Page 13 of Until Landon
I want to say a sarcasticthanks for volunteering my services dude,but in this case he has done me a huge favor.
“No problem. You up for the bike?”
Barely forty minutes later we are in the wind. Riding along Lake View Road on the Fat Boy. The warm sun of May reminds me of teenage summers. But here, in this moment, Kim’s arms are around me and I am fairly certain braless breasts press against my back. Life feels every bit as good as seventeen did.Is that fucking optimism I hear?
Ignoring the hundred-year-old man in me, I get back to more pleasant things. Thinking about my riding partner works fine. The day started right. She isn’t the kind of girl who freaks out because she might get helmet hair. She twisted her long waves into some kind of bun thing and it stayed tucked. Mom’s red helmet, which fit perfectly, matches last night’s one-shoulder sweater. A person who believes in signs would think these details mean something cosmically. But that isn’t me.
With each curve and corner, arms tighten around me. Taking off on a straightaway, her head leans against my back for a moment. It makes me take a longer route than necessary in case she might do it again. I hope she knows I’m doing it.
The ulterior motive in bringing Dad’s bike was I didn’t have to come up with things to talk about. Kim’s good at it, but I have never been that man. Especially when only knowing someone for a short time. For me, the best conversations I have with people are happening inside my head.
The guy who lives there is confident and at ease. I can debate anything, give a stinging retort, or be vulnerable. Too bad nobody ever hears. A lot of me goes unspoken. With one exception. I have no problem showing my pissed side. That emotion I am willing to share freely.
Kim must have got me on a good day. Before we left the house, I made her laugh a few times at our mutual friends’ follies and got deep into a short but meaningful discussion about how great our childhoods were. And Dad wasn’t even in the room to fill in any gaps in conversation.
“Oh! Hunter’s home!”
Her voice lifts and she sits up straighter as I spot a white Honda, loaded with shit, sitting in the driveway. The loud rumble of the Fat Boy gets the attention of the guy getting out. If I’m reading his expression right, I would say it’s shock at seeing his mother on the back of a bike.
“I want to introduce you. You okay with that?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I pull against the curb and turn off the bike. She swings off as soon as the engine dies. The kid is as tall as I am, good looking and seems older than his age. By the size of his biceps he lifts. Opening his arms, there is a wide smile as Kim runs to him.
“Oh, baby boy! Welcome home!” She grabs the sides of his face, goes on tiptoes, and covers him with kisses. He doesn’t seem to be too annoyed. Most kids this age aren’t into PDA coming from their mothers. Or being called a nineteen-year-old baby boy. I don’t see the annoyance though.
“Hi, Mom,” a deep voice says.
Taking her in an embrace, his blue eyes stay on me. The shocked look has turned. He is sizing me up. Don’t blame you, kid. That is what you should be doing.
“Come meet Landon. He rescued your mother last night. I’ll tell you all about it when we get in the house.”
“Rescued you from what?”
He ignores Kim’s plan to delay the story.
Walking up, I extend a hand. A solid shake is returned.
“Meet my wonderful son, Hunter!”
“Hi, Hunter.”
“Hey.”
A man of few words. Works for me.
“Rescued you from what?” he repeats.
“I went to Dominique and Maxen’s party at Momma’s last night.” She points my way. “Landon’s father owns the bar. Long story short, a man followed me into the ladies’ room.”
“What! You have to be careful, Mom. Especially when you’re at a bar.”
He gets thewho do you think you’re talking to little boy I changed your diapers look,from his mother. She throws in an amused grin for good measure.
“I know how to handle myself, honey. And Landon and Wes immediately got rid of the guy. But I appreciate you being concerned. I do.”
The way she says it is kind of impressive. There wasn’t a hint of victim. It was all confidence.
