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John laughed. “It does when you rock into town at the head of a motorcycle gang.”
“Club,” I growled.
John laughed. “Right. Club.” He twisted his wrist, miming avroom-vroomsound effect. “Too bad I missed him. Did you have a good time?”
I glared at Nash. “Yes, I did. With myfather.” I emphasized the last word.
His eyes went wide. His cheeks flushed. Did he have thatI want to crawl into a hole and diefeeling? Good. He deserved it.
“Your father, huh?” he murmured, clenching his fists.
“Yep,” I gloated.
Henry’s confused expression said,Are you sure you don’t know each other?
Out loud, he asked, “How long is your father in town for?”
“He’s leaving later today. Just passing through this time.”
All too short a visit, but I could forgive him that. My dad had sacrificed hisEasy Riderlifestyle to raise me alone. The custom bike shop he started to support us had been wildly successful too. But the moment I’d turned eighteen and started my first steady job, Dad had hit the road. He stopped by regularly, though, and every time he said goodbye, he spent a long time wiping his eyes — from dust, or so he claimed.
So proud of you, honey.
I’m proud of you too, Dad.
I truly was — proud and grateful. My dad was the best. Unconventional, maybe, but definitely the best.
I shot Nash another killer look.If you ever insult my father again…
His brownish-green eyes briefly met mine, then dropped to the ground.
Too embarrassed to face me? Good.
“You’ll have to pass on my regards to your father,” Henry said amiably.
“I will,” I said, forcing a smile.
“Well, back to work…” John said, ambling away.
Henry smacked Nash on the shoulder like a prize bull and picked up where he left off. “Nash has quite a resumé. This man is a pilot with years of experience.” Henry beamed at his fine catch. “Was that Army or Marines?”
“Marines,” Nash grunted, looking at no one in particular.
“Ten years,” Henry announced, smacking Nash’s shoulder again. A good thing the guy was built to take it.
“Marine pilot, huh?” Madden, Henry’s second pilot, came over, attracted like a bug to a testosterone-fueled light. “My father was in the Marines.”
I rolled my eyes, barely holding back,And you were not.
“Nice,” Nash mumbled.
“Ten years piloting, huh? Heck, we should get you to fly one of our balloons,” Madden crowed.
One ofHenry’sballoons,I wanted to snap.And anyway, no, because those flight hours are mine, not his.
“Happy to contribute any way I can,” Nash murmured in that low, rumbly tone.
“Attaboy.” Madden added his own firm smack of approval to the newcomer’s back.
