.”

“You still can. Did you want to draw them a picture? Or you could give them something with both your handprints on it.”

She perks up. “Like the Santa sign we made?”

“Sure. You can think about what you want to give them, and I can help you with the handprints.” I put my arm around her shoulders. “It’s almost dinnertime. You and Poppy run upstairs and wash your hands.”

A few minutes later, I’m bent over the open oven, pulling the pan of cornbread out, and turn and find Lucky standing there.

“Oh, Christ. You scared the crap out of me.” I grab my chest and almost drop the pan.

“Sorry.” He moves closer and lifts the lid.

“I made chili.”

“I see that.”

“I made it mild for the girls. I thought you could add extra red pepper to yours if you want it hotter.”

He just stares at me, causing me to second guess myself.

“Will they eat chili? Maybe I should make them some mac and cheese.”

“Probably. They don’t like a bunch of foods all mixed together. Ella will tell you it’s gross.”

“Oh.” My shoulders slump. “Okay. Two mac and cheese orders coming right up.” I step to the pantry and grab two of the microwave kind he’s got plenty of stock in. “How about the cornbread? Will they eat that?”

“Sure.”

“My recipe is more on the sweet side… like a corn muffin. I find it’s not as crumbly.”

“Then they’ll definitely love it.”

“I usually smother it in butter. Some people like honey. What do you and the girls do?”

“Butter, definitely.”

I get down some bowls and a basket for the bread. I line it with a paper towel and then cut the cornbread in squares. My hand is shaking.

“You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” He unsettles me… the way he’s watching me. I paste on a bright smile. “Why don’t you handle drinks?”

“I’ve got to go to the clubhouse after dinner. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”

Good to his word, the minute we’re finished with our meal, he can’t get out the door fast enough. I have to wonder if he’s avoiding me or the decorations. Oh, well. The girls and I can finally decorate that sad little tree I pulled out of the bag the other night. I assembled it, trying to have high hopes, but it’s really seen its better days.

I hear his motorcycle rumble off into the distance, then smile at my little charges. “Girls, let’s decorate the tree!”

Their eyes get big.

“Come on, I set it up last night in the family room. I bet we can even find a Christmas movie to watch.

“This is going to be the best night ever,” Ella says, throwing her hands in the air.