Page 14 of Wolf

I look up at Artie, laughing. “Are you a puppy? Puppies don’t eat hamburgers.”

My son looks at me like I’m crazy. He points out the window and repeats, “Woof!”

I turn to look, expecting to see a dog out there. And then I realize Artie’s not saying woof, he’s saying Wolf, because the man himself has just got off his bike and is heading in our direction. The bells over the door jangle to announce his arrival. He stands there, arms crossed, tapping his foot while waiting to be noticed and seated.

My heart jumps up into my throat, and I sink down in my seat, hoping he won’t notice us. It took hours for my lips to stop tingling after he abruptly kissed me on the porch. I don’t know what I’ll do if he looks at me with those burning eyes of his.

“Wolf!” Artie shouts.

Heads turn in our direction. Warmth climbs up the back of my neck. I reach to my son. “Don’t yell, Arthur James. It’s not polite.”

Artie leaps out of his seat before Mom or I can react and dashes through the crowded diner, dodging around a man walking back from the bathroom. He yells out again and throws his arms around Wolf’s thick denim-clad legs.

Wolf whips his head around. Seeing Artie, his tense, rugged features soften and he reaches down with one huge hand to lightly touch my boy on his shoulder. Seeing them that close, the likeness is unmistakable. It’s only a matter of time before people notice.

He says something I can’t hear, and then Artie is tugging him over to us. I can’t help but feel a warmth flooding through my chest as I watch them together. More people are watching now, including some of the bikers, as a tiny boy drags a giant of a man over to our table. The bikers all look amused.

“Artie, let him go, please.” I cover my blushing face with both hands. “Wolf, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” He sounds baffled. I risk a peek between my fingers, relieved to see he isn’t mad at all about basically being kidnapped.

I can’t tell what else he’s feeling, if he wonders why my son is obsessed with him. Artie doesn’t know the truth about his father. I don’t think he ever showed much interest in motorcycles. I can’t help but wonder if it’s normal childhood curiosity or if somehow he’s drawn to a father he doesn’t even know?

“Would you like to sit and eat with us?” Mom asks.

I shoot her a sharp look, which she ignores, or maybe doesn’t notice at all, oblivious to everything. I thought she would surely know there was tension between me and the man I used to date.

At least Wolf looks uncomfortable. He shuffles on his feet and looks over his shoulder. The other bikers pretend they weren’t watching, probably more to save their own skins than to spare him any embarrassment. I’m sure he doesn’t take much shit from them even though they’re like his brothers.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Don’t you want to be alone and have family time? I’d get in the way.”

“Nonsense,” Mom scoffs, while Artie tugs on Wolf’s hand and begs him to sit.

Wolf looks to me as I sit there in silence. I know that I’m outnumbered. It’s not like I don’t want him to join us. It’s the fact that I really do want him to sit down and eat with us that tells me it wouldn’t be a good idea. Unfortunately, turning him away isn’t an option at this point.

I think turning him away wasn’t an option from the second Artie saw him outside.

“Sit with us,” I say.

His lips split apart in a grin. Artie switches from tugging to pushing, digging his slight shoulder into Wolf’s hip. To my horror, he’s shuffling Wolf to my side of the table. “You sit with Mommy, okay?”

“Only if Mommy promises not to bite,” Wolf growls.

“I don’t usually. I might make an exception for you.” As soon as the words are out, I realize how he’s going to take them. His grin growing even wider tells me I was right. I turn my face away and scoot deeper into the booth until my side crams against the wall.

Wolf slides into the booth beside me. I have no idea if he’s intentionally sitting close to me or if he really takes up that much space. All I know is there’s only a few inches between us, not nearly enough to allow me to breathe properly. I tense, holding myself stiffly upright.

Artie gets back into his spot next to Mom, looking as happy as a clam. This is turning out to be a very good night for him. He’s getting everything he wants. I wonder if this is the start of him getting spoiled.

Our timid, harried waitress returns, noticing that we have another party member. “I’ll bring another menu.”

“No need. I know what I want,” Wolf says. The deep thrum of his voice seems to shake the bench we share. “Bring me the biggest steak you got, and a baked potato loaded up with everything.”

The waitress’s hand trembles as she uses her pen to jot down his order. In the city, they use tablets. The old-school way has more charm, I think. “A-and to drink?”

“Coffee. Black.”

The rest of us place our orders and the waitress makes her escape.