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Stepping closer, I clasp her arm, pulling her closer. “Yes.”
A little smile breaks across her face, and she cuts her pretty eyes up at me. “I’ll be careful.”
Reluctantly I shut the door and walk back to my own vehicle. Owen’s sitting in the second row with Zander galloping all over his lap. “Are we going to Gram’s now?”
“Yeah, we just have to follow Britt to her mom’s house. She’s leaving her truck there.”
“How come?”
“There’s no place to park it at her apartment.”And that truck’s a fucking death trap, I don’t say out loud. “She’s going to borrow Gram’s bike.”
“I like to ride bikes!” He hops onto his knees behind me, his voice growing louder. “Maybe we can all ride bikes together!”
“Sit down and put on your seatbelt. You’re spending the night with your grandmother, and Ryan and your cousin Pinky are coming over.”
“Yay!” He jumps his zebra in the air. “I’m going to show them my new card trick!”
My eyes are glued to the orange pickup in front of us that’s very obediently following all the rules of the road. “That’ll be fun.”
We finally reach her mother’s house, which is close enough to town that she could probably walk. I wait as she pulls her vehicle to the side and tucks the key in the visor.
My brow furrows as I watch her slowly walking back to the truck. She’s in simple jeans and a long-sleeved, white tee. Her blonde hair is in a ponytail on her shoulder, and a loose wave hangs just past her eyes on her cheek. I like to push it behind her ears when she’s sitting on my lap looking up at me. She’s so damn pretty, but she still seems troubled.
“Dad says you’re riding Gram’s bike!” Owen jumps onto his knees to greet her as soon as she climbs into the cab of my truck. “I have a bike, too! Maybe we can go for a ride one day!”
Her face relaxes into a smile, and she gives his hand a squeeze. “That sounds like fun! I haven’t ridden a bike since I was… Heck, I don’t even remember how long it’s been.”
“Do you still remember how?” Concern enters my son’s voice. “I can teach you. I just learned last year, so I know all the steps.”
“You never forget how to ride a bike.” I reach back to touch his shoulder. “Sit down and put your seatbelt back on.”
He obeys with a loud huff, but it’s short-lived. Mom’s house is only a few blocks from Gwen’s, and we’re there before he can finish doing what I asked. Alex’s Tesla is also parked in the driveway, and as soon as we stop, his four-year-old daughter Penelope bursts through the door to greet us, squealing all the way.
“Bubba!” she cries, jumping up and down at the edge of the sidewalk, waving her chubby arms over her head like a little pink cheerleader.
“Daaad!” Owen groans. “Make her stop calling me that.”
“I’ll try, but you still call her Pinky.”
“That’s because she’s pink! Her hair is pink, her skin is pink…”
“I think Bubba is sweet.” Britt bites back a grin as she looks from me to my son.
“I’m not her brother!” He growls as he opens the door and roughly climbs out of the truck, going straight to his little cousin. “It’sOwen, not Bubba.”
“Bubby!” Pinky throws her arms around his waist as if she'll try and lift him off his feet. He unhooks her hands and pulls her by one to the house, yelling for his uncle Alex.
“I don’t think she cares if he calls her Pinky.”
“She thinks Owen hung the moon.” I open the door, reaching back to grab his overnight bag. “My son, on the other hand, is going through a no-nicknames phase.”
Not even Froot Loop.
“It must be fun to have siblings.” She climbs out, walking with me slowly to the house, where she waits as I place the bags inside the door.
“It has its moments.”
My mother’s beach cruiser is parked behind her car. Last night, I drove by and went over everything, polished the seat, oiled the chain, checked the tires. It’s in pretty good condition, considering it hasn’t been ridden in years.
