Page 9 of The Biker and the Single Mom

Especially because it did.

CHAPTER 3

DOC

Rory Lane stood in my kitchen making coffee in one of my t-shirts, her hair still damp from the shower.

Day four, and I was dying by inches.

Not from PTSD or nightmares or the shaking hands that plagued me in the dark. From this—her bare legs, the way the cotton clung to curves she tried to hide, the smell of my soap on her skin because she'd used my shower.

"Good morning," she said, smiling like she hadn't just walked through my apartment wearing nothing but my shirt and sunshine.

"Morning." I grabbed my own mug, needing something to do with my hands before I did something reckless like pull her against me and find out if her mouth was as soft as it looked.

Four days of this. Four days of her scent on my sheets, her laugh in my space, her daughter treating me like I was something other than broken.

"Doc!" Luna barreled into the kitchen, Mr. Hops dangling from one hand. "Mr. Hops is sick. He needs a checkup!"

I crouched down to her level, accepting the worn stuffed bunny with the seriousness it deserved. "What seems to be the problem?"

"His ear hurts. And his tummy." Luna pointed to various parts of Mr. Hops' anatomy. "Can you fix him?"

"Let me see." I examined the bunny with the same care I'd use on a real patient, aware of Rory watching from the counter. "Hmm. Looks like he needs medicine and lots of rest."

"What kind of medicine?"

"Hugs. And maybe some pancakes for his human."

Luna giggled, throwing her arms around my neck. "You're the best doctor ever!"

The trust in that hug nearly broke me. This kid who'd been running from a cop who used his badge like a weapon, who flinched at raised voices, who'd probably seen too much in her four years—she trusted me completely.

I glanced up at Rory and found her watching us with tears in her eyes.

Fuck. I was in so deep I couldn't see daylight anymore.

"Pancakes coming up," I managed, standing and handing Mr. Hops back to Luna. "But first, you need to wash your hands."

Luna scampered off to the bathroom, leaving me alone with Rory in the kitchen that suddenly felt too small.

"You're good with her," Rory said quietly.

"She's easy to be good with."

"Still. Matt never—" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "Thank you. For everything."

"Stop thanking me."

"I can't." She moved closer, standing near enough that warmth radiated from her skin. "You've given us more than a safe place. You've given us...this. Normal. I forgot what normal felt like."

Normal. There was nothing normal about the way I wanted her. Nothing normal about how she'd invaded every corner of my life in four days and made me want things I had no right wanting.

She bent to pick up one of Luna's toys from the floor—a plastic cup Luna had been using for Mr. Hops' "water"—and the shirt rode up, exposing the curve of her ass and a strip of skin at her lower back.

I had to leave the room.

"I should go check inventory at the clinic," I said, my voice rougher than intended. Staying here was dangerous. Watching her in my kitchen making coffee in my shirt while her daughter played in the next room felt like a future I couldn't have.