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But Harrison is on a mission that not even the promise of fresh-baked cookies can snap him out of. “Please,” he whines, his pulling turning to yanking. “I want to see.”
“Harrison,” I say, keeping my voice firm. Dropping down to his level, I place my hands on his shoulders, turning him until we’re eye to eye. “We need to go. I know you love motorcycles, and that phoenix one is very cool, but Momma has to work, and we need to get home. Maybe tomorrow afternoon we can take a walk down here so you can get a better look at them all, okay?”
His little face is set in an angry scowl, but after a moment, he nods his head and glances back at the phoenix motorcycle with longing.
A biker steps out of the store just behind it, his hands filled with shopping bags, and several women filing out behind him. My heart skitters in my chest when I see TK from the Moose Knuckle Tavern.
He’s just as good looking in the daylight as he was under the florescent lights of the bar. And judging by the harem behind him, he knows how to use that to his advantage.
TK looks annoyed as he turns to face them. I don’t know what he says, but the girls just laugh and walk on by him, the last one pausing only long enough to pat him on the shoulder before they all disappear into the next shop.
Dropping his head back, TK stares up at the sky for a moment, then deposits the bags into a van down the road. I watch in wonder as he slams the back door shut and places his hands on his hips.
Seriously, why does he have to be so hot? I swore off bikers years ago, for good reason, and this is the first time any of them have ever piqued my interest.
“Momma, come on.” Harrison yanks on my hand again, but this time, in the direction we had been heading.
With a quick shake of my head, I tear my eyes away from TK’s rather perfect ass and resume walking toward home.God, Cora, you need to get laid.
The walk to our house is a short one, and inside, as promised, my mother is in the kitchen, pulling out a second sheet of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.
“Hi, Nana,” Harrison sings, climbing up onto the stool and reaching for a cookie on the cooling rack.
“Hello, sweet boy. How was summer camp today?”
“Good,” he mumbles around a mouthful of gooey goodness.
My mother smiles down at him, then turns her attention to me. “You’re gonna be late.”
Shit. “Right. Thank you.” I press a kiss to the top of Harrison’s head, and then one on my mom’s cheek. “His teacher said he had a good day, but he looks tired.”
“I’m not tired.”
“I’m working till close tonight, because it’s just me and Stella behind the bar. That is, if she even bothers to show up.”
Mom wraps her arms around me, giving me a tight hug. “He’ll be fine. Go, make some money, and be safe.”
“Bye, baby.” In response, he just waves and reaches for another cookie.
“No way, little man.” My mother is already turning to deal with him, leaving me to make my escape.
I chuckle when I hear him draw out a long, desperate, “Pleeeeeease,” just as I’m walking out the door.
Thank God for my parents. I don't know what I would do without them.
When I’d first found out I was pregnant with Harrison, I had never been more terrified. I was twenty-two, still living at home, and had no support from the baby daddy. Hell, I wouldn’t even have known how to get ahold of him if I’d wanted to.
I’d been so ashamed of myself, and was convinced my father would toss me out on my ass, but he hadn’t. He became my biggest champion, right alongside my mother.
Because of them and their love for us, Harrison will never know the unnecessary shame I had felt. And it had been unnecessary, because before him, I’d been adrift, floating from party to party, dead-end job to dead-end job, with no discernable future in sight.
Harrison had given me purpose. He’d given me a reason to get up every morning and put an effort into life. He’d given me lessons in selflessness and putting your child’s wants and needs first, no matter how hard that was sometimes.
Most of all, he’d brought me closer to my parents.
Mom and Dad had always been good to me, but for the majority of my youth, I never acknowledged that. I’d taken them and their love for granted. I’d seen the way my mother waited up for me when I went out, and it had pissed me off, because I thought she was being nosy and intrusive. Now, I know she was doing it because she loved me, and would never have been able to fall asleep until she knew I was safe.
I used to roll my eyes at the way my father would wake me up early, every Saturday morning, to go to the dump. I would wonder why the hell he couldn’t go himself, and why it had to be so damn early?
