Page 18 of Cocky Secrets

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Coming with you.”

“No!”

Atlas stares at me, lowers the helmet, shifts his focus to Dad. “What the fuck.”

“It’s just me and your sister,” Dad grunts. “I hung out with you for a week.”

“That wasn’t ahang out.That was a mission.”

“Same thing to me. I haven’t seen her much. This is dad and daughter time.”

I beam, but when Atlas sneers, “Awww. How sweet,” I flip him off and take the helmet from our father. “I’m going to interpret that middle finger as you love me,” Atlas grins.

“If you like lying to yourself,” I wink.

He laughs, and watches as Dad mounts his beat-up black Harley, waiting for me to get on back, kicking down the foot rests for me. I climb on and realize it’s been years since I was on the back of a motorcycle.Fourteenyears since I’ve driven one myself. The wild anticipation of having one of my own rises, but I keep it to myself.

“If your mother asks where we are, tell her what I told you.”

Atlas tilts his head at Dad. “Why wouldn’t I? Wait…what are you really up to?”

“Nothing. Just what I said.”

“Are you lying to me, Dad?”

“Tell your mother we rode into town for fun.”

“Okay, now you’ve got me suspicious.”

Dad shouts, “Tell her what I said!”

Atlas throws up his hands. “Okay! Okay!”

“And make it believable! You know how to keep secrets. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that.”

Oh boy, does that shut Atlas up, and his face goes beet-red too. “Got it.”

We ride out of there, passing the plantation just as Denita starts to head inside from where she was enjoying her morning coffee on the front porch. She calls after us, “Where are you two off to?”

I shout, “Just driving around for fun. No big deal.”

She frowns, because Malakai was right.

I never do this.

When we’re out of earshot, Dad hits the electric gate opener attached to his handlebars, and says over the sound of the engine,“No big dealsounded suspicious.”

“I’m not good at lying!”

“That’s good,” he grunts.

Frowning, not sure I agree with him, I tighten my grip around his body, lean my helmeted head against his leather jacket that readsThe Ciphersin Old English font, and hang on for what is sure to be riding well past the speed limit, and on a beautiful sunny day. “We should do this more often, Dad!”

“We should.”

“Only without the lying.”

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