Bliss and the Art of Forever - Alison Kent Page 0,6

thick leather boots. The tease of his tattoo. A snake would be too clichéd. She liked the idea of a dragon. “I’m not sure I’m dressed for your bike,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Not to mention I don’t have a helmet.”

“I brought an extra.”

Because he’d expected her to come with him? To say yes? To jump? He was making this too easy. Her agreeing. Going along. Giving in. She wasn’t sure she should do any of those things. But she wasn’t quite ready to buy a litter box or a scratching post, either.

“Okay.” Leaving her room decorations undone, she grabbed her purse and her keys and her peacoat, locking her sanity into her classroom along with the cutouts of Cupid and his stupid red hearts.

Then she walked with Callum Bennett Drake down the empty hallway and out the front door to his Harley, proving to herself—and to anyone else wondering—that she wasn’t dull and boring at all.

TWO

Callum had always loved women who were good sports, who could deal with getting messy, who didn’t flinch from a challenge. Turned out Brooklyn Harvey was all of those things and more. That, he hadn’t expected. Addy’s ramblings made her teacher sound like an old maid. He’d half imagined he’d find her in orthopedic shoes and a cat-hair cardigan.

Since day one of the school year he’d listened to his daughter go on about Ms. Harvey: how her teacher’s glasses were just like her grandmother’s, how their hair was the exact same color and their eyes, too, how they both baked the bestest sugar cookies in the world. How she would never disobey Ms. Harvey or Grammy; she didn’t want to sit in their time-out chairs.

Oh, had little Miss Adrianne Drake been wrong. Maybe not about the cookies or time-out, but the rest . . . her teacher wasn’t old, though it was his leaping logic that had twisted that conclusion out of his daughter’s words. Unmarried, yes. That he knew from an overheard no significant other comment his mother had made. Why she was single was anyone’s guess, but he wouldn’t deny being glad. Or deny his being glad was a problem.

Her hair was naturally blond like his daughter’s, not highlighted like his mother’s. And, yes, the shape of their glasses was similar, but Brooklyn’s accentuated bright blue eyes with lashes even longer than Addy’s. His little girl had inherited hers from her mother. Thankfully she hadn’t ended up with anything more. Or anything worse.

Neither of his parents had mentioned how young Brooklyn was, how sharp. How hot in her sexy librarian frames . . . not that they’d ever say that. They were careful not to say anything that might cause him to lose focus. No matter how many times he’d told them he was done with club life. No matter the success of his business demanding he stay put. His mother, at least, still believed he was ruled by bad choices. Which was pretty funny considering she’d made almost all of his for him while he was growing up.

With his history? He couldn’t blame them. He was hardly a poster child for doing the right thing. But now he had Addy. She was his and she was everything. He was done screwing up, or doing anything that didn’t have her best interests at heart. He couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t lose her.

He would not lose her.

Crushing the thought, he signaled for a left turn, then leaned into it, the rumble of the bike an echo of the take-no-prisoners mood brought on by his thoughts. Brooklyn leaned, too, as if she’d been riding with him for years. Having her wrapped around him made the trip go by faster than he liked. He kept to the speed limit, enjoying the flex of her fingers as she held him tight.

She’d bound her hair at her nape beneath the helmet, but still she pressed her shielded face to his back as they rode. Her breasts, too. Her thighs. It had been a long time since he’d ridden with a woman behind him. Even longer since the woman was one who felt as good as Brooklyn did.

He wasn’t sure he was ready to give a name to the reason he’d gone back to the school after dropping Addy off at his folks’. He picked her up most days; it was their thing, their time. Dad and daughter and a quick ride to either Bliss or his parents’ home. He hated foisting her off