by Sadie King
His Curvy Temptation
Biker Brothers of Winter Town - Book Three
Sadie King
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William
When I escape for some air before the most important business call of my life, I don’t expect to find a woman dancing barefoot in my Zen Garden.
The last two years of my life have been spent working toward this business deal. But now, all I can think about is her.
Ariel
Dad’s drinking is getting worse, and it’s starting to lose him clients. So I step in and take over the gardening business. But who knew our most profitable client was such a silver fox?
He’s older than me, confident and handsome. The kind of man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take it. And I think what he wants is me…
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Copyright © 2020 by Sadie King.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, companies, locales or persons living or dead, are entirely coincidental.
www.authorsadieking.com
His Curvy Temptation
Flynn
As a cop, it’s my job to keep the people of Winter Town safe. So when a woman moves in next door, jumpy as hell and sporting a black eye, I make it my business to find out what she’s running from.
The more I get to know her and her boisterous son, the more personal it becomes. But how far will I go to protect her?
Lucy
I’ve fled to a new town for a new start. The neighborhood is more than welcoming, especially the brooding cop next door. He’s smart and sweet and strong, but can he protect me from my past?
His Curvy Temptation is a small-town romance featuring an alpha male cop and a curvy single mom.
Book Three in the Biker Brothers of Winter Town series. Short, sweet tales of men who ride and the curvy women who claim their hearts.
Each book in the series is a stand-alone. No cliffhangers.
Contents
1. Lucy
2. Flynn
3. Lucy
4. Flynn
5. Lucy
6. Flynn
Epilogue
Get your insta-love fix!
1
Lucy
I pull into the driveway of the brickwork house and turn off the engine.
“This is it, buddy. Our new home.”
There’s no response, and I turn around to find Jason fast asleep in the back seat. His mouth’s slightly open and he looks so peaceful, much younger than his six years.
I leave the window down and quietly get out of the car. It’s been a long day and he needs the sleep.
I survey our new home. It’s a two-bedroom, two story house with a small backyard. The brickwork is crumbling. There’s moss growing on the window frames, and the fence looks like it might fall down at the first sign of wind. It doesn’t look anything like the sleek pictures the rental company forwarded me.
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” I mutter to myself, thinking of my mom and one of her favorite sayings. It was the only rental available immediately that I could afford. And it beats living out of a motel, which is what we’ve been doing for the past week.
I open the trunk and Jason stirs.
“Are we here, Mommy?” he asks.
“Yes, sweetheart. We’re here”
I help him out of the booster seat, and he stares, blinking, at our new home.
“Will I be able to ride my bike here?”
I look around at the neighborhood. It’s a quiet residential street with wide sidewalks. “I’m sure you will, sweetheart.”
I take the rusty key out of my pocket that I picked up from the rental company earlier and tentatively turn the lock.
The door squeaks as I push it open. It’s dark inside and smells musty. I flick on the light and almost switch it off again. The carpets are threadbare, and there’s a dark stain on the second step of the staircase that’s as big as my hand.
I paint on my best smile. “Let’s explore.”
I lock the door behind me, and we walk through a door to the right and into the kitchen. I run a finger over the counters, and it comes up thick with dust.
The living room isn’t much better. The worn leather couch has a film of dust as does the matching armchair.
“The first thing we need to do is give it a good clean,” I say.
“And open some windows,” adds Jason.
He pushes open the low window by the couch.
“Not that one.” I stop his hand, and he looks up at me in surprise. “Let’s open the windows upstairs. We can air the house out that way.”
He doesn’t seem to notice my hand shaking.
There’s a bathroom at the top of the stairs and two bedrooms.
“Will this be my room?” he asks doubtfully. There’s a single bed and a chest of drawers and not much room for anything else. The paint is crumbing off the walls, and one curtain is hanging off the rail.
“We’ll give it some paint and get your superhero posters on the walls. It’ll look cozy,” I say brightly.
My room isn’t much bigger, just enough space for the double bed and a wardrobe.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s check out the garden.”
There’s a path that leads to a backyard which is so overgrown it comes up to my knees. Another key opens the shed in the corner where I find a lawnmower. I lock it back up for now. It’ll take me a couple of days to clean the house up. Then I can think about the garden.
I come back to the car and pull Jason’s bike out the trunk. He hops on eagerly.
“Just stay in the driveway and garden for now,” I tell him. “We’ll go out around the street together later.”
While he rides up and down the drive, I carry the bags from the trunk into the house.
We don’t have much. Just a few bin bags full of clothes, bedding, kitchen items, and toys. I left in a hurry and only grabbed the essentials.
I chose this place because it was furnished and cheap. We’ll have to make do with what we have for a while.
I’m reaching into the trunk for Jason’s Lego box when I hear the roar of a motorcycle. I turn to see a classic-looking bike pull into the house next door.
It stops in the driveway, and a man climbs off. His bike leathers cling to his broad frame, showing off a tight chest and thick arms. He pulls off his helmet revealing clipped dark hair and a square jawline on a handsome face.
His gaze sweeps over Jason on his bike, our rusty old car, and finally rests on me. He looks at me intensely as if he’s taking in every detail. His eyes travel down my body and up again to rest on my face. A tremor runs down the back of my neck, and I feel myself start to color under his gaze.
I get the feeling he’s about to come over and say something when my attention is diverted by Jason.
“Mommy, Mommy, I saw a frog!”
I pull my eyes away from the man and down to the smiling face of my son. “Did you catch it?”
“It jumped away.”
We spend a few moments talking about frogs, and when I look back the man has gone.
I take the last of the boxes inside, occasionally glancing a
t the house next door. But there’s no sign of the man I saw earlier.
Once the boxes are in, I call Jason inside and lock the door. I breathe a sigh of relief as the key clicks in the lock of our new home. It needs a deep clean and a coat of paint, but it’s ours and it’s safe.
2
Flynn
I shove a spoonful of Cheerios into my mouth as I watch my new neighbor through the kitchen window.
The lawnmower looks like it’s from the eighties, and she’s turning red trying to push it through the patch of overgrown weeds that the stingy landlord calls a garden.
All week I’ve seen her come and go wearing yellow gloves and tipping buckets of mucky water down the drain. She must have given the place a thorough clean, and now she’s tackling the garden.
The kid rides his bike up and down the path between the house and the garden and she glances up often, never letting him out of her sight.
I wonder what it is that’s got her so jumpy, and if it has anything to do with the fading bruises I noticed around her eye when I first saw her last week.
My fists clench at the thought of someone hitting a woman. I know I’m jumping to conclusions, but I’ve been a cop too long not to know what a black eye looks like.
I haven’t seen her go out much, and she locks the door as soon as she gets into the house. You don’t need to be a cop to know what’s going on here. She’s run away from someone, most likely a man, and she’s frightened he’ll find her.
I slam my plate into the sink, nearly breaking it. A woman should feel safe in this town, and it’s my duty to make sure she does.
It’s not just because I’m a cop. There’s something about this woman that has me worked up. She’s good looking for a start. Pretty face and a curvy body, just what I like. And the way she’s turning that dump into a home for her and the boy pulls at my heart strings. I can tell she’s a good mother by the way she interacts with him. She’s looking after him, and I’m going to look after her.
She pushes the lawnmower over a clump of weeds, and the motor cuts out. I head out back to my shed, and a few minutes later I’m wheeling my lawnmower across the driveway.
“Looks like you need a hand.”
She jumps when she hears my voice, and I see a flash of fear run through her before her face settles. Damn, I should have known not to sneak up on her.
“I’m doing fine,” she says defiantly, pulling at the starter plug. The lawnmower splutters but doesn’t start.
“You’re welcome to use mine,” I offer. “Even better. I’ll do the lawn for you.”
She eyes me suspiciously. “Why would you do that?”
Damn, this woman has serious trust issues.
“Because it’s the neighborly thing to do.”
She stares at me, and I thrust out my hand. “I’m Flynn. I live next door.”
She shakes my hand, and her skin is soft and warm. I resist the urge to pull her toward me.
“I’m Lucy. Sorry, I haven’t met any of the neighbors yet.”
“We’re a pretty friendly bunch.”
She smiles, and damn, the whole world lights up. “We’ve been keeping to ourselves, settling in.”
I pull her old lawnmower out of the weeds, and a clump of grass comes out with it.
“This needs to go to the dump. From now on, I’ll do your lawns for you.”
Her eyes go wide in surprise. “Oh no, really you don’t need to do that.”
“I know I don’t, but I want to, okay? So why don’t you go and get me a cold drink, and I’ll get to work.”
She goes inside the house, taking the boy with her, and I get going on the lawn. It’s hard work and takes me over an hour to clear the small section. But it’s worth it to spend another five minutes talking with her when I’m done.
The boy, Jason, she tells me his name is, plays with some action figures in the pile of cut grass while we sit on the back steps drinking soda.
“How old is he?” I ask.
“Just turned six.”
“Father not around?”
She winces at the question and looks away. I’m used to being direct in my job and forget it makes some people uneasy.
“No,” she says quietly.
I’m not going to pry. I just hope the fucker doesn’t turn up here.
“You ever need a man to help with anything around the house you just ask, okay?”
She frowns. “That’s kind, thank you.”
“I know it’s not easy. My brother is a single parent. You need anything, you just ask.”
She nods.
“And I’m a cop, so if there’s ever any trouble I’m just next door.”
She looks up at me quickly, surprised that I’ve worked her out. But before she can say anything, Jason comes running over.
“Mom, Mom, I found a caterpillar.” He waves a leaf around with a green thing on it.
I stand up, and before I leave, I bend down to ruffle his hair.
“You look after your Mom, okay?” I tell him.
He nods solemnly, and I take my leave.
Once home I can’t help glancing out the window, watching her in the garden with the boy. She’s stirred something inside me, something that wants to protect her, keep her safe.
She goes into the house well before sunset, shutting all the windows and pulling the curtains behind her.
3
Lucy
A few days later, I pull up onto the drive after a trip to the supermarket. I grab the bags out of the trunk, and I’m about to take them inside when a noise from the back garden makes me stop in my tracks.
The hairs at the back of my neck prickle. I put the bags down and search around for something I can use as a weapon. I keep a baseball bat by the bed, but I don’t want to risk going into the house.
There’s an empty terracotta pot by the side of the house, and I sneak over and grab it.
Thump thump.
The noise is definitely coming from the back garden. My heart is thumping in my ears, and my knees are shaking as I creep around the side of the house. I pause at the corner of the house, raise the pot above my head, and step boldly around the corner and into the backyard.
Thump thump.
Flynn is nailing up a wonky fence post.
He spins around when he hears me, and for a moment we stare at each other. Me with a pot over my head and him with a row of nails in his mouth and a hammer in his hand. He casually puts the hammer down and spits the nails into his palm.
“You gonna lower that weapon, ma’am?” he asks with a smile.
Relief floods over me, and I lower the pot. I’m shaking as I put it on the ground, and as I place it down my knees give out, and I collapse onto the grass.
He’s beside me in a moment. I struggle into a sitting position and try to stand up.
“Don’t try to get up.” His voice is commanding and I obey instantly, relaxing into his strong arms as the world spins around me.
“I’m okay,” I say. “I just got a fright, that’s all.” It comes out as a whisper, and his concerned face hovers over me.
“I’m getting you inside.”
One arm goes around my shoulder and the other hooks under my legs.
“Whoa, wait, you won’t be able to lift...”
My sentence is cut short as he picks me up off the ground. I’m a big girl, but he carries me as if I’m light as a feather.
The world’s still spinning, and I lean into his chest and close my eyes, breathing in his scent of cut grass and motorbike grease.
“You got the key?” he asks when we get to the door.
I manage to reach the pocket of my jeans and hand him the key. He unlocks it and carries me into the house and lays me on the couch.
“I’ll get you some water,” he says.
By the time he comes back, the world has stopped spinning and I’m sitting up. He crouches down in front of me and hands me the glass of water. I sip it slowly, dreading the questions that must come next.
&
nbsp; “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. “I noticed the other day that you had a few loose boards on your fence, so I thought I’d fix it for you.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I didn’t mean to scare you either.”
He laughs, and wow, his blue eyes light up when he smiles. “I’ve come face to face with criminals, I’ve been punched, shot at, but none of them have been as scary as a woman wielding a clay garden pot.”
“It was plastic.”
“What?”
“After I picked it up, I realized it was plastic, not clay. It wouldn’t have hurt anyone.”
He roars with laughter, and I can’t help but smile. I feel the tension easing out of my body as I watch him laugh.
“You feeling better?” he asks.
I nod.
“Good.” He gets to his feet. “Cause we’re going for a ride.”
I stare at him, my mouth open.
“On my bike,” he adds.
“But I need to pick Jason up from school.”
He looks at his watch. “What time?”
“Three o’clock.”
“I’ll have you back by then.”
I search around for another excuse and realize I can’t find one. He holds out a hand and I take it, letting him pull me up off the couch.
“I need to put the groceries away,” I say, remembering the bags I dropped by the door.
“I’ll help.”
He brings the bags through to the kitchen, and I put the perishables in the fridge.
“I’ll do the rest later,” I say, turning away from the bags. I’m suddenly embarrassed by him seeing the bargain brand cans of beans and sweet corn.
