Dash (Silver Saints MC)

It was good that someone understood what he meant because I still felt as though I was entirely in the dark about what was going on. I’d somehow found myself in the middle of an MC clubhouse—which looked nothing like I would have expected since it was clean and no half-naked women were hanging around—while my boss of less than one day was almost acting like we were a couple or something. After I’d accidentally witnessed him cleaning up a murder scene, a fact I kept forgetting somehow.

My only excuse was that my attraction to Dash was more potent than alcohol…and must have killed off a bunch of brain cells like drinking could do. Not that I had firsthand experience since I was only nineteen. But I’d seen it plenty of times with Thad and his friends. I’d clearly lost enough that I willingly let him lead me farther into the clubhouse and over to a long bar. I didn’t even think to argue until he started taking his leather jacket off me. I didn’t want to lose it, not when it smelled amazing and made me feel as though I had Dash wrapped around me. But I couldn’t come up with a good excuse to keep the jacket on, so I let him pull it off my body without complaining.

After setting it on the bar top, he asked, “You want something to drink, beautiful?”

My gaze darted toward the liquor bottles, nerves swirling in my belly when I realized he probably didn’t know that I wasn’t old enough to drink. He hadn’t even known my name, so Mrs. Acker couldn’t have given him a lot of details about his newest employee. I was worried that knowing how young I was might change how he looked at me, but I still admitted, “I’m only nineteen.”

His lips curved into a sexy grin that turned those nerves into butterflies of awareness. “Nobody’s gonna card you here, but we’ve got plenty of non-alcoholic choices if you want. There should even be some fancy root beer since Rider keeps a stash behind the bar.”

I was just going to take him up on the offer when the door flung open and two adorable little girls—identical twins with the same dirty blond hair and hazel eyes as Dash—came running across the large room toward us, screaming, “Uncle Dash!”

His expression was so soft as he crouched down to get eye level with the girls that my heart was barely able to stand the sweetness. “Your root beer radar must’ve gone off. I was just talking about them.”

“Can we take ’em to go?” one of them asked.

The other nodded. “Yeah, Mom’s waiting in the car. She just wanted us to run inside to ask you a question.”

“Sure thing,” he agreed with a grin before standing and walking around the bar to grab three bottles out of the fridge. He popped the cap off one and slid it toward me, and then he went back around to the girls and popped theirs off before handing them each a bottle. “The question must be a doozy if she dropped by instead of calling.”

The girl who’d asked about taking the root beers with them shook her head and said, “She just wanted to know if you’d come over for dinner tomorrow.”

He cocked his head to the side. “What’re you havin’?”

“Pot roast.”

Dash crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. “If that’s what your mom is in the mood to eat, she probably sent you two in here to see if I’d come over and cook because she knows how hard it is to say no to you.”

“Maybe.” The ringleader of the duo pasted an innocent expression on her face as she blinked up at Dash while her sister stifled a giggle and ducked her head. “But only ’cause yours is the best.”

Hold up.

The super-hot, scary biker who kept calling me beautiful and clearly loved his adorable twin nieces also knew how to cook? There went my ovaries…and any hope I had of keeping my panties on around him.

6

Dash

Annie batted her eyes at me—a proven tactic against me—and Ally continued to giggle.

I scratched my chin and pretended to think it over, holding back a laugh when both girls clasped their hands together and, in their sweet voices, said, “Pleeeeeeeease?”

Only someone completely heartless could say no to that. “Okay,” I sighed, pretending to be put out.

“Yay!” Both girls threw themselves into my arms, almost knocking all three of us to the ground.

“Will you make cookies, too?” Ally begged before giving me a smacking kiss on my cheek.

“Well, since you paid the fee…but Annabear still owes me.” The girls giggled, and Annie smacked a kiss on my other cheek. “Cookies it is.”

They cheered, then Annie went running to the front door. However, Ally stayed in front of me, twirling one of her long blond curls and frowning. “What’s wrong, Ally-cat?”