Page 129 of Down & Dirty

“You like cutting it close,” Billy said, his face lighting up when he saw me. When I’d told him Sky and I were okay, he’d deflated so dramatically you’d have thought it was his relationship on the line. But I smiled at the guy now, enjoying the friendly face after being away for days.

“I’ve got another hour before the first heat,” I told him, slipping my bag under my chair.

He opened his mouth to respond, but then clamped it shut, looking toward the front of the bus. I followed his eye line and spotted Tommy standing with Micah in his arms. He was looking around the tent, but with only Billy and I there, he was searching real hard for nothing.

“Hey, bud,” I said, pushing up and going over to them.

Micah’s face lit up as he said, “Hi Cory.”

I held up my hand and he gave me a high five as his father scowled. “Missed you, kiddo.”

“Where’s Sky?” Tommy said, turning to put himself between me and Micah.

I looked around, seeing the same empty area he was still scanning. “Not here yet. I think Ronnie had an early interview. Last week’s top three really jumped him up on the lists.”

Tommy nodded, his eyes finally landing on me in a harsh glare. “Yeah, it’s good at least one of you is doing your job over here.”

The tone of his voice was so cold, even Micah frowned as he looked up at him.

“I think we’re doing just fine.” I fought the urge to rub his own shitty performance last week in his face. At least Ronnie and I had placed. Tommy hadn’t even qualified.

He sniffed. “Yeah well, let’s see if you can stay upright this time.”

The only sure thing in motocross was that everyone was going to fall at some point. It waswhen, notif. So, Tommy’s remark would have been easily laughed off it if didn’t immediately bring to mind Skylar’s tear-streaked face, the memory of the fear in her eyes lancing through me all over again.

I took a breath through my nose, fighting to keep my cool. Micah was already looking between us like he could tell something was wrong, and I refused to scare the little kid, no matter what Tommy did.

“I can take Micah till she gets here. Come on, bud, you can help me and Billy check my tires.” I smiled at him, seeing his eyes light up as he wriggled to get out of Tommy’s arms.

But Tommy didn’t let him go. He shifted, hoisting him up on his hip again as he shook his head.

“I’m not leaving my son with you.”

My head jerked back. I’d picked Micah up on my own a handful of times in the last few weeks, but it had always been Geena doing the hand off.

“What are you talking about? He’s fine with me.”

“I don’t even know you, man,” he said, huffing out a laugh, like I was overstepping and he was going to put me in my place.

“Micah and Sky know me just fine,” I said, grinding my teeth as I fought to keep my tone light.

“That’s not good enough,” Tommy spat, sticking his chin out at me, daring me to start something, even as he held his kid in his arms.

A shuffling noise came from behind him, and the three of us whirled around to find Sky’s parents standing there with scowls on their faces.

“Well, it’s good enough for us,” Grant Stone said, his tone firm. “Considering you and Geena aren’t yet married, but Skylar and Cory are, you might want to extend to him the same courtesy Skylar does you when it comes to who is capable of watching your son.”

“Geena loves Micah,” he said, giving Sky’s parents a grin that neither of them returned.

“And so does Cory.” Her father’s eyes landed on me, making my palms sweat. I nodded, and he tipped his chin at me with a smile. “And if we trust him with our grandson, you should too.”

Micah held his hands up and Mr. Stone scooped him out of Tommy’s grasp. He wrapped his little arms around his Grumpy’s neck and I let out a long breath. Tommy said his goodbyes and disappeared, the tension he’d kicked up going with him.

“Grammie, can we go get popcorn?”

“Sure can, sweetheart. Come on,” Darla Stone gave me a wink before she took her grandson’s hand and they headed for the concessions.

Mr. Stone let out a loud sigh, taking a seat in the chair beside mine, so I joined him. “I can’t keep track of how many times I’ve wanted to lay him out,” he said, scraping his hand down his face.

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