Page 7 of My Bad Boy Valentine

Mom pursed her lips, as she always did when she disapproved. “I’m sure you think you see the best in him, but boys like that rarely stay reformed, Caroline. You shouldn’t get involved. Don’t be naive.”

The condescension in her tone lit a fire in my chest. “He’s not a boy,” I retorted, rising from my seat. “He’s a man doing everything he can. Doesn’t he deserve the same courtesy you’d give anyone else?”

Dad lifted his palms in a placating gesture. “Sweetheart, calm down. We’re not attacking you. We just don’t want you to get hurt.”

But I was already near tears, anger and hurt fighting in my throat. “You treat me like I’m a child,” I spat, voice shaking. “Like I can’t decide who’s worth my time. Maybe if you gave him a chance, you’d see there’s more to him than your stereotypes.”

Mira stood, stepping closer. “Caroline, wait…why are you so upset? It’s just dinner, we’re just talking…”

“They don’t even listen,” I snapped, my eyes stinging. “I’m done with this tonight.”

Before anyone else could speak, I spun on my heel and marched to the front door, ignoring my mother’s protest and my father’s exasperated sigh. My emotions twisted in a painful knot: embarrassment that Mira saw right through my defensive emotional reaction, anger that my parents were so quick to judge.

I grabbed my coat, yanking it on, and slammed the door behind me. The frigid February wind felt like a slap, but it was better than staying inside that suffocating house. I hurried to mycar, each breath coming in ragged, angry puffs. My appetite had vanished along with my composure.

Behind the wheel, I let my forehead rest on the steering wheel. My heart pounded, tears threatening to spill. For years, I’d meekly shrugged off their judgments and let them label me as the unassuming baby of the family. Tonight, I refused to let them dismiss Knox Slater—or me—so easily.

At last, I turned the key in the ignition. The engine hummed, and I pulled away from my parents’ neat little world, heading toward my own quieter apartment in town. As the darkness of the Montana evening surrounded me, I allowed my mind to drift back to Knox—his guarded expression, his surprisingly gentle voice when talking with me about Linzie, the husk in his tone when he mentioned teenage hormones.

Something told me that everything was about to change. For me, for Linzie, for Knox. Maybe I wasn’t ready for the upheaval. But for the first time in a long while, I felt a spark of confidence that said: This is your life, Caroline Belle. Time to live it on your own terms.

Chapter Four

Knox

I knew I was in trouble the moment Caroline Belle walked through the door of my cycle shop with a determined look in her eyes and Linzie’s school file clutched against her chest. I’d been elbow-deep in engine grease, finishing a brake job for a local kid who’d already left me three voicemails about “needing his bike ASAP.” I was sweaty, my hair sticking to my forehead, and my ragged shop T-shirt smelling faintly of burnt oil. The sight of Caroline in a mauve wool coat, dark jeans, and knee-high boots stopped me cold.

“Hey,” she said, stepping carefully around a discarded muffler on the concrete floor. “You busy?”

I snorted. “Always. But I can spare a few minutes.”

Caroline’s gaze flicked to the chain pulley I’d left half-disassembled on my main workbench. I liked to keep the place tidy, but the last hour had me searching for a missing bolt and inadvertently rearranging half my tools. Meanwhile, the overhead lights hummed, casting weird shadows on the cinderblock walls. It didn’t matter. Caroline looked like an angel, and I felt about as far from holy as a man could get.

“I wanted to talk about Linzie,” she said. “Is this a bad time?”

I exhaled. “We can talk. Just, uh—maybe not out here.” I glanced down at my hands, black with grease, and realized I must look like I’d crawled out of the underside of a broken car. “Actually, come on upstairs. It’s slightly less messy.”

She nodded, offering a small smile. “Sure.”

I led her to the back corner of the shop where a narrow metal staircase climbed to the apartment overhead. Linzie was at school for after-hours band practice—something she’d insisted on attending, to my shock—so I knew the place was empty. Still, the idea of taking Caroline up there made my pulse skitter. I didn’t have a lot of space, and what I did have was more functional than presentable. But she didn’t bat an eye as we reached the top landing, stepping inside my little sanctuary with quiet curiosity.

“Sorry,” I muttered, shoving aside a pair of old boots near the door. “It’s not exactly HGTV material.”

She shook her head. “Don’t worry. I’m used to clutter—my sixth graders leave trails of chaos everywhere.”

I grunted a laugh, relieved she wasn’t judging me. “Let me wash up, at least. Grease doesn’t pair well with conversation.”

Caroline set her files on the small kitchen table. “Of course.”

I ducked into the cramped bathroom, turning on the faucet and scrubbing vigorously at my hands with an industrial-grade soap. My reflection in the mirror revealed a tired face—dark hair matted to my forehead, faint lines around my eyes.You look like you’ve been wrestling an engine block all day, I thought wryly.Because you have. After a minute of thorough scrubbing, I managed to get most of the grime off. I dried my hands on a threadbare towel, feeling a flicker of embarrassment that Caroline might see the fraying edges.

When I re-entered the main room, she was standing by the makeshift kitchenette, peering at the battered coffee maker I’d rescued from a yard sale. “Would you like a coffee?” I asked, a bit awkwardly. “I only have the cheap instant stuff, but it’s… well, it’s something.”

She turned to me with an apologetic smile. “Actually, I’ll just have water if that’s okay. I had a latte earlier, so I’m coffeed-out.”

Relief eased the tension in my chest. I’d been half-dreading the moment she’d realize all I could offer was stale instant coffee that tasted like burnt cardboard. Grateful, I grabbed a clean glass and filled it from the tap, handing it to her carefully. She took a sip, looking around the small living area.

“It’s nice,” she said gently, eyes settling on the worn couch. “Cozy, I mean.”

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