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Papa Noel
The silver fox biker lived on my street.
Staring up and into his dark brown eyes with little flecks of gold dancing in the dark depths, I was totally and completely mesmerized while simultaneously feeling cornered as the prey of a large hunter while a prowling lion closed in for the kill. A twisted grin appeared on his face as recognition lit up his eyes and then he frowned. That was when I noticed my son cradling his arm against his chest.
“Kid needs a doctor,” the biker announced, appearing concerned.
“Oh, Noah! I’ll grab my keys.”
I walked away in a rush, spinning on my heel as I ran for my handbag and keys, pausing to open the garage door. I didn’t have to tell the biker to meet me there. He was already inside after I noticed the empty doorstep and locked the place up. When I entered the garage, Noah was in the backseat and buckled in, his cheeks flushed, and his expression pained.
“Toss me the keys, honey. I’ll drive.”
I could have debated the whole thing, but I wanted to sit with my son anyway. Sexy silver caught the keys with ease, and I climbed into the back of my Rav4, immediately checking over Noah for more injuries.
“Where does it hurt? Just your arm?”
He shook his head but bravely held back tears.
There were scrapes across both knees and a deep cut across the same arm that didn’t look quite right. Blood was smeared on his clothing in a few spots.
“I’m sorry, Booga. I know it hurts. Let me see.”
Noah lifted his left arm and I paled when I noticed it wasn’t straight. I had injuries like this one before and it wasn’t an accident like my son’s. I was positive he broke a bone.
“Okay, keep it close and hold it with your arm but don’t squeeze.” My hand cradled his cheek. “I’m here. I love you and I’m not going anywhere.”
Noah sniffled and leaned his head against my shoulder. “My bike is all busted up.” He sounded more upset about that than his arm.
“We’ll fix it, kid.” The deep timbre of the biker’s voice snagged my attention from Noah.
We both looked up at the same time and I caught the gentle stare of the big man driving in the rearview mirror.
“Thanks, Santa. I know you’ll help. That’s what Santa does.”
Blinking, I turned to Noah and lifted a brow. “You know him?”
“Yep.” Noah winced and then peered up at me with wide innocent eyes. Too innocent.
“Is that where you’ve been disappearing? Into a stranger’s house?” I shot the biker a disapproving frown.
“No, Mama. He’s nice like Santa.”
Oh really? “What’s his name?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
Noah shifted in the seat. “It’s Santa.”
I pursed my lips. “His real name?”
“Why don’t you ask me, pretty girl? I’m more than happy to tell you.”
Uh huh. “Well?” I asked with attitude, sending a glare in the direction of the front seat.