Motorcycle Daddy (MC Daddies Book 1) Read online

  Motorcycle Daddy

  Laylah Roberts

  Contents

  Let’s keep in touch!

  Books by Laylah Roberts

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Daddy’s Angel

  Laylah Roberts

  Motorcycle Daddy

  © 2020, Laylah Roberts

  [email protected]

  laylahroberts.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  Cover Design by: Allycat’s Creations

  Editing: Celeste Jones

  Created with Vellum

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  Books by Laylah Roberts

  Doms of Decadence

  Just for You, Sir

  Forever Yours, Sir

  For the Love of Sir

  Sinfully Yours, Sir

  Make me, Sir

  A Taste of Sir

  To Save Sir

  Sir’s Redemption

  Reveal Me, Sir

  Montana Daddies

  Daddy Bear

  Daddy’s Little Darling

  Daddy’s Naughty Darling Novella

  Daddy’s Sweet Girl

  Daddy’s Lost Love

  A Montana Daddies Christmas

  Daring Daddy

  Warrior Daddy

  Daddy’s Angel (coming June, 2020)

  Heal Me, Daddy (coming July 2020)

  MC Daddy

  Motorcycle Daddy

  Haven, Texas Series

  Lila’s Loves

  Laken’s Surrender

  Saving Savannah

  Molly’s Man

  Saxon’s Soul

  Mastered by Malone

  How West was Won

  Cole’s Mistake

  Men of Orion

  Worlds Apart

  Cavan Gang

  Rectify

  Redemption

  Redemption Valley

  Audra’s Awakening

  Old-Fashioned Series

  An Old-Fashioned Man

  Two Old-Fashioned Men

  Her Old-Fashioned Husband

  Her Old-Fashioned Boss

  His Old-Fashioned Love

  An Old-Fashioned Christmas

  Bad Boys of Wildeside

  Wilde

  Sinclair

  Luke

  1

  Mowing the lawn was the last thing Sunny wanted to do.

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t the sort of person who could just ignore the fact that something needed doing. No matter that her feet were aching and she really just wanted to shower then collapse into bed.

  She hauled herself out of her tiny car, and without bothering to even go inside the house, she tromped down to the small shed to drag her lawnmower out. She actually loved this shed. Everything was ordered just how she wanted it, and nearly all of her tools were pink. Even her lawnmower was pink with little rhinestones glued along the front of it.

  Greg would have hated it. Greg had made her buy a plain black mower, even though she’d been the one to do all the outside maintenance. He’d claimed it was better to split the chores up according to their strengths.

  Which might have made perfect sense, if Greg had any strengths. She snorted to herself as she started up the lawnmower. Something Greg would have told her off for.

  Apparently, snorting was not ladylike.

  Who knew?

  Then again, who cared, right?

  Only Greg. Maybe if she’d cared more, their marriage might have lasted. Then again, if it meant she got to push around a pink lawnmower with diamantes maybe she was better off without Greg.

  She finished up her mowing, and wiped the sweat off her forehead. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t had time to eat the rice salad she’d packed for lunch today. Ronny, her boss, had over-scheduled her. Again. And again, she’d had to work through her breaks. Plus, she’d gotten home later than usual.

  Today had been a gorgeous summer day. She was pushing her lawnmower back down to her tiny shed with its flower boxes planted in front of the small windows and its bright red, cheery roof when she looked across at her neighbor’s backyard.

  The houses on this street were all small but had big plots. Suited her. She liked working outside. Her neighbor obviously did not. His backyard was bereft of anything but a huge deck and grass. Lots of grass. Overgrown grass.

  Shoot.

  Drat.

  You do not have to take care of that for him. He’s not your friend.

  Because she had so many of those.

  They hardly ever crossed paths. He was usually gone by the time she got home and when she got up in the morning, the house was dark. Although she hadn’t seen his truck in the driveway the last few mornings, so maybe he was away.

  Which is probably why he hadn’t noticed that his lawn mowing service hadn’t been doing their job.

  Just leave it, Sunny. Not your problem.

  But if the grass wasn’t cut soon, the homeowners association was likely to fine him. Paisley, the head of the association, seemed to have nothing more to do than go around handing out fines.

  Sunny had once caught her measuring her front lawn with a ruler at seven in the morning, wearing yoga pants, and a work-out bra, with her enormous German Shepherd watching on menacingly. She’d received a fine later that day for her grass being a half inch too long.

  She wondered how many fines her neighbor had already received for his long lawn, and the fact that his truck was often parked in the driveway instead of inside the garage.

  Greg had loved all these rules. Had claimed it kept all the riff-raff out. Yes, he’d actually used that word.

  Riff-raff.

  Sometimes she thought he was an eighty-year-old trapped in a thirty-year-old’s body. He’d been pissed when the neighbor moved in. With his motorcycle, and his penchant for Sunday afternoon barbecues with his rough-looking friends.

  He’d gone on for weeks about a gang moving in, and property values going down.

  Funny, how he’d claimed the opposite when she’d offered to buy out his half of the house in the divorce. Maybe she should have just sold this place. Moved on. But she loved this house.

  Nope, she definitely didn’t owe her handsome-looking neighbor who’d never once even said hello to her, anything.

  So why was she pushing her lawnmower next door?

  Duke was in a shitty mood.

  He was tired. He wa
s hungry. He was grouchy. He should have been headed to work, but he couldn’t stomach being around people right now.

  When he got in these moods, which didn’t happen all that often, he knew he needed to stay far away from other people. He couldn’t trust himself not to say or do something he’d regret later.

  He pulled his truck into his driveway, parking in front of the single car garage.

  Stepping out, he strode over to the mailbox, frowning when he saw it was empty. Shrugging, he moved into the house. Shit. It was hot as hell in here. Turning on the air, he grabbed a beer out of the fridge. All he wanted to do was sit on his porch and have a quiet drink.

  Alone.

  He scowled at the sound of a lawn mower as he stepped outside. He’d heard it out front, but he’d hoped it was the neighbor across the road.

  He froze on his porch, eyes narrowing in on the short figure pushing a bright pink mower down his thick lawn.

  What the fuck? Who was that? And why the hell was his grass so long?

  The service he used should have mowed them days ago. Holy shit. . .did that mower have jewels glued onto the front of it?

  He stared at the woman who had her head down, her attention on what she was doing. As she grew closer, he realized it was his next-door neighbor. Fucking awesome. He’d seen her around a few times in passing. Mousy, quiet sort of woman. Her loud, obnoxious husband had moved out months ago.

  Why was she mowing his lawns? Without his permission. Duke didn’t mingle with people outside the Iron Shadows.

  He didn’t give a shit about his neighbor and what she did. Unless it impacted him. Which right now, it sure fucking did.

  Calm. She’s obviously just trying to do something nice.

  He glanced down as his foot hit something, sending his mail flying.

  Fuck. Fuck.

  She’d touched his mail? He bent down and picked up the pile, spotting one that had been half-opened. Had she gone peeking? He took a look at what was inside that envelope, shock filling him as photos spilled out.

  What the fuck was this? Why would someone send him photos? Unease stirred through his gut. Especially as he saw one of the photos was from last night.

  When he’d been staking out the senator’s family home. Senator Jonathan Robins. Assbag extraordinaire. Sex offender. Douchebag. A man that the Iron Shadows leader, Reyes, badly wanted to take down. Duke had been doing his stint on dickhead-watch. Not that he’d seen anything of interest.

  Hence his current bad mood.

  But now he was even angrier. Since it seemed like someone had been watching him. Taking photos of him.

  And he’d never had an inkling.

  Fuck. Fuck. Shit.

  Someone knew. Who the fuck was it? What did they want? He turned the envelope over. There was nothing written on it. It hadn’t been posted. He searched through the photos quickly, there weren’t just photos of him in here, but also of Reyes, Ink, Razor, Spike and Jason. What the fuck?

  The roar of the lawnmower brought him back to the present. She’d opened his mail? Had she looked inside?

  He stormed towards the woman. He couldn’t remember her name. Wasn’t sure if he’d ever learned it, to be honest. The envelope filled with photos was clenched in his right fist.

  Duke was a guy who was slow to anger. But once he let go it was hard to rein it back in.

  The woman didn’t even look up. She just plodded up and down in neat, even rows. Obviously, she couldn’t hear him over the loud noise of the mower, but couldn’t she sense him? Christ, anyone could sneak up on her.

  For some reason, that made him even angrier.

  He stepped in front of her, waiting for her to reach him. He knew the moment she saw him. Heard her let out a startled cry as the mower stopped a few inches from his black boots.

  He glanced up from his boots to scowl at the woman. She was dressed in a long-sleeved, ugly-as-sin khaki shirt with something embroidered on the top right.

  Clean Cut Gardening Services.

  Hoping to get another client on her books, was she?

  Not happening, sweetheart.

  Her shirt swamped her, her green shorts came down to her calves, making her look like she was playing dress-ups in her dad’s clothes. Her hair was hidden under an ugly straw hat that looked like a family of rats had taken refuge in it, nibbling away at parts of it. Her cheeks were flushed, sweat coated her skin. She looked worn out.

  And his temper bubbled even further.

  “Oh shoot, you scared me!”

  She had a hand pressed against her chest. He moved to the side, turning off the mower. The silence was almost deafening.

  “Funny that, considering this is my property and you’re trespassing!”

  The red faded from her cheeks and she took a step back. A smidge of regret filled him at scaring her but as he folded his arms across his chest, he remembered the crumpled-up envelope in his hand and that she was ruining the few hours of peace he had before having to go into the club.

  “Tr-trespassing?” she stuttered; her voice so quiet he could scarcely hear her. “I’m not trespassing!”

  “No? What do you call it when you’re somewhere that you weren’t given permission to be?”

  “I-I’m mowing your grass.” She pointed down at her mower.

  He grunted. “Didn’t ask you to.”

  She narrowed her gaze, a spark of heat entering her eyes. So she wasn’t as meek and mild as she made out? Interesting. . .

  Still, she really wasn’t his type. He liked women who were submissive in the bedroom, but otherwise could take care of themselves. This woman would need constant care and assurances. He didn’t have time for that.

  “Are you that desperate for work you’re over here mowing my lawn for free trying to drum up business?”

  Her eyes widened, her mouth opening in shock. His eyes were drawn to those plump, pink lips. Hmm, for someone who was rather unremarkable looking, she had a very nice mouth.

  It would look very pretty wrapped around a cock.

  He nearly snorted. Like she’d ever give a blow-job. She had missionary-only written all over her. Probably closed her eyes and lay there until it was done.

  Okay, enough.

  She should not turn you on.

  She’s some nosy neighbor, probably in the homeowners association like Yoga Barbie who pretended to go running each morning just so she could spy on everyone.

  Like she could run with those hugely-inflated fake boobs.

  “No. Of course not. I was trying to be a good neighbor!”

  “By opening my mail? You call that being a good neighbor? Because I call it a federal offense.”

  She went even more pale and he worried for a moment that she was going to faint.

  Fuck. Shit.

  He had to remind himself that she wasn’t some prospect he was telling off for being a dipshit. She was a woman. She’d probably never been spoken to like this in her life. She couldn’t even seem to swear for fucks sake.

  Calm down, Duke.

  All he’d wanted was a cold beer and an hour of peace. It would have reinstated his equilibrium. He knew that he was taking his bad mood out of her and it wasn’t cool. . .

  Unless she really had opened his mail.

  She hadn’t answered his accusation with a denial. He raised an eyebrow, holding out the envelope.

  She swallowed. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for it to rip. There was so much mail in your box and the homeowners association gives out fines if you don’t collect your mail daily. So I thought I’d get it out for you. I had to tug hard and that envelope ripped. I didn’t see anything.”

  He sighed. Crap. He believed her. She wasn’t some nosy cow out to poke around in his life. She was just a nice woman trying to be a good neighbor.

  And you are a real prick.

  He massaged his head. “Look, I—”

  “I need to go.”

  She pushed the lawnmower around him and started up towards the side gate. He thought
about going after her, apologizing. But the truth was he was probably better off letting her go. If this encounter stopped her from coming over here again, all the better.

  He moved back up onto the porch. From his vantage point above her, he could just spot her in the waning light, pushing the lawnmower into that ridiculous garden shed of hers. Didn’t she have any security lights? He scowled. What was that dick she’d been living with thinking?

  And why the hell did he care? The guys had given him shit about buying a house in suburbia. This place was so normal and ordinary, it did seem like a strange choice.

  But he liked that it was ordinary. That the worst he had to worry about was the neighborhood association fining him for breaking the rules. Although that fake woman who headed the association had made it clear that in exchange for sexual favors, she’d gladly turn the other cheek on any breaches.

  He shuddered at the thought. He didn’t have to worry about drive-by shootings or who was cooking up meth. This place reminded him of his childhood. Before he’d lost everything.

  Darkness fell and the quiet soothed him. It also had him sighing with regret.

  He’d been a real asshole.

  Christ. He didn’t even know her name. Knew nothing about her except that she was quiet, and she’d had an uptight suit living with her when he’d first arrived. He took another sip of beer, glancing down at the envelope in his hands. His outdoor lights were set to come on automatically and they’d switched on several minutes ago.

  Unlike next door. Where there were no lights on at all.

  He frowned. The photos are what you should care about. Not your mousy neighbor.

  Except she hadn’t seemed so mousy, standing there with her mouth open, her tanned skin flush with exertion. Those ugly, baggy clothes should have been a turn-off and yet he’d found himself wondering at the body underneath. Had he ever seen her in anything that wasn’t baggy and several sizes too big? Not that he could recall.