Page 29 of Lemon Cake

“Mmhmm…” he teased.

“Do I get a hint?”

“No, but you’ll like it.”

“Alright,” Gemma laughed suspiciously. “How was your day? Getting more nervous by the minute for Saturday?”

“I should be mentally preparing but all I can think about is you staring at my ass.”

“Me and thousands of other Bullriders fans.”

“True, but I don’t care about them. Ido, however, care about you.”

“And now you’ve made me look like a tomato, right before I have to go in and get Dan.”

“Are you at his school already?”

Gemma sighed, not wanting to hang up. “Unfortunately.”

“Well, be home by eight-thirty and then call me, alright?”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Talk later.”

The line beeped as the call ended, and it left her with a warm fuzzy feeling in her chest. Gemma squealed like a teenage girl over being… claimed by Rider. She loved how open and sure he was.

Dan was already bouncing in place, waiting for her outside the school. That excitement faded quickly when she drove by the park without stopping.

“Where are we going?”

“Home, so you can clean your room like your mother asked you to yesterday.” He sunk into his seat, a long-frustrated sigh filling the air and Gemma chuckled toherself. “Your mom and I do talk, you know?”

“Fine,” he pouted, crossing his little arms across his chest.

Gemma loved him to pieces, but he was testing limits more and more these days. Not so much with her, but definitely with his mother. It was natural for his age, but it didn’t make it easier on Gina. Her job was incredibly stressful and Dan’s misbehaviour didn’t help.

Once Dan finally cleaned his room, she let him choose what he wanted for dinner. As they were washing dishes and waiting on the oven, Gina walked through the door.

“Mom!” Dan squirmed.

Gina pulled him into a hug and kissed his forehead. “How are you, my little goofball?”

“Good. We made dinner for you.”

“What a gentleman!”

“And I cleaned my room.”

“Even better!”

Gemma stayed long enough for dinner and to keep Dan occupied so Gina could take a long shower, then she raced home.

She nervously awaited her surprise, and hoped Rider himself would show up. Five minutes past eight-thirty, someone knocked on the door. She opened it, needing to mask her disappointment. A young man stood there, holding a bouquet of flowers and a gift bag in his hands.

“Ms. Levano?”

“That’s me.”

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