Rock Hard Daddy: A Single Dad & A Virgin Romance

by Rye Hart

  “It’s quite amazing, really. It was good to see London again, of course, but all the same, I was in haste to return home.”

  “Perhaps you are eager to resume your social life among the others of our standing, and you are looking forward to our guests tonight.”

  “Yes, perhaps,” Lord Richard said, spearing a strip of bacon. “Miss Lockwood is quite correct; Mrs. Mays truly does prepare the best bacon I’ve ever eaten. I must go to her after I’m finished and commend her on her gastronomic insights.”

  “Miss Lockwood is gone. She is on her way back to London.”

  Lord Richard stared at his father, his bacon forgotten upon the fork in his hand. “Gone? What do you mean? Why would she depart so precipitously?”

  “Her work is done. Why should she linger? Besides, she recognizes her station. She understands, as she should, that we are having guests tonight and she would be in the way.”

  Lord Richard put down his fork. “On her way back to London, you say? I must have passed the coach.” He rose from his chair. “I must catch up to her.”

  “Richard! What on earth are you saying? We are having guests tonight. Lady Lenore will be among them. You cannot abandon your duties as a host to run after a nursemaid who neglected to bid you farewell.”

  “Father, Mother, Cressida Lockwood is much more than a nursemaid. She is the woman I love. I realized how shallow my feelings for Lady Lenore were. And how shallow were her feelings for me. I did not know the Crittendons were on the guest list for tonight, or I would have spoken sooner. I have never told anyone before what it felt like to be helpless. That day, when El Diablo threw me and I lay on the ground, unable to get up, I was ashamed. My fiancée was standing above me, telling me to get up and I could not. She could not understand why I did not simply rise to my feet and I could not explain to her I was unable to do so. I sent her away to tell my parents that I had been injured and that was genuine. But I wanted her to get away from me. I didn’t want to see myself as helpless and weak in her eyes. I do not expect you to understand, but in Cressida’s eyes, I am the stronger because I overcame my weakness. I must bring her back. She will be my wife, Father. Can you accept that?”

  Before his father spoke, Lady Constance said, “We will accept your choice of bride, Richard. How could we not? Miss Lockwood is a phenomenal woman and I applaud your decision.”

  The Earl was thunderstruck. “She is a nursemaid!”

  Lady Constance got up from the table. “She will be our daughter-in-law, dearest. But Richard, you must take Rheims with you, and you must speak to her father. I will make your excuses for tonight.”

  Richard was already on his way, calling for Rheims, donning his multi-caped cloak and heading out the door on his way to the stables. Rheims, alerted to the errand, chose a swifter mount this time.

  The coach moved slowly, making it no effort for them to overtake it on horseback. The driver, convinced that he was being attacked by highwaymen, pulled the horses to a stop and begged them not to shoot.

  “We are not armed, my good man. I merely need to speak to one of your passengers.” In a loud, ringing voice, Lord Richard called out Cressida’s name.

  The other passengers gazed at her with a mixture of alarm and interest. Embarrassed, Cressida tried in vain to shrink back against her seat, but then the stagecoach door opened and Richard stood before her.

  “Miss Lockwood,” he said formally, although his eyes were merry. “I have something for you.”

  He took from his pocket a white feather and handed it to her. “You gave me this when we first met and you thought me too cowardly to undertake what you had planned for me. If you do not have the courage to continue on the path that we have begun, I shall be forced to call you craven.”

  Now the guests were watching in rapt fascination as if they were attending the theatre. Cressida, her face burning, looked at Lord Richard helplessly. “My lord,” she began. “I am on my way back to London, to my father, and to my work. That is my place.”

  “Cressida, I really do not wish to propose to you on the highway with an audience. I would much rather do so in private, with your father’s blessing. Now I demand that you get out of this coach or I shall brand you a coward. We must hurry to London so that I may meet with your father and ask for his permission to marry you. Will you leave the coach now, or must I carry you out?”

  “You are making a spectacle of me,” she said, aware that all eyes were on her.

  “So I am. But there will be more eyes gazing upon you when we exchange our wedding vows, so I suppose you had best accustom yourself to it.”

  He held out his hand. Hesitantly, she took it and accepted his help in descending from the coach.

  Lord Richard’s gaze consumed her with an expression of delight, pride, and the ownership of a man who prized what he had attained. “Up on El Diablo now,” he commanded. “He will carry us both to London. Rheims is our chaperone.”

  “I do not ride, my lord,” she said.

  “In this,” he replied, taking her into his arms, “I am the tutor. But if you persist in calling me by my title and not by my name, I shall make you walk to London.”

  “I cannot sit astride a horse, not in these skirts!” she said, aghast.

  “My love, we shall be riding so quickly that no one will have time to gaze upon what are undoubtedly most alluring ankles.” He held out his hand. “El Diablo is fond of you. He and I have reached an understanding. He knows that he threw me once. He knows that I will not let him do so again. We are in accord. I have chosen for my wife a woman who can, should she choose, throw me. But I will give her no reason to do so. Are we in accord?”

  She raised her head to find that lips were waiting. “Rheims, oblige me by fastening your gaze upon that tree yonder for a short time.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Rheims said, grinning. “It’s a fine tree.”

  “Now, Cressida, we have time for a kiss before we make our way to London. Pray do not waste any time in protesting or we shall be delayed.”

  She let him embrace her, his arms strong around her, his kiss a pledge of strength and love. She kissed him in return, marveling at what was transpiring. He broke off the kiss with an expression of triumph.

  Helping her onto El Diablo, Lord Richard instructed her. “Sit like so, and I will ensure that you do not fall.” He got up on El Diablo, taking the reins and keeping her solidly between his arms. “To London and to love!”

  Lord Richard requested Cressida’s hand in marriage just as he intended and the two were married in three months’ time. They had a momentous ceremony which ended with the beautiful couple being whisked away into the sunset, on a carriage led by El Diablo.

  The End

  Second Chances

  Chapter One

  Biker gangs. What comes to your mind when you hear ‘biker gangs’? I bet I can guess: Wild sex, drugs, guns, and violence, right? Well, maybe that’s how most people see it, but it’s a little different when you grow up around them.

  My name is Kisha Monroe and I am a child of one of America’s largest biker gangs. Most people assume that biker gangs are out for trouble. Movie scenes of kidnappings and dangerous drug transactions flash before their eyes.

  Now, don’t get me wrong, a lot of them are filled with sick, demented bastards ready to screw, shot and pound on anything moving, but some of us consist of a descent group of human beings, made to be tough by our environment.

  My father was an amazing man. His name was Brian and he raised my brother and me to be strong leaders because he knew that one day we would take over the gang. Damien is my older brother, and since he was the oldest he took over leadership of the gang, but that didn’t mean I was sidelined and left to do nothing.

  Ever since I was a little girl I’d been fascinated with the weapons my dad kept around the house. I started going to the shooting range when I was ten and had my first knife collection by the time I was thirteen. My dad never stopped me either. He thought my interest in the weapons
was a useful skill to have and so he let me go about my business with little to no interruption.

  Just because we were trying to do good for our community, didn’t mean we had no business being violent. Weapons and fighting were a necessity. Whoever said ‘violence is never the answer’ has obviously never dealt with a guy whose been beating his wife and kids every day for the past ten years, or a rival gang trying to take over their territory.

  The world isn’t sunshine and butterflies and the sooner people figure that out, the better off they’re going to be. The thing people often ask us is “why didn’t you call the cops?” Well because sometimes the cops can’t do anything.

  We have a silent agreement with the police in Nashville. We keep things quiet, don’t draw too much attention to ourselves, and we can take out the trash without any interference from them. We help the cops by dealing with the shit they don’t have time to deal with. It’s a pretty good system. They turn a blind eye to our activities and we clean up the town.

  And of course shit hits the fan. I’ve had to learn to take a few major punches over the years. The worst being a blow that hit me before I even turned eighteen. My father was killed by a rival gang soon after my seventeenth birthday. My brother was twenty-one at the time and took over the gang seamlessly. He didn’t think twice about it because he didn’t have a choice. Gangs are a lot like the military. There’s a strict order to things and without someone in charge, everything tends to fall apart. So Damien became the leader.

  What about me? Well, I was put in charge of all the training and weapons. I didn’t mind. Leading the gang never had any appeal to me. I was a fairly quiet person and I liked keeping to myself. Many of the men in the gang were terrified of my silence, and I was told a few times that I was intimidating. My steel eyes and jet black hair gave me an intense look and my petite stature was deceiving. I was quick on my feet and good with heavy artillery. I had been one of the snipers when Damien’s girlfriend (now wife) was kidnapped.

  My intensity and silence led to a rather lonely life. People stayed clear of me and I didn’t really interact with too many folks outside the gang. Did I mention everyone in the gang seemed to be scared of me? There was only one man who seemed brave enough to interact with me. Ryan.

  Ryan had been my best friend when we were kids. He was tall, blonde, and beautiful. His full lips and emerald eyes made me weak in the knees, though I would never admit it out loud. I always saw my attraction to Ryan as a weakness. He made me stumble on my words and drop my knives. I could have taken anyone in this damn gang, but Ryan got to me.

  We stopped being friends around the time my dad died. It hurt that someone I was so close to would abandon me at such a critical point of my life; I felt betrayed. He started flirting with the other girls in the gang and didn’t say a word to me after my dad’s death. He would toss me the occasional sideways glance but it always seemed to be more wary than a look that acknowledged someone. I hated that look. I hated that he looked at me like I was a snake in the grass. It fucking pissed me off.

  Despite the fact that everyone around me seemed to think I was a stone cold bitch who never wanted to be around anyone, I had the same desires as any other woman. I wanted a family and children, and I wanted to be in love. Even though I fought those emotions on occasion, I knew that at the end of the day, I wanted what every other woman in the world wanted.

  When Damien met Chloe and they had their first baby, those desires became even stronger. I wanted what they had and watching them achieving their dreams was making my biological clock tick. Even though I was only twenty-one, I felt like my time was running out and I didn’t like that feeling.

  Instead of confronting it head on and trying to talk to Ryan about everything that had been going on, I kept to myself, kept to my guns, and buried myself in work. I decided that I was just going to forget him and I was going to forget about those stupid wants and needs that were nagging at the back of my brain. I was just going to become the best damn fighter this gang had ever seen.

  Chapter Two

  The truck rumbled loudly and I guessed it probably needed an oil change. I had a bike like every other member of the gang, but when I traveled with other people and with my guns, it was easier to take a truck. I could take multiple weapons without risking safety, and also Chloe was with me today.

  When she first joined the gang I was rather cold to her. I was jealous of her beautiful blonde hair and smooth skin. My own arms and legs were marred with scaring; it was just something that happened when you grew up in a biker gang. When I was younger I would scuffle with the boys and wrestle with them, wanting to prove that I was just as strong as they were. It continued on into my teenage years and between the fighting training and roughhousing, I was left with scars that marked my pale skin.

  When I looked at Chloe even now, that jealousy had a tendency to crop up occasionally, but I managed to push it down far enough that we were able to become good friends. I liked spending time with Chloe. She was a good woman and a good mom. Plus, she made my brother happy and that’s always a great way to get on my good side.

  As we came to a stop in the parking lot of the shooting range, I glanced over at her and hummed. “Is Damien watching Mariana?”

  Chloe nodded and pulled out a light weigh .32 caliber handgun, glancing down the sight. “Yeah. He’s been running around all week with his friends so I told him it was my turn to get out of the house,” she said with a grin.

  I chuckled and pulled out a high powered rifle from the bed of the truck and glanced over at her. “You sure you want to start with the .32?”

  Chloe had always been rather scared of the guns and I’d only recently been able to convince her to go to the range. She understood nothing about caliber or power and I knew it was going to get her in trouble.

  She looked down at the gun, as if she didn’t understand why she might want to reconsider her choice. I watched her and knew exactly what was going through her mind. She was thinking that the gun looked small and harmless compared to the .22 rifle I’d tried to give her.

  She smiled at me and shook her head like I knew she would. “Thanks! I think I’ll stick with this!” she sang, going over to one of the booths. We put our ear protection on and she looked over at me as I started to set up the stand for my gun. I was working on accuracy today.

  “Hey, Kisha?”

  I glanced over at her and took my ear plugs out. “What’s up?”

  “Have you been okay lately?”

  Oh Christ. She wanted to talk about feelings. I picked up my gun and started fiddling with it in order to busy myself. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know…I just thought I’d check on you. You’ve been more reclusive lately and when you come to visit you always look sad when you hold Mari.”

  She was right about that. I’d been doing my best to mask that sadness, but apparently it wasn’t enough. I closed my eyes a little and sighed. Holding Mariana made me realize just how badly I wanted the things Chloe and Damien had. I wanted a family and I wanted unconditional love. Was that too much to ask? But those feelings seemed so trivial and so far out of reach.

  “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately. I guess I look sad when I’m thinking,” I murmured, setting the gun back on the stand.

  Chloe set her gun down and walked around to my booth, throwing her arms around me and squeezing me rather hard. I was a little surprised by the sudden show of affection but I wrapped my arms around her in return and sighed.

  “I’m okay, Chloe. Really, just thinking a lot,” I assured, patting her back.

  “As long as you’re sure,” she said softly.

  I nodded and she went back over to her booth, picking the gun up. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. I liked Chloe, but I still had very little patience.

  “Safety is on,” I murmured.

  “Oh! Right! Thank you!” She clicked the safety off and held the gun back up, aiming for one of the targets.

  She fired th
e gun and yelped when it jerked her hand, the kickback surprising her. She missed her target completely and I poked my head around the side of the booth. “Are you sure you don’t want to use the .22?”

  “But the .22 is bigger.”

  “Bigger gun but it has less kick,” I said.

  She looked confused and I sighed. “Just wait here, okay?” I said, going back to the truck. I got the right gun and took the .32 from her. “Try this.”

  She frowned but leaned over onto the little wooden stand, steadying her weapon and taking a deep breath. I could tell that she was preparing herself for whatever kick she thought the gun would have. She fired and actually hit the target. It wasn’t a good shot, but at least it was a hit. She pulled back and looked at the gun for a moment, her eyes wide.

  “I did it,” she whispered. Suddenly she grinned brightly and pointed at the target “Look! I did it!”

  I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Very good, Chloe. Now try and get closer to the center.”

  She did as I told her and I watched with a certain amount of pride. Chloe’s training had fallen to me and I took great pride in knowing that she was improving. I watched her carefully, helping her improve her shots one by one, but even as I helped her, I couldn’t get her words out of my head. Maybe I was depressed.

  Chapter Three

  We stayed at the shooting range until the sun started to set. When the darkness made it impossible to see, we started packing up our things so we could head back. Chloe closed the bed of the truck and looked over at me.

  “We’ve been gone about five hours?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Just about.”

  She sighed and shook her head. “I wonder how much sugar Damien’s given Mari.”

  I smiled a little and laughed. I knew my brother had one hell of a sweet tooth and it seemed he was trying to instill that same vice into his child.

  “If he’s loaded her full of sugar, you should let him deal with it and come to my place for a glass of wine,” I suggested.