“I’m pretty sure that was a nightmare.” I covered my mouth as I laughed, grateful he hadn’t made whatever this was awkward with sexual innuendo. “Psychological warfare. She’s possessive over the cookie table.”
“Extremely. I never eat the snickerdoodles because I know she loves them.” His gaze lingered on me. “No matter how much I liked snickerdoodles, I wouldn’t try to take something that belonged to someone else.”
Romeo pushed away from the table. “We need to head back to the shop.” He leaned over Rosie and kissed her cheek.
When Ryatt stood, I did, too. “I’m glad you’re here,” I said. “I was going to text you tomorrow. Nitro is having another track day this Saturday. We start early with setup.” I tucked my fingers into my back pockets. “We could meet somewhere and ride out to the track together.”
“Sounds good.” His gaze shifted to Romeo.
With his fingers in Levi’s hair, Romeo plundered her mouth.
We stepped out of the room to give them privacy.
“I’m glad Mike, uh, Romeo, asked me over for lunch,” he said.
“For gourmet tuna casserole.”
“Because I got to see you.”
I wasn’t blind. There was an attraction between us, which was why it was good Cruz promised to be at the track. “Cruz will be with me on Saturday. I mean, for everything. The ride there, volunteering, the cleanup.”
He smiled, and my heart kicked into second gear. “I know you have a boyfriend, and that he’s a Heller. I’ve seen you on the back of his bike. I’m eventually going to get to know him since I’ve reconnected with Romeo. I’m cool, but if my being there makes it weird for you, say the word.”
I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “No. I’m good. About seven. My dad always has bagels and donuts for the early volunteers, so don’t worry about breakfast. He’ll feed you.”
Romeo came up beside me. “Thanks for today,” he said and kissed the side of my head.
I smiled. “I just mixed the ingredients. The recipe was all Levi’s.”
“I wasn’t talking about lunch.”
“Don’t thank me for being here with Levi or for holding Rosie.”
His gaze drifted to the kitchen. “Sundays are our day.”
“Fuck, dude,” Ryatt interrupted. “Then you should’ve told me no. I can figure out my bike.”
Romeo slapped him on the back. “Nah. Levi’s good with it. I’ll make it up to her.” He wagged his brows and pushed Ryatt out the door.
Ryatt spun and took a few steps backwards as he called out to me. “See you Saturday.”
Once Levi put Rosie down for her afternoon nap, I rode home and grabbed a shower. Mom had a roast in the crockpot, and my dad was out in the garage working on his bike.
I didn’t live on a farm, but it was sort of a ranch about ten miles out of town. Not in the city, but not quite rural. I think my dad could’ve been happy in the city, but my mom, Linda, was a country girl and couldn’t live without her chickens, her horses, and a couple of mean-as-hell goats that incessantly maaed and bleated at her from their pen near the house.
Not only was she an equine veterinarian specializing in rehabilitation, but she boarded dogs. Generally, the horses were at our property for extended stay-cares. Dogs were short-term and a pain in the ass. Working for the family business came with its own set of complications, but I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
“Are you staying for dinner?” my mom asked as I came down the stairs.
“Yep.” I hugged her from behind as she peeled carrots. Most people would throw them in the crockpot with the meat, but the potatoes were already roasting on their own in the oven, and she’d do the carrots the same way.
“You can go see if your dad needs your help in the garage. Will you send in your sister? She’s been his shadow all day.” She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Dinner won’t be ready for about an hour.”
The massive garage was more of a workshop. The main floor was divided into two sections. My mom’s medical equipment and stuff to run the boarding business on one side, and a work area with tools on the other. But the second level had been converted to a mancave. Mom had her goat pens, a barn for her horses, and her chicken coops. Dad had a hundred-and-thirty-inch TV on the wall, two recliners, a loveseat hide-a-bed, a wet bar, and a fridge stocked with beer and Mountain Dew.
And he had his bikes.
Today, he had his old Yamaha TW200 torn apart. The bike was slow as hell, rode like a tank, and never failed when he needed a bike to get around the ranch. I’d learned to ride on it. I learned the hard way. The bike had fat tires, a clutch that I had to stomp into first, and a kick start that kicked back.
