But the world?
The world didn’t need to know that I liked a biker.
Or that the biker was Cole.
Or that I had kissed him like I’d been starving.
I sat there for a second, frozen, then blurted, “I’m barely okay with the club knowing.”
Mom’s laughter softened into something gentler.She slid an arm around my shoulders and pulled me in, squeezing like she could physically press the worry out of me.
“Relax, honey,” she murmured.“It’s not that big of a deal.You like him, and he likes you.”
I swallowed again.“You’re okay with it?”
Mom pulled back just enough to look at me.“Are you okay with it?”
I felt my face heat, instantly.“That’s not what I asked.”
“That’s what I’m asking,” she countered.
I glanced away because my mother did not need to see the truth written all over my face.
But she did anyway.
“If I wasn’t,” I mumbled, “I sure wouldn’t have kissed him.”
Mom’s expression softened into something that almost hurt.Proud.Tender.Like she’d been waiting for me to want something for myself instead of being careful all the time.
“That’s my girl,” she said quietly.“I’m surrounded by bikers, honey, so I can see the appeal.”
Before I could respond, a voice carried from the kitchen area behind the bar.“Lunch!”Carnie called.“Come get it while it’s hot!”
The room shifted instantly.Phones dropped.Conversations paused mid-sentence.It was as if someone had rung a bell at recess.
Mom sat up straighter like she’d just been summoned by a higher power.“This is my favorite time of day,” she announced.
I laughed.“Of course it is.”
She stood and tugged me up with her.“Come on.”
As we moved toward the kitchen line, I couldn’t help the small, jealous sound that slipped out.“Here I am at home trying to make lunch, and you’ve got Carnie cooking for you.”
Mom shrugged, utterly unashamed, and slung an arm around my shoulders.“I mean, Icouldalways come home for lunch…”
I eyed her.“Uh-huh.”
“…but that might put a kink in your time with Cole,” she finished smoothly.
I stopped walking and stared at her.“Mom.”
She grinned like she lived for my suffering.
“You know,” I drawled, recovering, “I think it’s great that Carnie is cooking for you.”
Mom laughed, pleased with herself, and nudged me forward.
The smell hit us before we even reached the serving area.
