That shut her up, a feeling he had to admit he enjoyed the hell out of. He moved to his bike and bent down to dig through his saddlebag. A moment later he pulled out a pair of chaps and tossed them at her. “Here, put these on. At least they’ll keep your legs warm.”
She caught them to her. “Thanks.”
Holding them out, she looked at the strange looking garment, and he could tell she had no clue how to put them on. He blew out a breath. “Come here.”
She did, and he squatted down in front of her. He wrapped the belt around her hips and buckled it across her pelvis. Then he wrapped each leg in leather and zipped each side up from ankle to thigh. They were too long for her, but at least they’d keep her warm.
They framed her crotch, drawing his attention to it, and thoughts of how her pretty naked ass had looked swam before his eyes. He glanced up and found her staring at him, wide-eyed, and he knew she’d caught him looking, knew exactly where his eyes had been aimed, maybe even knew exactly what he’d been thinking. Shit, he shouldn’t have thoughts like that about her. She thought of him as a big brother, and he couldn’t destroy her trust like that.
He looked away uncomfortably and mumbled, “Better?”
“Just peachy.”
He rose to his feet and made a move to step toward the door, but the touch of her hand on his arm stopped him. He looked back to see her looking up at him with big eyes, looking at him like she used to look at him when she was a child. Like he was her knight in shining armor. Like he could do no wrong. Like he could fix anything.
He remembered that look on her face when she was nine, and he was fourteen. She’d been walking home from school, and some bullies were teasing her. They’d cornered her by ol’ Man Walker’s picket fence. They’d knocked her book bag to the ground, and its contents had scattered all over the sidewalk. He’d come up and bloodied the biggest bully’s nose, threatening him with worse if he ever dared bother her again or if he ever told who’d hit him.
The boys had run off, scared shitless.
He’d bent down, wiping the tears from her face with the sleeve of his flannel shirt. She’d looked up at him then with those same big eyes. Thinking he was her hero.
Up until that point, she’d always been Tommy’s bratty little sister, the one who pestered them to no end, the one who was always tagging along, always being a nuisance.
But after that day, things changed, he was more tolerant with her, more patient. He’d begun to look out for her, to care for her like a real big brother would. It was a responsibility he took seriously.
He’d known she’d idolized him back then. Maybe even had a crush on him. But she was always just a little kid to him.
That is, until she grew up, and he began to take notice.
“Are we going to be okay?” she asked softly, shaking him from his memories.
He had no clue what the hell was going to happen with the Death Heads, but he’d die before he’d let them get their hands on her. He lifted his hand and cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, brat. Understand?”
She just stared up at him.
“You trust me?” he asked when she didn’t reply.
She nodded, but that wasn’t good enough for him.
“Say it.”
“I trust you, Billy.”
“Ghost,” he corrected. “I go by Ghost now.”
“Ghost.”
He studied her a long moment, and then nodded. Dropping his hand, he lifted his chin toward the wall she’d been sitting against earlier. “Get some rest.”
She sat as he moved toward the half opened door, dropping down on the floor next to it, leaning back against the wall to keep watch.
“When it stops raining will we be able to leave?” she asked.
He kept his eyes on the landscape. “Not until I fix my bike.”
“Fix your bike?”
He turned back in time to see her frown.