Big Bad Daddy: A Single Dad and the Nanny Romance

It was only forgotten for a moment, though. Another Yellowjacket found it, and he advanced on Tank, coming up behind him. He raised the blade, and Vanessa was sure she was about to see the man she was growing to love be killed. She grabbed the first thing she could, a beer bottle from under the bar, and threw it.

The glass bottle shattered when it slammed into the back of the man’s head, and he crumpled to the floor, knocked out cold. Vanessa felt sick watching that man fall to the ground. She didn’t know if minutes had passed or hours, but without warning red and blue lights flashed through the front windows as three cop cars came flying into the parking lot, icing up dust and gravel. The cops came into the bar with guns drawn, and the fight was over. Tank and the other bikers were arrested and carted off separately as more cop cars came to the scene. Big Tim was taken to the hospital and the bar closed. Vanessa went home, frightened and worried, wanting to hear from Tank.

Instead, when the phone rang just after four in the morning, it was Susan. “Big Tim is dead,” the woman said, and then she started crying. It was only then that Vanessa remembered Susan had mentioned dating Big Tim once, years ago. She hung up after trying to console the woman and found herself wondering if she would cry if any of her exes died. She wasn't sure she would. And then she wondered if she would be crying if Tank had died. She was pretty confident she would be. She really did care for the man. He had a heart underneath it all, one he was just starting to show her.

The other week he had opened up about his family. His father had left when he was a kid, and he lost his mother to cancer when he was fifteen. She told him about losing her own parents. They had something in common. He had kissed her then before he left her apartment, and it was soft and sweet and lingering.

The next morning she did get a call from Tank. He sounded tired, almost bored.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yeah. Can you come get me?” he said.

“What’s happening to you? They’re letting you out?”

Tank laughed. “Come pick me up and I’ll tell you.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.” Vanessa hung up and then splashed water on her face and got dressed, pulling on jeans and a T-shirt. She hurried out to her car, and within twenty minutes she was parked beside the county jail, rushing to the front door. She was let into a small room with white linoleum floor tiles and bright lights that buzzed audibly overhead. She signed a clipboard and told a grumpy looking man who sat behind a glass window who she was there to pick up. She waited for ten minutes, sitting on an uncomfortable chair and tapping her foot impatiently on the linoleum. Finally, there was a buzz and a heavy door swung open next to the glass with the grumpy man behind it. Tank was led into the room by a large man of about fifty in an ill-fitting guard’s uniform. She went to stand with her him while he was passed his belongings through a slit under the glass by the grumpy man. It was just his wallet, a pocket knife, and a pack of gum. Then he turned and smiled and swept Vanessa up into his arms.

“You all right?” he asked, and Vanessa laughed.

“Are you okay?” she countered. “You’re the one who spent the night in jail.”

“Old shit,” Tank said with a shrug. “Let’s go.”

She led him out to her car and laughed as she watched the man squirm uncomfortably while she drove to the bar so he could get his bike. He really wasn’t at home on four wheels, only on two it seemed. She asked him a few questions, but he didn’t really seem to want to talk, so she fell silent. She wondered if he was upset about Big Tim.

When they pulled into the lot, parking at the front of the Devil Dog, next to his bike, she had to ask.

“Are you thinking about Big Tim?”

Tank smiled softly and looked at her. He seemed to want to say something, but his lips remained touching for a long time. Finally, he shrugged and opened the door, swinging his foot out. She reached out and took him by the arm before he could get away.

“Talk to me,” the young woman said.

Tank looked over at her. “Thanks for the ride,” he said, and she pulled her hand away from his arm and he got out. She waited until he was atop his bike and had roared out of the parking lot without even glancing back at her before she put her car in drive and headed home.

Tia Siren's books