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I let my head fall forward between my arms as I take in a deep, shuddering breath. I will myself to not lose control as I straighten.
Lifting my head, I lock eyes with Carson. He seems to instinctively take a step back, his gaze flickering to the fury burning in mine.
“Did it not even occur to you to ask me first?” I prop my hands on my hips and advance toward him. “Before you volunteered our son for a joyride on that… that…” I struggle to find a word that adequately expresses my feelings. “That death trap?”
Carson has the grace to give me a sheepish look. “I’m sorry. Honestly, our entire family rides, so I didn’t even think—“
“That’s right. You didn’t think!” I cut him off with righteous indignation. “He’s ten years old, Carson! Ten! What happens if there’s an accident? Motorcycles offer zero protection!”
“I bought him a helmet—“ He cuts off his sentence the minute he realizes his words just added fuel to the flames.
“When? When did you buy my son a helmet?” I realize my mistake the minute the words leave my mouth. Carson, who was on the defense, suddenly stiffens. “Your son?” he questions in a sharp voice, his eyes like chips of ice. “He’s my son too, Anna. In case you’ve forgotten.”
My shoulders suddenly slump, “I know.” I say quietly, my voice losing its earlier venom. “It’s just… you can’t just promise him things without consulting me first. And this is dangerous.”
He nods and runs a hand through his hair, his shoulders tense. “I bought the helmet today. I wanted it to be a surprise. Asked the guy at the store what size to get while Connor was looking at shoes.” He glances at me, his face devoid of emotion, “I had planned to show it to you first, but when Connor saw my bike…” He gives an apologetic shrug.
“I get it. I do,” I say, raising my hands in a gesture of surrender, “It’s just… I don’t want to be the bad guy. The over-protective parent, who now has to tell him no.” I feel my anger dissipate, replaced by a wave of exhaustion.
A flicker of understanding softens Carson’s features. He steps closer, his voice gentler now. “You don’t have to be the bad guy, Anna. We can figure this out together. Maybe we can find a compromise.”
His words offer a lifeline, a way out of this emotional storm. Perhaps there is a way to negotiate this new reality, a way to balance safety with the desire to give Connor a taste of adventure.
“Maybe,” I reply, a sliver of hope returning to my voice.
A hesitant smile touches Carson’s lips. “Sounds like a plan. Now, how about we put these clothes away? Being a parent is hard work.”
A reluctant smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to make this crazy, unexpected family we’re building together - work.
It’s just beginning to darken outside as I steal a glance in my bathroom mirror. A satisfied smile spreads over my face. I like the way my new outfit hugs my curves perfectly. Sometimes, I feel like everything I own screams ‘Mom.’ But my new black jeans and halter top don’t even whisper the word.
I shake out my hair, letting it cascade down my shoulders. My silver earrings shimmer as they catch the light. Three coats of mascara later, my eyes are accentuated by a touch of smoky eyeshadow. A hint of blush and a touch of shiny lip gloss complete my transformation. I feel confident and attractive. Feelings I haven’t embraced in a while.
When I expressed concern about Connor at a biker bar, Carson assured me that it’s upscale, and besides, he and his brothers used to hang out there when they were teenagers. I thought about pointing out that Connor isn’t a teenager but held my tongue. The man is already compromising on the motorcycle ride; the least I can do is put on a good face.
Walking into the living room, the conversation comes to a halt. Connor’s eyes widen in surprise. “Gosh, Mom, you look amazing!”
A warmth spreads through me at his compliment. “Thank you, honey,” I reply, trying to ignore the heat of Carson’s gaze.
Connor’s outfit is jeans and a T-shirt. Carson, standing beside him, practically oozes charisma tonight. His low-slung jeans hug his hips in a way that makes my breath hitch. His black T-shirt paired with the leather jacket screams bad boy charm. I discretely watch his masculine strides as we leave the apartment.
Connor, seemingly oblivious to the unspoken tension, casts a wistful glance at the Harley before clambering into the backseat of the SUV.
Pulling into Chase and Val’s driveway, the garage door stands open, revealing Chase leaning against his motorcycle. Val emerges a few minutes later, a playful glint in her eyes as she hands Carson the keys to her Spyder.
“Take good care of my Bella, Carson,” she says with a teasing lilt in her voice.
“Absolutely,” Carson promises. He then turns his attention to Connor and assists him in securing the new helmet. Across the driveway, Chase throws a leg over his Harley, a picture of biker cool.
Thankfully, a quick Google search earlier today reassured me about the Spyder’s safety features compared to a traditional motorcycle. Small victories, I remind myself.
Val and I head to her SUV, and she states, “Bonnie’s watching Gabriella tonight. So, I’m treating this like a date night.” She says as she throws a kiss at Chase.
“Thanks, Val, for letting Carson take your Spyder. I know I’ll have to get used to the Knight family’s obsession with motorcycles.”
Val waves her hand dismissively. “Think nothing of it. I wouldn’t ride at all while I was pregnant. Safety first.” Her gaze flickers to me with a knowing glint. “So, I know you said there wasn’t anything serious between you and Carson. Pity, by the way. But you should know that the air practically sizzles whenever you two are around each other.”
I feel the heat rise in my cheeks, “We’re attracted to each other, but I don’t think Carson is willing to let go of the past.” I see the question in her eyes, and I hold up a hand. “That’s all you’re getting out of me for now.”
