Page 11 of Riding Wicked

“You first. What are you dreaming about?” I prod smiling up at him.

He rolls to the side and our gaze meets. “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking about, cupcake.”

He’s called me cupcake again. That has to be a good sign…right?

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you more when you were here before.” He sighs and scrubs his big hand over his beard. “I can be impulsive, and I didn’t trust myself with you.” He kisses my forehead. “Judging by that waterfall thing, I think I was right.”

My eyes shut and open slowly.

He’s still studying me. His hand lifts, and he brushes a strand of hair from my face. “Is it too soon to say that when all this is over, I hope we’re lying in bed together with a healthy baby boy and another one on the way?”

My pulse beats hard in my throat and my nerves tickle beneath my skin as I hum in approval. “In your fantasy, where are we?”

“Here in the mountains. You have that little flower stand you used to talk about. You still want that, right?”

I nod. “How do you know about that?”

“I overheard you and May talking at the diner one day.”

“Oh.” Was he listening to all our conversations? Was he indirectly trying to get to know me?

“Is that weird?”

I grin. “A little, but you’re right. I have always wanted to sell home-grown bouquets and handmade Christmas wreathes.”

His eyes light up as though the dream were his own. “You could run it right off the ranch. I’d build you a spot. When the baby isn’t with you, he could come with me and help out in the barn. At night, we’ll make dinner together, listen to the radio, and—”

“Dance in the kitchen.”

He grins. “Dance in the kitchen. I’ll hold you close, and I won’t let you go, cupcake. Not now, not ever. You’d be safe with me.”

For a second, I let myself feel his love, and it makes my heart happy. Maybe for the first time ever. Then, I remember where I am and why I’m here.

I lean up and rest my chin on Knight’s chest, my gaze on his as I say, “Do you think Axel’s right about my father?”

“Honestly?”

I nod.

“Yeah. I do. I hate that I do, but I do. Your father is a dangerous man. He’ll most likely hunt you down to get what he wants. And after seeing the way he handled you earlier, I’m not sure I believe he’d hold your life at much value.”

I swallow hard and roll onto my back, stare up at the ceiling, and try to stop my brain from spinning out of control. “You know all about my weird childhood, but what about you? How’d you grow up?”

“Me?Shit.My parents were both in the military, so I rarely ever saw them together. When my father was gone, my mother took over and vice versa. In between, I suppose I had an average childhood. Baseball cards, chores, loads of bike rides, etcetera. It didn’t get bad until they divorced, and my mother started seeing this guy from the Springs. He was into heavy duty drugs and my mom had seen some things overseas she was trying to escape from.” He looks away. “Nothing was right after that. She overdosed two years after they met. The last time I saw her she wasn’t the person I knew.”

“I’m sorry. Is your dad still—”

“No. He gave his life in combat. No one told me how or why, but if you knew him, it was because of his broken heart.” He lets out a sigh and shifts his weight in the bed. “I know because I joined the Army shortly after his passing and tried to do the same. I felt like I had nothing, and I put myself in increasingly risky situations in the hopes that I’d die doing something meaningful… and the pain would go away. But despite my best efforts, I survived tour after tour. Fortunately for me, I met the MC guys on a drunken bender during a two-week R&R, and they showed genuine concern for me. So, I didn’t re-up after my final tour and Rugged Mountain MC became my family.” He rolls his eyes and smiles. “Enough about me, though. What about you? I only know the basics.”

I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring toward Knight. I’ve never talked to anyone about my childhood out of shame, but he’s shared so much with me, I feel compelled to share back. “Well, you know my father. Imagine that but you’re five and you need a hug.” I laugh out of anxiety. “The one thing that’s always bothered me is that my mother took off when I was eight.” My stomach turns as I speak. “Well, at least that’s what I was told. He said it was my fault she left and that I needed to straighten up and act right or he’d leave too.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “But when I think about those days, I remember my mother was soft and kind. She loved me, Knight. I don’t believe she would have left without me. I don’t believe she’d have chosen to leave me with that man.”

Knight’s brows raise. “What are you saying?”

I pinch my lips between my teeth and meter my thoughts, deciding how big a leap I want to take. I glance toward Knight. “I’ve wondered for years if my fathermade my mother disappear.” Putting the words into the universe sends a shiver through me. I may have pondered that thought but I’ve certainly never said it, and saying it is a whole lot different from thinking it. Tears stream down my face. I try to ignore them, biting back the harsh reality of what my past may be, and who my father really is.

Knight holds me tighter. “What’s your mother’s name?”

“Morgan Mayfield. Why?”

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