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She smiled, relieved that her instincts were correct. “Are you the owner?” A customer approached the counter.
For a second, Trinity paused, almost looking around for the owner. Then she remembered it was her!
“I am,” she said with a hint of pride in her voice.
“I need a present for my sister-in-law’s birthday. She’s a huge book nerd. Could you help me?”
A few minutes later, Lucky slid off the barstool and pushed it back under the counter. He nodded toward her, and she lifted her hand in a small wave. She watched as he turned to leave, his stride confident, his back to her as if he carried the weight of the world yet knew exactly how to bear it.
Trinity stared at him for a moment longer. The conversation between her and the customer she was helping find a book was forgotten.
Damn.
She’d never noticed, but his backside was just as sexy as his front half.
CHAPTER 2
TRINITY
Early the next morning, as the hiss of the espresso machine sang in chorus with Trinity's steady breaths, she smiled to herself. They’d done four times the sales she had predicted yesterday. She knew it would slow down once Day & Night was no longer a shiny new toy in town, but for now, she’d bask in the success. The aroma of roasted beans mingled with the scent of new books that lined the shelves, dividing the space between the cafe and wine bar. Her hands moved with an artist's grace, crafting the latte as if it were a love letter to whoever would receive it. She was alone in the building and was enjoying the solitude.
A chime cut through the whirr of grinders and soft jazz playing in the background, signaling the arrival of a customer. Confused, knowing she hadn’t flipped the open sign yet, Trinity glanced up, her focused expression melting into one of excitement as Lucky sauntered in. The bell's toll seemed to vibrate through her, announcing the presence of raw masculinity that filled the doorway.
Lucky, the embodiment of rugged authority, stood there with the ease of a man who commanded attention without seeking it. His salt-and-pepper hair brushed back from a face that toldstories of hard-won battles, eyes that had seen things they could never unsee. There was a gravity to him, a pull as undeniable as the moon's dance with the tide. She felt drawn to him like the way opposing ends of a magnet couldn’t help but pull together.
The cafe air felt charged, thrumming with a current that only intensified as Lucky's gaze found hers. Trinity's pulse quickened, her skin prickling with a flush of heat that spread like wildfire. He was a tempest wrapped in leather and denim, each step toward her counter resonating within the hollows of her bones.
"Little Rabbit," he murmured, a term of endearment that held promises of protection and untold pleasures lurking beneath its surface. It wasn't just his title as president of The Watchmen Motorcycle Club or the fact that he was a retired Delta Force Operator that made him formidable. No, it was the way his full beard framed lips capable of issuing commands that compelled instant obedience, the way his eyes seemed to strip her down to her very soul, seeing the Little within her yearning to be guided and cherished.
Trinity's breath hitched, caught on the hook of that immediate, magnetic attraction. He was a force of nature, and she—caught in his storm—found herself wanting nothing more than to be swept away. The distance between them dwindled to mere feet, and with each of Lucky's purposeful strides, the beats of Trinity's heart played a crescendo into a frantic symphony. His intense gaze, as sharp as a blade yet filled with a fire that seemed to warm her from across the room, never wavered from hers.
“Americano, just like you made it yesterday,” his voice rumbled. It was a simple request laced with an authority that demanded compliance, not out of fear but respect—and something more primal. The words wrapped around her, sending shivers cascading down her spine as she imagined them whispered in a very different setting.
“One Lucky coming right up.” She turned away from him, busying herself with his order, hoping he wouldn’t see the blush on her cheeks and grateful for the apron hiding her hard nipples.
“Lucky?” he parroted.
“Yeah. I added the cinnamon infused Americano to the menu,” she told him.
“I’m honored to have a drink named after me,” he said simply. “Has Corky dropped off the burritos yet?”
Trinity nodded; her movements were automatic as she reached for the tray. “They are even still hot. He left about ten minutes ago.” Her fingers trembled slightly, betraying her composure. She unwrapped it and put it on a plate, pausing to set it in front of him before turning to the espresso machine. She poured the shot of dark liquid with precision, aware of Lucky's eyes tracking her every move, their weight pressing against her skin as if he touched her without laying a finger on her.
She dared a glance upwards and caught sight of the leather cut clinging to his broad shoulders, the emblem of the Spartan Watchmen Motorcycle Club emblazoned upon it—a symbol of brotherhood and strength. It spoke volumes of the man before her, of roads traveled and loyalty earned. A man who led others through sheer presence alone.
The rich aroma of a fresh shot of espresso filled the air, a grounding scent amidst the whirlwind of sensations threatening to unsteady her. As she placed the cup on the counter, her eyes locked with his once more. She wondered again what it would be like to submit to him—to yield to that commanding energy that promised to guide her to realms of undiscovered pleasure and protection. She submitted in roleplay inside of The Citadel, but they’d not moved forward outside of it, not yet anyway. Although, he texted her every morning and every night before bed.
“Anything else I can get for you?” she asked, her voice steadier than she felt, laden with an invitation she wasn't fully prepared to understand.
Lucky leaned forward ever so slightly, his eyes dark pools of intent. “An explanation, Little Rabbit,” he said, his hand brushing hers as he took the cup, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
“An explanation?” she echoed.
“I was worried about you when I didn’t hear from you last night or this morning. Care to tell me why you haven’t answered your text, Little Girl ?”
“Oh, crap!” She fished her phone out of her apron pocket. “It rang while I was talking to a customer yesterday and I put it on airplane mode. I was so exhausted when I left last night, I forgot to put the ringer back on.” She quickly switched airplane mode off. Her eyes widened as her notifications grew, man, she had a lot of missed text messages.
Daddy Lucky.
