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“It’s gonna need a lot of work,” Joel said.
Cam squirmed in her seat.
“I don’t care. I’ll do all the repairs myself.”
I made a noise of dismay.
“Hold on a minute, you two. Cam, we’ve talked about this. You don’t even have your driver’s license yet. You’re not getting a motorcycle.”
If I had my way, Cam would never have a motorcycle of her own, but I knew that was like holding back the tides—an impossible battle I was certainly going to lose.
“Mom, this is adirt bike,” she protested. “Not a motorcycle. It’s totally different.”
“She has a point,” Joel said.
“You’re not helping,” I countered.
“I’m just saying. It’s illegal to ride a dirt bike on the road with other vehicles.”
Joel piled fresh, steaming pancakes onto a plate, arranged a generous portion of bacon on the side and handed it to me.
“That doesn’t make me feel better,” I pointed out. “She can still ride trails where she could break her neck.”
He shifted closer and lowered his voice for my ears alone.
“It’s an old bike. Even with repairs, it won’t have much speed. And I already bought her a full suit of riding gear. Fully padded.”
Joel’s fatherly concern softened my worries a little bit. He was always keeping an eye on Cam, looking out for her.
A horn honked outside. I pulled away from Joel to look out the window. A tow truck parked in our driveway with ROOSTER’S GARAGE printed on the side. On the back of the truck was the ugliest rusty death trap I’d ever seen.
“Looks like your new project is here, kiddo,” Joel said.
Cam whooped and shoved away from the table, grabbed her bacon, abandoned her last pancakes, and raced out the door.
“Thanks, Dad! You’re the best!”
Joel went still, the spatula in his hand frozen in mid-air. Then he shook his head with a small smile. I turned around, leaning back against the counter as I looked at him.
“You like the sound of that, don’t you?” I said softly.
Joel glanced at me and the tips of his ears turned the slightest shade of pink. He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug.
“Yeah. I really do.”
“Would you like to be calledhusband, too?”
Joel stared at me. Without looking away, he turned off the stove, shoved the pans aside, and set the spatula on the counter. He shifted to stand in front of me, lowering his gaze as he untied my bathrobe.
I only had a t-shirt and panties on underneath. Joel slid his hands inside my robe, slipped beneath the hem of my shirt, and curved his big, warm palms around my hips.
“I always wanted to propose. You beat me to it.”
Draping my arms around Joel’s neck, I nuzzled against him.
“I was the one who didn’t give you a chance to stay before. It’s only fair that I ask you to stay now.”
I took Joel’s hand and moved it to my stomach.
