Page 7 of Crow’s Haven (Savage Legion MC #15)
She glances over her shoulder at me before turning back to my boys.
“You have a biker name? That sounds like fun, but nothing about you looks boring,” she says with a grin, and for a second, she looks like someone else.
Certainly not a scared woman on the run from an abusive partner.
She looks like a regular person—just tired, but a kind one, trying to survive in the world.
I hang back, watching. She brings out the best in ‘em. My boys just take to her. I like the way my boys lean towards her without hesitation, and the way she shakes their little hands when they reach for her.
Scout tells her all about his current nickname. “Sprocket is the best biker name ever. That’s why I called dibs.”
I gesture at the store with one hand. “You working there, or just using the lot for shuteye?”
Her mouth twists at the corner, not quite a smile. “I’m not working right now.”
I raise a brow. “And you ain’t at Patch’s office either. I was lookin’ for you after you patched my kid up and you’d gone. Doc said you’d come for an interview.”
She shakes her head slowly as her expression turns blank. “I kind of panicked. I can’t go back there.”
I nod once, slow and careful. I don’t press her for answers because I have no right to pry into her personal affairs.
I don’t ask about the cop. I don’t mention the tremor I noticed in her hands or the way her eyes scanned every corner of the clinic like someone waiting to be hunted.
I already have my theories, and most of them lead back to a man with a badge.
“Look darlin’, you ain’t gotta spill your life story,” I say, keeping my tone friendly and unthreatening. “But I got two kids who need steady care. I have a huge house and can afford to pay a decent wage. If you’re looking for work, it might be a good fit for you.”
Her brows pinch. “You’re really offering me a job?”
“Yeah. Room, board, and cash. You can help with the house for a bit extra, if you want.”
I see the wariness in her eyes. “I know I look like trouble, but I can get people to vouch for me. The Doc, my club president’s old lady is a social worker, hell, you can talk to Rigs, he used to be a damn chaplain. This is a genuine offer, no strings.”
She blinks at me, clearly caught between suspicion and surprise. “Why me?”
“Because my boys don’t normally warm up to strangers but sure seem to like you.
And you handled the situation with Scout when he needed you.
My gut says you’re smart, protective, and resourceful.
” What I don’t say is that I recognize someone in trouble.
She needs my help, and I know she’ll not ask for it, but at least if she comes and stays with me, I can protect her.
Her arms tighten around herself. “You don’t even know who I am.”
I shrug. “Maybe not. But Patch was willing to hire you—and he’s club, so that’s solid.”
She looks away, clearly mulling over my words.
A strand of her dark hair falls over her cheek, a little wild from sleeping in the car.
I want to reach out and tuck it behind her ear, but I have enough fucking common sense to know it’s wrong to touch her without permission, especially when she’s vulnerable.
“I’ve got a few properties,” I continue, keeping my voice low. “I flip houses for a livin’. Kept the best one for me and my boys and renovated it myself. You’d have your pick of bedrooms, any of them we’re not using. You’d have a roof over your head, plenty to eat, and a door that locks.”
She studies me, searching for the catch.
“Ain’t trying to crowd you,” I add. “My mom was watching them while I worked, but she moved to Florida a few months ago and I’m struggling.”
She asks, her voice barely audible, “And your wife’s okay with that? You dragging home a strange woman without her approval? Surely their mom would want to interview me.”
There’s a pause. Then a small, fierce voice sounds off from the truck. “We don’t need no stinking mommies!”
I look over my shoulder to see that Scout is mean-mugging us both.
Chase nods solemnly. “We don’t have a mommy. She was a butterfly that flew away.”
For the first time in my life, my face flushes with embarrassment. I truly didn’t think that was even possible for a badass biker like me.
Sharon’s gaze flickers between them and me. I see something tender pass through her expression.
I clear my throat and rub the back of my neck. “I’m a single dad,” I say, meeting her eyes again. “It’s just the three of us, doing what we can.”
She nods slowly, understanding what I’m laying down for her. “That explains a lot about this situation.”
I stare at her and shake my head. “Just doing my best, that’s all.”
Her eyes get wide, and she begins nodding. “Clearly you are. I think you’re doing a bang-up job, and I didn’t mean to seem like I was insinuating otherwise.”
I step back and nod. “So, what do you say? You in?”
She hesitates for a second more before answering. “Alright,” she says finally. “I’ll take the job.”
A small grin jumps onto my face. “Good.”
“When do you want me to start?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Hell, you can start now if you’re up for it. Wanna help wrangle groceries?”
She smiles at me, seeming surer of herself. “Sure. Why not?”
The boys cheer. I watch her closely, noticing how the tension in her shoulders has eased just a fraction.
It’s not much, but it’s a start in the right direction towards building trust. I pull the twins out of the truck, and I grab a nearby cart.
They squeeze between me and the cart, walking right in front of me.
The automatic doors whoosh open as we walk in. Scout and Chase run ahead to the bakery case, looking over the display of cookies and frosted cupcakes. I watch my two little whirlwinds in sneakers pressing their faces against the glass excitedly. They’re picking out those treats I promised them.
Sharon walks up behind them. She hovers, hesitating about joining them through the process.
“Don’t sweat interacting with ‘em,” I murmur as I grab a cart. “They already like you.”
Sharon helps Chase get his treat while I pick up some muffins and fresh-baked bread. When we get to the cereal aisle, Chase points to my blueberry cereal. “This one is full of lies,” he says bluntly.
Sharon lets out a little laugh. “What makes you think that?”
“My dad says so,” Chase says confidently.
“Oh really? What kind of lies?” she asks, crouching down to Chase’s level.
“The ones that say it’s good for you.”
Scout cuts in, wrinkling his nose. “But it makes your poop blue.”
Her head jerks up to look at me. “Seriously?”
I clear my throat. “Regrettably… yeah.”
Her laugh bubbles up again. It’s brighter and less inhibited this time. I can feel the boys responding to it like sunflowers turning towards light, particularly Chase. Scout is still guarded, but he’s intrigued by her.
We make our way down the first aisle, the boys darting around like pinballs, gathering up all the more nutritious snacks, the ones they know I let them get as much of as they want.
Sharon keeps pace beside them. They pick out their favorite nuts, granola, dried fruit, and yogurt and throw it into the buggy.
I tell her, “Toss whatever you want in the cart.”
Much to my surprise, she does. First, she grabs snacks right along with the boys and then puts a few girly grooming supplies in the buggy.
There’s something different about her now.
She’s more relaxed and casual. I get the feeling that more of her natural personality is shining through. And I truly like what I’m seeing.
This sure as hell ain’t what I pictured when I realized I couldn’t keep juggling it all by myself.
I thought I’d find some older woman with years of childcare under her belt, someone tough and no-nonsense who’d keep the boys alive and fed while I scraped drywall and collected rents on my properties.
I never expected to hire a homeless woman who slept in her car, someone with secrets she kept carefully hidden.
We pass the pasta section, and Chase grabs a box and holds it up. “Can we make noodles with cheese tonight, Dad?”
I nod and jerk my chin for him to toss it in the cart. “Yeah, Throttle. Let’s do it.”
Sharon raises an eyebrow. “Noodles with cheese?”
“Yeah. Mac and cheese is one of their favorite meals,” I reply. “They call it noodles and cheese because they like to feel like chefs when they name things.”
We stop at one of the cash registers and begin unloading our groceries. As the salesclerk begins scanning our merchandise, I take a damn minute to breathe. I’m only just now realizing the huge change this is going to make in our lives, hopefully for the better.