I shouldn’t trust a man who wears an MC patch. Who scares off thugs with a single look.
So why do I feel safer in his cabin than I’ve ever felt in my life?
Don’t make enemies. Simple rule. But when two bikers walk into my bar and ask me to cook their books, there’s only one answer I’m capable of giving.
Now there’s a target on my back, and the only safe place is a cabin with a man I don’t know. Dante Rowe is big. Quiet. Older than me. He gives me a door that locks. Food. Structure. Safety.
When he finds what I keep hidden under the bed — he doesn’t even blink. And when he calls himself Daddy . . . a part of me I’ve hidden for years starts begging me to say yes.
I spent twenty-four years needing no one. So why does surrendering to him feel like finally coming home?
