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I look at a now pale-faced Florence and rasp, "There is something seriously wrong with a woman who puts down another one for just talking to a man, especially in front of an infant. Grow up, Flo. You're never going to get a biker."
She flinches at my words as I rush out of the bakery. I look up and down the street before I notice Olivia trying to get her daughter into a car seat in the back of an old Ford that looks like it has seen better days. April is crying, her hands flapping toward the bakery, making my heart do something funny in my chest.
I don't know why the little girl has latched onto me, but I'll fucking take it.
I rush over to them, April seeing me first, her glistening blue eyes brightening. I gently put my hand on Olivia's back, making her jump as I guide her away from the car seat and rasp, "Let me, Freckles." I gently clip the small girl in. She grins at me, her hand going to my lip ring again, making me grin. I very gently kiss her forehead. April closes her eyes and coos before I grab a little giraffe from the seat beside her and give it to her. I shut the door, and turn to see her momma looking real confused.
I cock my head to the side. "Are you alright, Freckles?"
She blinks and clears her throat. "Uh, yeah, I…uh…just. Damn, she's never done this before."
I grin. "It could be my deep forest scented body wash."
She snorts and shakes her head, her eyes going to Little Red. "Well, uh, thank you for that, and again, I'm real sorry about the shirt and the coffee. It surprised me when she grabbed you, and I tripped…I…"
I cut her off by cupping her cheek, making her freeze, her beautiful light blue eyes widening. I smile. "Go on a date with me." Her eyes grow as big as dinner plates, if that's possible, making me grin. "Just one date."
She blinks a few times. "I…I, uh, I have a kid."
I grin and nod. "I know, and she's fucking perfect."
Her eyes soften before her gaze scours my expression. "I have a lot of baggage; I'm sure you'd be better off with someone like Flo."
I snort, my hand cupping her cheek harder. "I'm sure that I want you. Come on, Livvy, one date."
She blinks a few times another new nickname before looking at her daughter.
I coax, "If she's latched onto me like that, then surely you have to see for yourself why."
Ok, that was a dick move using her kid, but still, I'd use anything for just one date to win this girl over. I know it works by the small nod she gives me, making my fucking day.
Fuck me—I think I've found my someones.
2
Olivia – 22 Years Old – Three Months Later
I rush around my cramped room, April's bed just fitting on the side wall near the door, her changing table, thankfully, fitting on top. My small dresser is now hers, too. I still live with my mom, unable to save for an apartment and my own bakery simultaneously, but she doesn't mind. She loves her granddaughter to pieces.
When I first told her I was pregnant, she asked when Phil and I would be getting married because it was the 'right thing to do,' which, in my eyes, was not. Not every pregnancy is intentional, which I told my mother. Phil’s parents kicked him out when he refused to marry me, and they didn’t change their minds when he admitted he was gay.
Mom soon changed her tune about marriage, was extremely supportive, and even let him stay here until he got his own place. She has been a rock for the both of us, and I don't know what I would have done without her.
I managed to finish high school and get my culinary degree all because of my amazing mother, while Phil only has three years left until he has his degree in architecture, again, all with the help and support of my mom.
The woman is a saint.
"Liv, I think Smokey is here."
I freeze mid-leg in my dark jeans at my mom's voice through the crack of my door. Crap, I'm not ready.
"Stall him, Mom," I shout back, her chuckle echoing through my door, making me shake my head.
When my darling little devil child clutched onto Jonny's cut, I thought I would be sick. I'd never met any men from the MC, but I’d met and made cakes for their mothers, who are lovely. I didn't know how the man would react to a baby grabbing hold of something they find sacred and the hot coffee I spilled all over his white shirt.
I thought he would blow up on me, but he didn't. Instead, he asked me out.
How did that even happen?
