“Night, Mama.”
My heart soared every time she called me that, and I wondered if it always would.
I left her door cracked and wandered down to my nan’s room. Perhaps it should have felt strange, but I found it comforting to curl up on her bed. It smelled like Noxzema and lavender soap, like Nan.
With her smell all around me and my little girl sleeping contentedly down the hall, I drifted into a fitful sleep.
Chapter 2
LAYLA
The house, it’s yours.
The lawyer’s words woke me from a restless sleep. Now, as I roamed the house in what had become a nightly routine, the moonlight shining its muted beam through the living room, I wondered if I’d ever sleep soundly again. This house, though my nan had lived here for years and I’d visited on occasion, was still new to me, as were all of the creaks and moans it made when the rest of the world was quiet.
And it was quiet.
After living in San Francisco with its steady stream of noise, nights here were almost oppressively quiet—allowing far too many thoughts to swirl and plant themselves deep.
I wandered the large house, taking in the living room furniture complete with striped couches that though comfortable, clashed something awful with the floral wallpaper. My nan had been many things but an interior designer wasn’t one of them. Despite the assault on my eyes, I smiled fondly, remembering sitting with her here, catching up during one of my visits to see her.
My perusal continued through the kitchen that, though outdated, had been well maintained. My nan had taken pride in her home.
A home that was now mine.
I was still getting used to that fact two weeks later.
In the end, the decision to leave San Francisco had been easy. My job as a commercial photographer was steady, but with rents sky-high in San Francisco, I’d been struggling to make ends meet. The fact that I could do my job from almost anywhere and that I now didn’t have to worry about rent or a mortgage gave Riley and me the stability we both needed. I hadn’t realized how worried I’d been financially until now. And, despite the adjustment to small-town living, I liked Hawthorne. Always had.
I climbed the steps, crested the landing, and headed for Riley’s room. I found her flat on her back, her arms and legs splayed as though she’d fought the sheets and won. Her dark hair was spread across the pillow, her expression soft with sleep. Her ever-present protector, Oscar, lay curled up at the foot of her bed where he’d slept every night since we’d moved in.
I’d belabored it enough and, with a resigned sigh, made my way to what was now my room, the master at the end of the hall. I’d bought new sheets but other than that I’d kept the room largely unchanged. It felt oddly natural to move into Nan’s room. Somehow it made me feel less alone.
I sent up a silent prayer that I could get at least a few hours of rest as I burrowed under the covers, willing my mind to quiet right along with the night outside.
“Mama.” A whisper yell and small hand shaking my arm woke me far too early the next day.
“RiRi, it’s early baby,” I mumbled, cracking an eye open to spy her staring expectantly back at me, her blue eyes wide and, unfortunately for me, wide awake. “Want to curl up with me for a while?” I invited hopefully.
She shook her head. “You said we were going for muffins this morning, ’member?”
“Yeah, baby, but not at—” I let out a groan when I saw the clock. “—five thirty.”
She’d been waking up especially early since we’d moved, sometimes crawling into bed with me in the middle of the night.
She stared at me, clearly trying to come up with a new strategy that would pull me out of bed before the sun. “How about some Sesame Street?” I bargained.
She bit her lip, deliberating before she nodded in agreement.
Thank God.
I pulled out my iPad as she climbed up into my bed, making herself comfortable as I started her show.
****
“Two chocolate-banana muffins, please,” I ordered at a much more reasonable hour later that morning. In our short time in Hawthorne, we hadn’t been out much, but Francesca’s Sweets with its delicious pastries had quickly become a favorite.
“And a large coffee for Mama?” May winked from behind the counter.
With the amount of times I’ve been in the coffee shop over the last few weeks, we were on a first-name basis.
“What was your first clue?” I laughed as Riley stood, practically quivering with excitement as she waited for me to hand over her muffin.
“Emmie!” Riley squealed excitedly, her eyes toward the door.
I turned to watch my friend approach, a broad grin on her beautiful face.
“Hi, RiRi. That’s a large coffee, Layla,” she commented with a grin and a raised brow toward me.
“This little hellion was up at five thirty,” I replied dryly.
“Enough said.” She laughed and turned her eyes to the register. “May, mind bringing me over a cup?”
“I didn’t realize you two knew each other,” I commented as Em pulled up a chair. “Though I shouldn’t be surprised,” I added with a laugh. “You know everyone.”
She smiled but didn’t deny it. “May is Ryker and Piper’s daughter,” she replied, referring to another family from the club who I’d heard about but had yet to meet. “And such a hottie,” she added with a teasing grin at May.
With her striking almond-shaped green eyes and black hair, May was a complete knockout and clearly shy, if her blush at Emmie’s teasing said anything about it.
“So,” Em continued, turning eyes to me. “How goes the settling in? Did Amelia help you get things sorted for Riley’s school?”
Once I’d decided to move, Emmie and her network had been quick to put the wheels in motion. Amelia, yet another daughter from the MC, was a kindergarten teacher, and as luck would have it, I was able to get Riley in to her class as well as their aftercare program. As a single, working mother, having those details sorted was like having a boulder lifted off my chest. I was beyond grateful to know Riley was in such good hands.
“She did, thank you so much. Riley will love it,” I replied, hoping that was true. With those she was close to, Riley was outgoing and outrageously funny. But in new situations, she was shy and slow to come out of her shell. She was particularly cautious with men, even a bit leery.
“She’ll be fine,” Emmie mouthed with a wink in my direction just as the roar of motorcycle pipes rattled the windows. I turned, watching as a group of five bikers passed on the street, the Knights MC insignia bold and bright on their vests. A few of their faces were familiar but the man toward the back of the pack was new to me—as was the intake of breath he incited. With his blond hair tied back into a knot, his blue eyes fierce as his larger-than-life muscles strained, he looked like a Viking warrior.
I couldn’t remember the last time my body had responded to a man so unequivocally. I watched him avidly until he disappeared down the street and around the corner. The coffee shop felt nearly silent in the wake of the motorcycle’s heady rumble.
“That’s Cash Walker.” Emmie’s voice broke through my haze as she clearly picked up on where my gaze had been directed. “Good guy, trustworthy, not boyfriend material,” she warned.