The Biker Needs A Nanny (Thirteen Bikers for Christmas)

CHAPTER NINE

Grace—

Sunday morning, Lucky walks into the living room where the girls and I sit watching cartoons. He’s already dressed. The sheen of his leather cut gleams in the morning sun. I have to admit… he looks damn sexy. And dangerous.

My eyes drop to it. “Going somewhere?”

“I have some club business to handle. I’ll be gone all day, but I’m hoping to get back home by their bedtime.” He turns his attention to the girls, giving each one a kiss on the head. “Be good for Grace.”

“We will, Daddy,” Ella chimes.

I follow him to the front door. “Hey, before you leave, I wanted to check if it was okay if I took the girls to the Christmas market downtown. I didn’t want to overstep if that was something you wanted to do.”

He waves me off. “You go ahead. I have some cash in my side table drawer. Take it in case the girls see something they want or use it to buy lunch or whatever.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

Without another word, he trots down the stairs and fires up his bike.

“What are we gonna do today?” Ella asks, peering around me and watching her father’s motorcycle disappear.

“Well…” I close the door and lead her into the other room with her sister. “I thought we could go to the Christmas market. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Yay!” Poppy jumps up and down.

“Can we get hot chocolate, too?” Ella asks. “Mommy used to buy me hot chocolate.”

“We absolutely can.” I squeeze her shoulders.

When we arrive at the market, the area is lit with Christmas lights. They sparkle at us from every tree. Tents with different vendors line the sidewalks around the square. In the middle sits the town hall, a large white building with towering pillars, all decorated with Christmas wreaths and lights.

The vendors comprise artists selling paintings and sculptures, crafters selling different unique trinkets, wreaths, ornament stands, clothing, toys, and, of course, delicious drinks and baked treats.

The girls and I meander from one tent to the next, taking it all in.

We see little nativity scenes carved from wood and hand-knitted Christmas stockings.

“Hey, you need a stocking.” Ella turns to me.

“Oh, I guess I do.” I sift through the hanging stockings. “Which one do you think would be good for me?”

“Well, mine is the ballerina from the Nutcracker, and Poppy’s is Rudolph.” Ella seems to ponder, scrunching her mouth to the side and furrowing her brow.

“What does your dad’s stocking look like?”

“He has Santa,” Ella replies, still thinking.

“Yeah, but his Santa isn’t right,” Poppy chirps.

“Oh?”

“He’s got sunglasses, and he’s sitting on a motorcycle instead of a sleigh,” Poppy continues.

“Well, that’s because your dad likes riding motorcycles.”

“It’s still not right,” Poppy scoffs.

“How about this snowflake, then?” I hold up a beautiful snowflake design in white and silver sparkling thread.

“No,” both girls declare at once.

“Mommy’s was a snowflake,” Ella explains.

Poppy grins. “Daddy said she was as beautiful as one.”

“And he said she was one of a kind,” Ella adds.

“Well, then, I definitely can’t get this one.” My fingers drop from the stocking. “How about a gingerbread cookie?”

“Yes, yes!” Poppy screeches.

“That’s perfect. You cook all the time,” Ella agrees.

I grin at their reasoning and buy it.

We wander farther down the path until a glorious smell reaches my nose. “Mmm, that smells delicious.”

“What does?” Poppy looks around for the source.

“Coffee and cookies. I love a good Frappuccino.”

“And I love a good cookie,” Ella declares.

“Can we get some? Please?” Poppy begs.

“Sure. They might even have some hot chocolate.” I waggle my brows.

A few minutes later, we find a bench to sit on while we eat a pack of Christmas cookies. The girls got hot chocolate, and I decided Lucky could splurge and buy me a Frappuccino. I smile as the sugary sweetness touches my tongue.

“How are your cookies?” I ask the girls.

“So good,” Poppy says through a mouthful. The colored frosting now smeared across her face.

I laugh. “You girls are a mess. Let’s clean you up before we look some more.”

“Can we look for something for Daddy?” Ella asks.

“Of course. What do you think he might like?” I wipe both the girls’ faces with a paper napkin

“I don’t know.” Her head droops.

“I’m sure we can find something perfect.” I assure her and soon were off on the hunt for the perfect gift for my grumpy boss. Now if I only knew what you get the man who hates Christmas.

We look at ornaments, shadow boxes, candies, popcorn tins, and even argue over whether he’d like a singing fish before we find a lady who paints beautiful custom paintings.

“What about these?” Poppy points to a drawing of the back of a man walking with two boys beside him. Above it reads “The best boy dad.”

“I wonder if they have one for girls?” I ponder aloud while sifting through some paintings.

“We sure do,” a lady behind me comments. “I can even paint the girls to look like you two.” She gestures to the girls.

“What do you two think?” I wait for them to decide.

“Yes!” Poppy grins.

“I think it’s perfect,” Ella agrees.

“Great. What color hair does your daddy have?” the lady asks while leading them to the back of the tent where she has an easel set up.

“Brown,” says Ella.

“And he’s big like that guy.” Poppy points to a muscular man at a booth next to us.

The lady’s lips curl, and she nods.

Once she’s finished, there’s an image of a man holding the hands of two little girls that looks just like their little family from behind. She even writes each of the girls’ names below their images and, written on top, reads, Best Girl Dad .

“It’ll take it about an hour to dry,” the lady tells me when I pay for the painting.

“All right.” I turn to the girls. “How about we go get some lunch, and then we’ll come back to pick it up?”

After grabbing some hot sandwiches and returning to the painter, we decide to make a final stop in a cute little corner bookstore.

When we walk in, a bell jingles above the door. The smell of crisp paper and ink wafts through the air.

“Mmm, that smell and a Frappuccino. Two of my favorite things.”

“That drink did look good.” Ella nods.

We mosey down the aisles, taking in the different book sections and end cap displays, until we find ourselves in a small children's section. Pillows are scattered on the floor under a mural of a magical tree filled with forest creatures, fairies, gnomes, and dragons flying in the distance. The owners have added ornament stickers to the tree and a star on top. Little wrapped boxes with ribbons fill the floor at the foot of the tree, giving it the appearance of Christmas morning.

“Look, they have Christmas books!” Poppy squeals, running toward a display of Santa, elf, and reindeer books.

“Can we get one?” Ella asks, flipping through the beautifully illustrated pages.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the change I have left from the sixty-dollars I took from Lucky’s side table this morning. After our morning treats, lunch, and the gift we bought their dad, I’ve only got a few bucks left.

“I’m sorry girls, we can’t. But I can take you to the library, and we can get one,” I suggest, hoping it will ease the disappointment.

“The library? Like at school?” Poppy asks.

“Yes, but this one won’t be at school, and we can usually check out more books.”

“Can I get my very own library card?” Ella asks.

“Absolutely.”

Walking out of the shop, a dark green truck gives me pause. I do a double take, but there’s no one inside. A chill runs down my spine, but I try to shake it off. He doesn’t know where I am. Lots of people drive trucks; a green one can’t be that uncommon. But still, I pick up the pace until we are inside Lucky’s truck with the doors locked.

An hour later, Ella and Poppy gaze with big smiles at their library cards hanging from lanyards around their necks. Thankfully, my phone bill has Lucky’s address on it, so proof of address wasn’t too hard to pull up on my phone.

“Ready to look?” I ask their excited faces.

“Yes!” they chime together.

We find an entire display of holiday books, along with many standing on top of the shelves in the children’s section for easy locating. The girls each fill their arms with books.

“They said there is a limit of ten each,” I remind them.

“Ooh, then I can get two more.” Ella turns and hurries back down the aisles.

Poppy plops on the floor and starts counting her books. “I have eleven.”

“All right, you’ll have to put one back. You can get it next time, and I think we may need to bring a bag, too.”

After we check out, we head to the door but a wooden box full of lost and found items catches my eye. We’ve had some pretty chilly nights the last couple of days, and my few pieces of clothing don’t really have me prepared for winter.

The girls seem distracted, talking about their books, and I quickly grab a pale blue hat and scarf, shoving them into my cross-body purse. I can’t imagine anyone ever claiming it, but guilt fills me anyway.

“Where are we going now?” Poppy asks.

“We’ve had a busy day. Let’s go home, and I can start some lasagna.” It’s not a lie; it’s been a picture-perfect day.