I still wasn’t sure how Dax had talked me into the idea, except that many orgasms were involved. I loved motorcycles, but the thought of my baby riding one freaked me out. Giving him one that needed plenty of work had given me the time I needed to come to terms with how much he’d grown up.
Feeling nostalgic for the days when I’d listen in on their daddy and son time through the baby monitor, I pressed my ear to the door leading out to the garage.
“I figure you know better since I raised you right, but I’m gonna tell you to make sure there’s no confusion—no putting girls on the back of your bike.”
Ugh, it was one thing to come to terms with the fact that my son was old enough to have his license. It was something totally different to think about him dating, let alone wanting to give some girl a ride on his motorcycle. I held back from banging my head on the door and letting them know I was there because I wanted to hear if there was someone Grady had his eye on at school.
“I’m not stupid, Dad. I know that spot’s reserved for the woman I’m gonna make my old lady someday.”
As much as my heart melted at his answer, I wanted to storm in there and lecture Grady about how he didn’t need to think about finding his old lady for at least another decade.
“If you want to give your sisters a ride, that’s fine. Just make sure they wear their helmets and be extra careful while you’re on the road.”
Oh, good grief. How had I not thought about the possibility of the girls wanting to ride on their brother’s motorcycle like they did with their dad and me sometimes?
“What about Mom?” Grady asked.
“Your mom doesn’t ride on the back of anyone’s bike but mine.”
My panties grew damp at the steely determination in my husband’s tone. It didn’t matter that we’d been married for seventeen years and had three kids; he was just as possessive of me as he’d been when we first got together.
“Aww, c’mon, Dad. The bike was a gift from the two of you. The least I can do to say thank you is give Mom a ride on it when we’re done.”
I recognized the teasing tone in my son’s voice. He loved to push his dad’s buttons, and he knew exactly how to get a reaction out of him. Determined to save our teenager from himself, I turned the knob and pushed the door open. I stood on my toes on the landing to peer over my SUV to where they were working on the motorcycle on the other side of the garage. “Are you guys almost done out here? Grady still has some homework to finish up tonight.”
“You heard your mom.” Dax snapped the towel he’d been using to wipe his hands at our son. “You only get to ride this thing once we’ve got it running if you keep your grades up.”
“Yeah, okay.” Grady held his hands up in mock surrender. “It’ll take me all of fifteen minutes to finish my Algebra assignment, but I could use a shower anyway.”
“It’s probably a good idea to get cleaned up before you do your homework.” I pointed at his hands as he walked toward me. “If you leave smudges on the paper, your teacher might not be able to tell if you got the answer right or not.”
“Or I could just do what I did when I was little”—he climbed the four steps up to me in two long strides, holding his palms out toward me—“and treat your clothes like they’re my own personal towel.”
“Nope.” Laughter bubbled up my chest as I shook my head and stepped to the side, pointing into the house. “You ruined more than your fair share of my shirts by the time you were two. I’m not in the mood to change every few hours like I did back then. If you’re old enough to drive, then you can clean yourself up without getting me all dirty.”
Grady brushed a kiss against my cheek, being extra careful not to touch me, before walking past to head up to his bathroom. When I turned back toward Dax, he’d already made his way over to the bottom of the steps. Seeing the determined gleam in his green eyes, I backed up and shook my head. “Dax, no.”
“Yes, baby,” he countered as he strode up the steps and reached out to tug me against his chest. Unlike his son, he didn’t hesitate to put his grease-stained hands on me. “If anyone’s going to dirty you up, it’s gonna be me.”
He did such a thorough job of it that I was thankful for the extra water heater he’d put in because we ended up needing a shower by the time he was done, too.