Me
You don’t need to sign your texts, Pops. I know it’s you.
Pops
Smartass
Me
You sure you’re good? I can be home earlier if you need me.
Pops
I don’t need a babysitter.
I chuckle to myself as Hannah finds me.
“Ready,” she says, too distracted with the destroyed dress she’s folding over in her hands to notice how my gaze blazes up and down her body.
Foolish of me to think a few deep breaths and a lap around the men’s section would help block out the memory of what I saw back there. I was wrong.
Dressed in a pair of high-waisted leggings and a cropped long-sleeve shirt, I’ll never get this image out of my head either. A sliver of midriff peeks out above the waistband of her pants. Her shirt drapes off one shoulder to reveal a lacy black bra strap. I’ve seen too much lace on too much skin of someone who’s too much not mine to look at.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I’ve never been more thankful for a distraction from a beautiful woman.
Pops
- Norman
Sighing, I shake my head and stuff the phone in my pocket. “We need to grab one more thing.”
“How comeI don’t get a cool helmet like you?”
I give her a side-eyed smirk. “If Target were the place tofind ‘cool’ motorcycle helmets, I’d get you one.” As it stands, we’ve got a wall of bicycle helmets in front of us, so that’ll have to do.
She scrunches her nose. “Maybe I don’t need one at all.”
“Not an option.”
“God, you’re bossy.” The backpack we grabbed to store her dress and high heels lands at her feet as she pulls a helmet off the rack. “I guess you can be Ducati Batman with your muscles and all black get up.”
Hannah waves a hand over me. Black Henley, dark jeans, matte black helmet with a tinted visor—okay, she’s not wrong. I offer a shrug.
“Meanwhile, playing the supporting role of goofy sidekick is me,” she declares with a dainty smile, setting a red foam helmet on her head.
I snatch it away. “This won’t protect you against shit.” I grab a hard-shell black helmet off the highest rack. “Try this one.”
“Oh, look. More black.”
“Color of my soul.”
“The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. I’m proud of you, soldier.”
I grin and set the helmet on her head, thumping it down with my fist. Her head wobbles. “Cute.”
She cocks her head, props her hands under her chin. Her lashes flutter and something inexplicable aches inside my chest at the sight. If I ever see Tuxedo McDouche again, I’ll break his neck for whatever he did to hurt her.
In the parking lot,warm dusk sun settles around Hannah like a halo, her blonde hair glowing. It takes everything in me not to stare. I hike a leg over the saddle of the motorcycle while she puts her helmet on. Her fingers fiddle with the chin strap for several seconds.