Page 63 of Full Throttle

“Whatever you want,” I said. “I’m having a cheeseburger platter. With onion rings. I’m not a big fry guy.”

Josh’s eyes grew round. “Me too. I always get rings. And a chocolate shake.”

“Good plan.”

And he smiled.

It did something to me, seeing his smile directed at me. I returned it with one of my own, and Cherry laughed. “I’ll have the same, but with fries.” She winked at Josh. “He always steals a couple of fries from my plate. You can too if you want.”

“Maybe a couple,” he replied with a shrug.

I had to laugh. He looked and sounded like a thirteen-year-old me. Trying to seem cool and unaffected when everything was chaotic around me.

And I liked it.

Conversation between Josh and me was stilted, but when it came to Cherry, she could draw him out. When I asked him a question, his answers were short, but at least he spoke. I was worried I would get the silent treatment. Cherry was able to get him to talk about his love of baseball and football. That he enjoyed running. He wasn’t into girls—yet. And he admitted he was a bit of a loner.

“We’ve moved a lot,” he admitted, beginning to relax.

“Why is that?” I asked cautiously.

He shrugged. “Usually ’cause Mom has a new man, and we follow them.” He rolled his eyes. “This one is a real winner.”

I exchanged a look with Cherry. “You don’t like him?”

“He’s lazy and treats me like a baby. Plus, he yells a lot. I hate that.”

“Ah,” I murmured. “Do you feel unsafe?”

“No. He’s just a jerk.” He crunched an onion ring. “Cherry said her boyfriend was a mechanic. I assume that was you?” he asked. “You work on cars?”

“I do. I help run a garage. I work on cars and motorcycles and assist with restorations.”

His eyes lit up. “Cool. What’s your favorite?”

“I love vintage sixties. Restoring those is my favorite. I like the older bikes too.” I paused. “We’re working on one right now in the garage. Maybe you’d like to see it.”

“Hell yeah.” He swallowed. “I mean, heck yes.”

Cherry chuckled, and I shook my head.

Josh grinned. “I’m not supposed to swear.”

“I hear you,” I replied. “Cherry keeps a swear jar. So does Charly. And her ears are like fine-tuned microphones. They pick up every one that happens in the garage.”

“Who is Charly?”

I picked up my milkshake. “Well, let me tell you…”

Josh looked over my shoulder. “Mom is here,” he announced, sounding almost disappointed.

I glanced at my watch. “Oh wow.”

Time had flown past. Once we’d gotten on the topic of cars and the garage, Josh’s demeanor had changed completely. He’d become engaged and interested. There was no attitude, only rapid questions, barely letting me answer before the next one was out of his mouth. He laughed and talked, no longer unhappy about being there with us. I forgot about our time limit, Halton in the corner, and everything else. There was simply my son and me with Cherry—sharing lunch and getting to know one another.

I stood, running a hand along the back of my neck, once again anxious. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen now. Josh solved my dilemma by sliding from the booth and meeting my eyes. “So, next week, do you come pick me up or what?”

Cherry slipped her hand into mine. “We’ll arrange it with Halton.”