Page 92 of Riding Hard

“That’s the police chief’s daughter. He may tolerate us being here, and he may turn a blind eye to a lot of shit we do here, but he’ll never be cool with our men being with anyone in his family.”

“Shit,” Elodie hisses.

“They’re just kids,” I murmur, shifting my attention back to the two kids.

It’s obvious she’s feeling out of place here and is very shy. It’s freaking cute as hell that he’s giving her attention, talking to her, and when she smiles, I know she likes it, too. Who wouldn’t? Cade is a mini-version of his father.

“Yeah, well, they’re getting to be that age, and I gotta shut this shit down now,” Slade growls.

Turning around, I lift my left hand, curling my fingers around his forearm as I tilt my head back and look up into his eyes. I hope that my expression is a pleading one, because that’s what I’m trying to convey here.

His chin is tipped, his gaze is focused on mine, but his face is set in stone. “Give them this party. She’s been over there alone and looking absolutely miserable until he brought her a cookie.”

Slade’s brows snap together, a muscle in his cheek twitches, and then he finally dips his chin in a single nod. He curls his fingers around my wrist at his arm and slides his thumb across the ink on the inside, the one that claims me as his to his club—his road name.

“I’ll do that for you, honey. But I’m going to talk to him tonight.”

“Okay,” I exhale.

He grunts as his nostrils flare, then he dips his chin, touching his lips to mine. He releases my wrist, taking a step backward—and makes an announcement. His voice booms over the kids’ music and pool horseplay.

“Alright,” Slade calls out. “Who wants burgers and who wants dogs?”

Just like that, the conversation is dropped, and his mood shifts. He’s still going to discuss this with Cade later tonight, but for now, a little girl is a little less sad, and my son did that. His sweet, gentle, take-care-of-everything nature did that. All the things he gets from his father did that.

The rest of the party goes off without a hitch. The kids are fed, watered, and sugared before they’re sent home. There is no drama, and by the time we head home, I hope like hell that Slade will drop the little-girl thing, but he doesn’t.

“Cade,” he calls out as he drives us toward home.

We helped clean everything up, and the pool party area is as good as new now. I was hoping Slade wouldn’t do this, that maybe we could just forget it all and not have this conversation, but here we are—conversating.

“Yeah?” Cade asks.

“I don’t want you hanging out with that little girl anymore, okay?”

There is a long moment of silence. I’m not sure what Cade is going to say, but I hold my breath anyway. He is usually a “yes, Dad” kind of kid and doesn’t argue much or cause any trouble.

“She needs a friend,” Cade murmurs. “The girls are mean to her. They tease her all the time.”

Without giving Slade a moment to respond, I whip around and look at him. “Why?” I demand softly.

“Because they say she’s fat, but she’s not. She’s really pretty, but she’s also really nice. She doesn’t deserve to be made fun of like that.”

Slade grunts. I shift around so I can look at him. I watch as Slade flicks his gaze to his rearview mirror, then back to the windshield to look straight ahead. A muscle in his jaw tics, then he clears his throat.

“Okay, Cade,” he exhales. “Just remember who I am and know who her father is.”

“I know who he is, Dad. I get it.”

The conversation is dropped, but I can tell it’s not something Slade is going to ever accept or be okay with. Clearly, he doesn’t want to make waves, and this could do that. I hope it doesn’t.

They’re kids, and Cade is trying to be a friend to this girl. I think it’s sweet, and it’s a testament to how good a father Slade is. And also, how very much alike they are. Cade wants to be this girl’s protector. Just like Slade is mine.

Reaching across the console, I slip my hand into his, lacing my fingers through his own. I feel his thumb slide across my tattoo, and my lips curve up into a smile. I love it when he does this. My skin breaks out in goose bumps. Then, he lifts my hand to his mouth, his lips brushing softly against the ink.

By the time we get home, Cade is dead tired. Too much fun in the sun. I get that. The sun wipes me out too, but today, I’m exhausted for a different reason. One that I’m still trying to wrap my head around.

I’ve been trying to keep from shouting my news from the rooftop, because while I’m excited, I’m also nervous as hell. I don’t know how he’s going to take it, and I don’t know how Cade is going to respond, either.