Page 3 of Rocky

“Excuse me.”

I looked up at the stranger, getting a good look at him for the first time. He was absolutely gorgeous in a thuggish, ruggish way. Looking at all of his goodness almost made my lips curl into a smile until I remembered what I’d just witnessed.

I stood to my full height, still having to look up at him, and shoved his shoulder.

“How dare you put my son on your motorcycle without my permission?”

“Aye, I don’t know you, but you better keep those little ass hands to yourself.”

“You better keep my son off your bike, or I’ll do more than push you.”

The corners of his lips curved upward, letting me know he didn’t take my threat seriously.

“What’s your problem with bikes?”

“Are you stupid?”

“Excuse me? Who are you?—”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you, but since you don’t seem to have common sense, I guess I have no choice. Motorcycles are dangerous and definitely not for kids. I don’t want my son anywhere near them, and if I find out he’s been on that bike or any other bike around here, you’ll regret it.”

I grabbed Briar’s hand and pulled him away, not waiting for the man to respond. If Deacon ever found out Briar had been on the back of another man’s bike, I’d have hell to pay, especially since I forbade him to have our son on his bike.

When we entered the building, I instructed Briar to get his things while I checked him out. I had a few questions for the lady at the front desk.

“Hey, Ms. Abrams. You look flustered. Is everything okay?”

“Hey, Cinda. I’m fine. Thank you for asking. I do have a question, though.”

“What’s up?”

“Who is that man outside with the motorcycle?”

“I’m pretty sure you’re talking about Rocky.”

“Rocky? That’s his name?”

She nodded. “Yes. Rocky Rush. He’s one of the owners of the center.”

“This center?”

“Yes. Is something wrong?”

“Is it customary for him to give the kids rides on the back of his bike?”

“Yes, if he has their parents’ permission. It’s one of the ways he rewards them for things they accomplish.”

“Well, I didn’t give him permission to put my son on the back of his bike. He?—”

“That’s a lie. I made sure Briar’s permission slip was signed before we left,” Rocky announced when he entered the facility.

“I didn’t sign a permission slip giving you or anyone else permission to ride him around on that death mobile,” I argued.

“Cinda, can you give me Briar’s file?”

“Coming right up,” Cinda replied, disappearing into a small closet. “Here you go.”

Rocky took the folder from Cinda and opened it swiftly, and I watched him find the form he was looking for.

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