There’re some cute B&Bs in town and cabins to rent, and plenty of people rent out spare rooms in their houses, but I’m not going to tell this beauty that.
“You’re not putting me out. You need a room, and I have one. Come on.”
I head for the door, and she hesitates. “I’m not gonna harm you. Ask Hank here. Am I a decent man, Hank?”
Hank nods. “So decent I never see him in here.”
The woman stares at me for a long time making her decision. I like her eyes on me and I guess I measure up, because she finally nods.
“I hope I don’t regret this,” she mutters as we head out of the bar.
I hope she doesn’t regret this either. But there’s no way I’m letting her stay anywhere other than my place. I want to keep her close to me. I want to get to know her, to know all her secrets.
I live in a cabin not far from the small town of Wild. It’s halfway between my barbershop in town and the Wild Riders HQ which is further up the mountain. The two places I spend most of my time.
We ride to my place, and I pull the bike up and park it alongside the sensible Kia I bought when I realized I had a daughter.
The woman takes in the baby seat in the back and the wooden slide set out in front of the house.
“How old’s your daughter?”
The mention of Bailey makes me smile. “My little girl’s sixteen months old.”
“Is, um, her mom okay with me staying here?”
There’s uncertainty in her voice, and I’m pleased to detect a note of jealousy.
“Her mom’s not around,” is the simple answer I give her.
I only knew Karen for a weekend when I was on military leave. Being sent to war made me wild and reckless. It was a way to hide my fear that I might never come back, to spend my leave losing myself in drink and a woman.
When you don’t know if the next time you’ll be on American soil it will be in a body bag, you live every moment like it’s your last. At least I did for a time.
It was only when Karen passed away in an accident four months ago that I found out Bailey existed. A paternity test proved what Karen had put on the birth certificate.
I hardly knew her mother apart from one wild weekend, but my daughter is my life. In four short months, she’s taken over my heart.
I’ve not looked at a woman since I became a dad, but now that there’s one before me, it feels different. I’m not looking for a cheap thrill anymore. I want to build a family for Bailey. If I get involved with anyone now, it will be for the long term.
But I don’t tell the woman in front of me any of that as I let her into my house.
The living room is cluttered with baby gear. Bailey’s colorful play mat is on the carpet littered with wooden toys and her favorite books, the corners worn from where she likes to suck on them. No matter how many chew toys I’ve bought her, she prefers the edges of books for some reason.
The woman looks around the space, taking it all in, and I wonder if she’s having second thoughts.
“Don’t worry, she’s a good sleeper,” I say. “Sleeps right through the night now.”
She didn’t when I first brought her home.
I drove to Huntington in West Virginia once I knew Bailey existed and collected her from the foster family she’d been staying with since Karen’s accident. I spent a week staying in Huntington getting Bailey used to me and learning everything I could about looking after a baby from the kind foster parents before bundling her into the car and taking her home.
The poor thing must have missed her mom, and for the first two months she slept in the room with me. It’s been a slow process getting her comfortable enough to sleep on her own. But finally I moved her into her own room down the hall.
I move around the living room picking up baby toys and doing a quick tidy up. I didn’t expect company, and it’s amazing how quickly the house gets cluttered when you’ve got a daughter who’s just started walking.
The woman dumps her bags by the couch and squints at a photo on the wall. It’s me and Bailey. She’s smiling at the camera and holding out a tubby fist.
The woman startles and steps closer to examine the photo.
