Page 18 of Declan's Dove

“I do hope Ms. Dupree is all right,” she says, handing my ID back. Her brows raise expectantly, as if I’d tell her shit even if I knew. Instead, I tell her the same bullshit Violet told Ethan.

“She’s home, sick from work. I’m sure she’s just resting and had her phone turned off.” I don’t have a fucking clue if Violet is home or sick, but my gut says she’s neither. Carter’s confused expression only serves to further my suspicions.

Carter follows me outside, his eyes lighting up when he sees my bike.

“I get to ride on your motorcycle. Sweet.” He takes off running for my bike and I chuckle.

“Hold up a minute, kid. We need to go over the rules first.” He skids to a stop just before his hands reach the seat. He holds them up and turns to face me.

“Sure,” he says, standing tall as he tightens the straps on his backpack, rocking on his heels.

“First, we need to put my helmet on you. It’s going to be a little big, but it’ll have to do for now.”

“What will you wear?” he tilts his head, curious.

“I don’t need a helmet. But I’m already going to get a verbal lashing from your mom when she realizes I put you on my bike and not in a cage. So, do us both a favor and wear the helmet. Maybe she’ll be a little less pissed if she sees I at least took the time to protect your head, yeah?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Motorcycles scare her.” She seemed to be fine with it after the ride we took yesterday. She was still nervous on the way back to work, but I chalked it up to the conversation more than the bike.

“Good man. Now, you’ll need to hold on tight to me. Since this is your first ride, you can hang on to my waist or hold on to my shoulders. But you hold on tight, got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Once you get used to it, you’ll be able to hold on to the seat.” His eyes sparkle and his smile widens at the promise he’ll get to ride again. “Third, you sway when I sway. If you don’t follow my movements, we’ll have problems.”

Carter nods enthusiastically. “Yes, sir.”

I step close to him, ready to put the helmet on him, when he quietly asks, “Do you think my mama is okay? She wasn’t sick this morning. But she told me you might pick me up. But not this late.”

“Sorry about that, kid. I must’ve missed a message telling me to get you today. It was pretty busy at work today.” I hate lying to the kid, but I don’t have enough information to know what I should or shouldn’t say.

Leaning down with my hand on his shoulder, I look him in the eye. “How about this? We’ll ride over to your house and see for ourselves. She told Ethan she was feeling sick this morning. Maybe she went to bed and slept through her alarm to get you.” I doubt it, but I don’t have any other ideas that would be suitable to tell a kid without proof. Besides, there’s no reason to worry him any more than he already is.

I put my helmet on his head, and it looks ridiculous, but he doesn’t care. He thinks he’s the shit and I’m going to let him believe it. I climb on first, then instruct Carter on how to climb on behind me and to keep his feet on the pegs.

“Is this what the guys mean when they say riding bitch?” Carter asks, and I can’t help the laughter that rumbles out of me.

“Yes. But you shouldn’t talk like that, kid. Your mama will have your ass, and mine, if she hears you say that.”

“But I hear Hawk say stuff like that all the time. And I wasn’t cussing at you. I was just asking a question,” he says, sounding so innocent.

“First, Hawk is someone you look at and determine what not to say, not the other way around. He’s not what you would call a good example. And while I get that you hear me and the guys talking like that all the time, your mom doesn’t want you saying shit like that.” I reprimand.

“Do you cuss around your mom?” Carter asks.

Smart kid.

“Hell no.” The lie slides off my tongue easily. My mother’s heard far worse, but I’m not stupid enough to tell a kid it’s okay to swear around his mother. Especially when I’m trying to get her to trust me and take a chance on this thing we’ve got going on between us.

“Listen. Sometimes men say things, they talk a certain way around other guys, but we don’t say those things in front of our mothers. It’s disrespectful.”

Carter tilts his head as if thinking over what I’ve said. “You mean like a guy code?”

“Sure. We’ll go with that.”

“Okay. So, I can curse around you and the guys, but not around Mama.” I see him smiling in the mirror.

Little shit.

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