Page 5 of My Single Dad Biker

"Thank you for stopping. I thought they were just kids trying to steal something. I didn't think—"

"You thought you could handle it."

"Yes."

"You couldn't have."

Not cruel. Just factual. I should be annoyed but he's right and we both know it.

"I know that now."

He nods once. "Do you have a car here?"

"The blue sedan near the front."

"I'm driving you home."

Not a question. I start to argue and he says, "Katherine," and the way he says my name stops me. It's the first time he's said it out loud and it sounds deliberate.

"My car," I say.

"I'll bring it back tomorrow morning. Before school starts."

"You don't have to do that."

"Yes I do. You're not driving home alone after this."

"But how will you—"

"I'll figure it out. You're going home now. With me."

We look at each other. He's not going to move on this and I can see it in the set of his jaw. I'm also aware that my hands stopped shaking sometime in the last two minutes and I don't actually want to drive myself home right now anyway.

"Okay," I say.

"Get your things."

I grab my bag and check for my phone, then turn off the lights. Holt waits by the door and doesn't rush me. When I step into the hall he follows and I lock the classroom behind us.

The parking lot is quiet now. His motorcycle waits under the security light.

He walks toward the bike and I follow, my heart picking up speed again for a different reason.

"I've never been on a motorcycle before," I say.

He pulls a helmet from one of the saddlebags and turns to face me. "You'll be fine. I'll go slow."

"What about you?"

"I only have one helmet. You wear it."

"That doesn't seem safe."

"Four blocks. I'll be fine." He holds the helmet out. "Put it on."

I take it from him. It's heavier than I expected. He watches me fumble with the strap under my chin and then his hands are there, brushing mine aside, adjusting it with the efficiency of someone who's done this a thousand times.

"Too tight?" he asks.