Daddy Protector: MC Romance (Pythons MC)

by Sadie Savage

  There was an address listed in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and I read and re-read the peculiar ad over again, my brain working fast. If I married the man who had placed it, then I couldn't be married to anybody else. My doomed fate to Mr. Plumb, who had known me since diapers and always made me feel a little sick when he looked at me, would be nonexistent. I would be able to make my own way, wife of a man who didn't seem to care what I thought of him or what he did.

  I knew Mr. Plumb was much different. He was always seeking attention and approval from the people around him, especially women like Mother and I. He, and everybody else it seemed, thought she and I were the prettiest women they'd ever laid eyes on. It would have been flattering but for the slew of marriage proposals that I received, setting my parents on a quest to make sure I was betrothed to Boston's most eligible bachelor.

  Unfortunately, Mr. Plumb was the wealthiest, and he had known my father for many years. When Father was just a boy, Plumb had apprenticed him as a banker and done him a great kindness, launching him into a wealthy career. I grew up in a fine, luxurious home with a wealthy father and expensive tastes because of Mr. Plumb's interest in my father. And so when he asked for my hand, Mother thought it only appropriate to return his kindness by handing me directly over.

  I could tell Father was reluctant, but soon he agreed with mother's logic. Mr. Plumb would officially be a part of our family, elevate our level in society, and see to it that I was well-kept. Poor Father would be devastated when he realized I was gone, but maybe he would understand how much I hated Mr. Plumb. He hadn't liked the idea of sending me off to marry him at first, we all knew of the man's monstrous habits, especially toward women. I doubted he would question my reason for wanting to escape. The whole thing gave me a headache the longer I thought about it. Instead, I turned my thoughts to my destination, a wind of excitement fluttering in my chest.

  The Sierra Nevada Mountains. I had heard many tales of the west as a girl growing up and had dreamed of going there ever since I was a child, but I had been so sheltered from anything outside my town that nothing could prepare me for the realities of country living. I knew it would be rough and tumble, but that was all part of the allure. I was excited and confident even though I knew it could be difficult for me to adjust. Either way, I knew that a life of adventure and mystery would be better than a lifetime of living out the role as Mr. Plumb's obedient little wife. That's not the life I imagined for myself. Instead, I had always longed for adventure, and a chance to move out from the restrictive life I lead for an opportunity to finally live on my own terms. That's what the ad had promised.

  I had to take the chance that a new life in the mountains would be better than the life I lived at home. The man I was meant to marry there might just be better than Mr. Plumb – chances were low that he could be any worse. I was eager to live the types of stories I had always heard from travelers and friends of the family who had been able to enjoy areas of the countryside that I could only dream of, and decided from that point on to keep my focus on the trail ahead of me and to never look back.

  Chapter 2

  I wakened from a deep, unsound sleep to discover that the train was pulling to a stop in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. My heart thudded quickly, and I hoped that the man, who signed his letter with the mysterious initial, “B.,” had received my correspondence telling him I'd bought the ticket and was on my way. He had mailed me a letter with the fare for my train ticket and a generous amount as a stipend, claiming it would be dangerous to travel with any more money than that and that I would receive my full payment upon arrival. He was right, of course. A lady traveling alone was just asking for trouble. I kept to myself and tried to ensure that I wouldn't stand out, keeping the curtain on my compartment drawn.

  Now that I had finally arrived, I felt nervous and briefly reconsidered the safety of my actions. I had just enough money for a return ticket back to Boston, but there awaited an even worse fate. I could take up with a group of hobos and run away, where I didn't know, but my looks were certain to attract danger to myself in that scenario as well. I had one last chance to change my mind, or change my life forever.

  I took a shuddering breath and stood on shaky legs, walking toward the exit of the train with the small suitcase of belongings I had packed. “B.” had told me I would be provided with plenty of outfits if I wanted to travel light, and so I'd only chosen the best two dresses I owned and a few personal affects to bring along with me on the journey. The bag was light but burdensome, and the conductor tripped all over himself to help me carry it off the train, setting it tidily beside my feet as he walked off to tend to other passengers. His eagerness brought attention once again to my attractiveness, but I had no time to think anything of it, good or bad, as I was nearly sick with nervousness.

  Suddenly, a clear voice rang out from the crowd.

  “Daisy Adams?” he asked, with an intoxicating southern drawl. Gooseflesh on my arms stood out, though I couldn't put my finger on why.

  I nodded dumbly, unable to locate the face that belonged to the voice in the crowd. Soon, I was looking into the broad chest of a tall man in flannel. He looked down at me and I gaped in disbelief at his kind, handsome face. His eyes were narrow, the brightest shade of blue I had ever seen. He had a strong and philosophical look about him. I imagined he spent a lot of time working with his hands and exploring the stunning scenery of the mountainside. Of all the people I had imagined meeting when I answered that ad in the paper, this exceedingly masculine man wasn't even on the charts.

  He tipped his hat to me and I saw black locks of hair brushing his forehead. He wore his hair pulled back in a ponytail behind his head. He offered his hand to me and I reluctantly took it, unsure of what to expect. He brought my gloved hand to his lips, and I felt their warmth press through the fabric. It sent a private little thrill through me and I felt a flush creep across my cheeks as his face creased into a smile.

  “Name's Blake, ma'am. Blake Turner. I'm sure glad you got here safe and sound. Was your trip all right?”

  He didn't wait for me to respond before he lifted my suitcase easily and began moving through the crowd, expecting me to follow. My eyes roamed his lithe body, thoughts of what brides and grooms are meant to do on their wedding night fluttering through my mind. I'd heard plenty about it back home from a bold old woman named Mabel. My parents didn't much like my keeping her company, but I loved listening to her sordid tales every chance I got.

  “Trip was fine, thank you,” I said, a little frustrated that he didn't turn around to face me when I spoke to him. It was as if he had no manners. Still, I could tell he was focused on the task at hand, and I exhaled deeply, telling myself to try to take everything one moment at a time.

  “Nobody tried to be indecent with you did they?” he asked, his long strides pausing for a moment.

  “No, I kept to myself,” I answered, looking around now that we had gotten out of the crowd. I froze in my tracks, unable to believe my eyes. The last twelve hours of nightfall had been too dark to see, and around six in the morning I'd fallen into my fitful sleep. It was about four in the afternoon now and suddenly the sky had opened up to reveal the most incredible landscape I had ever seen. The beauty of the Sierra Nevada Mountains against a bright blue sky and the fresh, crisp air suddenly brought tears to my eyes. He hadn't noticed, thankfully, and I attempted to compose myself as he led me to his wagon.

  The horses stirred when he saw us and he greeted them cheerfully.

  “There's my girls,” he said privately to them, a bright smile lighting up his face. He put my suitcase in the carriage and helped me into the seat before climbing in beside me. As I gazed around, I realized that everybody in the crowd had suddenly gone quiet, and for some reason they were all watching us. I gave them a confused but friendly smile, unsure of what to think about their attention. Blake tipped his hat mysteriously toward the townsfolk, his face blank, almost challenging. They all avoided his gaze and scattered back to their own business.<
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  As he stirred the horses into moving, I noticed him shake his head to himself. He seemed to sense me watching him and turned to face me.

  “You'd think they'd never seen a pretty lady before,” he laughed. “More to the point, they've never seen one with me, that's for sure. In fact, I'd never planned on marrying to be honest.”

  We rode quietly together as I mulled this over. Finally I couldn't help but ask.

  “They...so do they think you're...strange that way?”

  “In what way, darlin'?” he asked.

  “You know...” I had heard the word before secretly from Mabel but had never said it aloud myself. “Homosexual.”

  He looked at me for a moment, a puzzled expression on his face, and then laughed loudly.

  “Well aren't you bold? Shoot no! But they do think it's awfully suspicious that I keep turning down the women folk out here. I'd like to keep to myself but can't have that happening with everybody checking in on me all the time, bothering me about my personal business or asking me when I'll settle down.”

  I wondered what exactly his “personal business” consisted of. I figured that as his wife I would find out soon enough. The thought gave me butterflies and I pursed my lips expectantly, waiting for my answer. He had grown quiet for a moment and squinted toward the horizon before turning back to me.

  “Some of the men here don't like me. They see the way their wives or daughters look at me. Treat me like some kind of a threat. I figure that with you here, their worries will simmer down some. Maybe they can put their hackles down and stop worrying I'll snatch up one of their girls and stop targeting me for their anger quite so much.”

  Looking at Blake I could see why the men would be fearful. Not only was he was unbelievably good looking, but beneath his ruggedly handsome looks he also seemed to have a gentle tone and temperament that any woman would love. But he didn't want love, that's what the ad had said. I was just there for appearances, and I could keep to myself and do as I pleased. It was an arrangement I could certainly be happy to work with.

  I began to look forward to the journey ahead of me, and leaned back in my seat to enjoy the open air as we rode in Blake's wagon toward his home.

  Chapter 3

  “Welcome to my humble home," Blake said with a nervous smile. “We're not man and wife yet, so you can stay in the guestroom. After that, we can figure out what to do, depending on how you're comfortable. We can just pretend to stay in the same room if company is over. That way you can just get settled into the guestroom and have your privacy and I'll have mine. I built it for whoever answered that ad. Since I promised your freedom, I intend to stay true to my word. That's the proper thing to do."

  I smiled privately to myself, happy that I was with such a gentleman. If I had been married to Mr. Plumb, I knew that having my own bedroom would not be an option. I would be forced to spend all my time around a man who wanted me all to himself. That would have been the most miserable thing on earth for me, so I was glad to know that Blake was different.

  “Just so you know, I cook for myself. But if you'd like, I would like to make dinner for the both of us tonight. I'm sure it's been a long trip. You can eat however you like, or you can feel free to join me. We can be friends, we don't just have to be strangers since are going to be living together and all. I don't mind getting to know you. I just don't want to make you uncomfortable or blur the lines.”

  “All right, sounds pleasant," I said to him as I looked around.

  His home was exactly the kind of place I had pictured during all of my fantasies about the West. It looked as if he had built it himself, and it was large and spacious but small enough to be cozy at the same time. There was a big common room with two bedrooms built across from each other. He had cut large windows into the side of the walls so that we could look out over a beautiful mountain view no matter where we were in the room. He had settled in the prairies at the foot of a large mountain and had the best of both worlds in his area. The atmosphere felt warm, as if I were home already. Inside it smelled like cedar wood and I noticed a small pile of logs by a black iron woodstove that was used for heating and cooking.

  “Do you mind doing chores, Daisy?" Blake asked me.

  “Of course I don't mind doing chores," I told him indignantly. I had done plenty of chores at home, mostly helping mother with the sewing. I figured that was all he had in mind.

  “How about you stoke the fire and get it roaring so we don't freeze to death tonight?" He said. “I'll start supper while you do that.”

  I opened and closed my mouth, my heart fluttering in panic. I had never started a fire before. But of course if a man was able to do it, I could do the same. All I had to do was figure out how. Blake disappeared out the front door and went down to the cellar to fetch some food. I had to sit inside with the wood stove trying to figure out how to start the fire.

  I grabbed a poker from the corner and stood there looking at the wood stove. I picked up a log and tucked it under the other arm, and then stuffed it into the wood stove. I began poking furiously at it, trying to remember what my father had done whenever he needed to start a fire. I had been fairly sheltered in my father's large estate, and tried my best to make sure to steer clear from anything that could have been considered man's work. My mother was horrified anytime I showed an interest in what my father was doing, so I had learned early on to avoid anything that my mother might scold me for. She was a very unpleasant woman when she set her mind to it.

  I groaned in frustration as I poked the log with a stick. Nothing was happening, I was doing something wrong. Suddenly, I heard a low rumble of laughter coming from behind me. Blake sat down a bag of potatoes and onions and approached the wood stove.

  “What in the world are you doing, girl?" He asked me.

  “What's it look like I'm doing?” I snapped. "I'm starting a fire.”

  “Not like that you're not," he laughed. "Let me show you how to do that so that you'll know for next time."

  I was humiliated and embarrassed, but his laughter was contagious and made me feel at ease.

  “Don't worry, we all start out not knowing a thing. First of all, that log is way too big to start anything.”

  He pulled the log out and set it beside the wood stove.

  “Second of all, I like to hide my fire. Watch."

  He took a handful of little sticks that I hadn't noticed beside the log pile and tossed them inside the wood stove. He took the poker gently from my hand and began to stab at the ashes, stirring them around until I saw smoke. The little twigs began to combust and soon they were burning into a decent sized fire.

  “Once the fire gets to be about this size, you can put the log in," he said, handing the log back to me with a grin.

  I nervously approached the wood stove and pushed the log inside, backing away quickly as ashes rushed out at me. He chuckled that my apprehension and shook his head.

  “I guess I didn't take into account I'd be getting me a city girl," he laughed heartily. “Don't worry though darling, we'll teach you a thing or two about country living yet.”

  I wasn't sure whether to be offended or flattered by his kindness, and so I didn't say anything at all.

  “Do you know your way around a kitchen?" He asked, gesturing toward the potatoes. I nodded, and we set to work side-by-side, peeling and cutting potatoes for supper. It was comfortable but it was quiet, and neither of us really knew what to do from there. It was strange being so near to his sturdy, strong body, and we were working seamlessly together as a team to prepare our meal. It was strange how comfortable I felt working with him. He made me a little bit nervous, but more than anything he made me feel very safe and secure.

  When dinner was ready, he led me to a wooden table, unlike any table I had ever dined at in all my life. It was as if somebody had chopped a tree in half and set it on some sticks. And it was kind of dirty. He saw me staring at it, and a worried look flickered across his face.

  “You don't like it, do you?"
He asked me, the frown setting deeper into his face. “We could eat outside if you want. I can make you a new table. I never mind some fresh air or a chance to work with my hands."

  “It's not that at all,” I lied. “I've just never seen a table like this before."

  “Well don't that beat all," he said, shaking his head. “You're probably used to something a lot better than all of this."

  He gestured toward his home, seeming to feel a little bit self-conscious. I suddenly felt terrible and gritted my teeth. I wish I hadn't looked at the table at all or had any of those cruel thoughts about how many meals may have been spilled all over the wooden surface.

  “I love it here,” I said firmly to him, looking him straight in the eye. “It'll just take some getting used to, but I'm willing."

  He eyed me for a little while longer before sitting down to eat at the table.

  “I made this one pretty fast," he said. “I never expected anybody else to eat with me here. I know it doesn't look the best, but I wasn't trying to make it look good. I was just thinking about functionality.”

  “You don't have to defend your work to me," I said, sitting down and pulling my plate close to me.

  I didn't realize how hungry I was until I smelled that food, and I picked up my fork. As I dug in, I became conscious of Blake's shoulders shaking silently. At first I wondered if he was crying about me insulting his table, and I worried that maybe I really had thrown my lot in with a homosexual. I didn't mind if he was, I just wished that he would be honest with me about it. Slowly however, I realized that he was actually laughing.

  “I think you'll come to like the country here,” he said. “Even if you don't know how to make the fire yet, I reckon you'll be able to feed yourself in no time.”

  I gave what I hoped was an evil glare, but we both laughed. I knew he was right. I didn't follow the same kinds of rules that most of the girls in Boston did, and I had a feeling that I would begin to love the country almost as much as Blake did. Whether I was born there or not, the West felt as if it was my home and I was excited to be able to express myself freely with somebody who would not have any expectations of me at all. That wasn't something I could have experienced with Mr. Plumb, or any other man back home for that matter. I was very grateful to be in Blake's home that night, and when he showed me to my bedroom and pulled out extra blankets so that I wouldn't get cold, I studied his handsome face, wondering just how close I was going to be with my future husband.