Page 1 of Estranged Biker Daddy

CHAPTER ONE

Megan

"So, this will be the first time you've ever worked at a bakery?" asked Rebecca as she looked up at me from the paper in her hand. Giving her a gentle smile, I nodded in response.

"Professionally," I answered. "I actually graduated from culinary school after specializing in baked goods." She raced an eyebrow at me as she sat down my resume and folded her hands.

"I'm not going to lie," she said with a professional smile. "This is a pretty impressive resume. Why would you want to come work for a first-time business such as this?" Keeping my composure, I gave her the same well scripted answer I had prepared the entire time it had taken me to drive for the interview.

"Because my dream is to be a baker, and I would love to help you get your business off the ground," I informed her. "I understand that you opened this bakery before Thanksgiving. Being a local, I know how hard it can be to start a business out in a town like this. I want to help you build your reputation so your company can grow." She stared at the resume before her once again, seeming lost and thought as she considered my answer, and I had a really good feeling that I already knew what she was going to say.

I hadn't been lying when I said that I was a local. In fact, I had grown up in this small town in Colorado, and I knew everybody here. I had graduated from the local high school and gone off to culinary school up in Denver. After receiving my bachelor's degree in culinary arts with my specialty being bakery items, I had returned home and found that a new bakery had just opened in town. Seeing this as the perfect opportunity to grow my resume, I had immediately contacted them to apply for the job.

A lot of people in town were suspicious of the group of people Rebecca had shown up with this last Thanksgiving. There were all sorts of rumors flying around from them being a crime group on the run to them being a part of a witness protection program. I didn't care about the rumors. I just saw that a new company had come to our small town, and I was looking for a chance to stretch my wings.

"If I give you the position, you will only get two days off a week," Rebecca informed me when she finally looked back up from my resume. "Once again, you'll be working from open to close, which is eight hour shifts and I can only start you off at twenty dollars an hour. Does this sound fair to you?" A smile spread across my face as I nodded in response.

"It sounds more than fair," I agreed as I watched her carefully. "In fact, I would say it sounds like the perfect option." Returning my smile, Rebecca offered me her hand from across the table.

"Welcome aboard," she said as she shook my hand. "Do you think you'll be able to start on Monday?" Even though I already had the job, I didn't see any harm in being a bit of an overachiever. So, after considering my response to her question, I shrugged.

"If you wanted me to, I could even start tomorrow," I informed her. She considered this for a moment before shaking her head.

"There's no need for that," she reassured me. "I'll have you start first thing Monday morning." Seeing that she wasn't going to budge, I nodded in agreement and watched her rise to her feet.

"Sounds great," I replied as I rose to my feet as well, following her example. "I will see you first thing Monday morning. What time should I expect to start?" She smiled as she tilted her head at me.

"Eager, are we?" she asked playfully. When I didn't respond, she tapped a finger to her chin. "The bakery opens at six in the morning. I'll expect you here no later than five thirty. Until then, I hope you have a great rest of your weekend." With that, she took off towards the kitchen, and I turned to face the front door, pride swelling in my chest as I made my way across the dining room to the door.

As soon as I was outside, I let out a deep exhale, feeling as though I had been holding my breath for the entirety of the interview. All the anxiety and fears that had been weighing me down were gone, and I felt free for the first time since she had agreed to the interview. While I knew that there was no way I shouldn't end up with the job, I had still been anxious to hear what she had said. For all I knew, it was a family-owned company that preferred to keep their business within the family.

As I approached my car, which was parked in front of the bakery, I noticed several people on motorcycles riding down the road, and I stopped to watch them. While I couldn't deny the fact that I was curious about the lifestyle, I knew better than to try to get involved with people on motorcycles. I knew that most people on motorcycles were not part of motorcycle gangs or clubs, but there was always that chance that they were part of the one-percenters, and I didn't want anything to do with people like that. I knew better than to get involved in any form of gangs.

Much to my surprise, the group of people pulled up into the small parking lot to the side of the bakery, and I watched as they dismounted their motorcycles and removed their helmets. Every single one of them were tall with more muscles than a bodybuilder. They all wore the same uniform look of a muscle shirt ripped jeans and hiking boots along with a leather jacket. While they're leather jacket didn't hold any patches indicating their participation in a gang or club, as soon as I realized they had seen me staring, I turned to look away, not wanting to start any form of drama here in town. The last thing I wanted was to lose the job because I had messed with the wrong people in front of the building.

Not paying any attention to me, the group of people went into the bakery, and I quickly got into my car, relieved to be safe behind the tinted windows, where no one could see me. Something had felt different about the town ever since I returned home, but I couldn't figure out what seeing. The group of people on motorcycles had set me on edge, especially after seeing all the gang activity in Denver, but I knew that I couldn't just assume the worst about people. As far as I was concerned, the less I got involved with anybody, the less likely I was to get into any trouble as I prepared to return home.