Widow's Undoing (Ruthless Sinners MC #4) - L. Wilder Page 0,14
would’ve never been able to do this.”
“No problem, kid.”
“I’m Sean.” He motioned his hand behind him. “And this is my mom, Frankie.”
I gave him a quick chin lift, then replied, “Nice to meet ya. My brothers call me Widow.”
“Widow?” Sean’s tone was riddled with excitement as he asked, “Like a black widow?”
“Yeah. That’d be it.”
“Wait...” Bewilderment marked Frankie’s face as she looked down at me and said, “I thought black widows were females. Like aren’t they known for eating their mates, and that’s why they are called black widows?”
“They are, and yeah, they do.”
“Then, why would your brothers call you Widow?”
“Because over the years they’ve learned I’ve got a pretty vicious bite.” I couldn’t help but give her a small smirk as I continued, “And because I’m secure in my manhood.”
With a light chuckle in her voice, she replied, “Good to know.”
Her smile nearly knocked me back on my ass. I didn’t know what the hell was going on with me. Irritated with my unexpected reaction, I turned my attention back to the task at hand and removed the flat. I replaced it with the spare and was starting on the lug nuts when I heard Sean ask, “Is that a Harley?”
“Yep, sure is.”
“Harleys are badass.”
“Sean,” Frankie fussed. “What’s with you and all the cussin’ tonight?”
“What? You cuss.”
“I do not.”
“You do, too.” His tone was playful as he told her, “You called me an asshole last night.”
“What!” Frankie gasped.
“When I said you burned the pork chops...”
“Oh, yeah.” Her brows furrowed as she explained, “Well, they were a little browner than usual, but they weren’t burnt.”
“They looked like charcoal, and tasted like it, too.”
“They did not!”
“Did, too. Could’ve used them as hockey pucks.”
Frankie gave him a teasing nudge as she replied, “You really are a little asshole.”
“Yeah, but you still love me.” Sean turned his attention back to my bike as he muttered, “That motorcycle is really badass, Mom. I’m gonna get one just like it when I get older.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Why not?”
“Because they are dangerous.” I continued to attach the spare as Frankie told him, “And I’d like my son to keep his brains in his head and not all over the highway.”
“That’s a mom reason, and I’m talking about when I get older...when you won’t have a say.”
“Oh, you may not listen, but I’ll always have a say. That’s one of the many joys of being a mother. We always have a say.”
“Yeah. Well, I still want one.” Drawing me back into the conversation, Sean turned back to me and asked, “How old were you when you got your first motorcycle?”
“I was eighteen or so...right after my ol’ man died. Had always wanted one, so I worked, saved up, and got it.”
“Your mom let ya get it?”
“My mom didn’t have a say in the matter. She’d lost that right long before that.” I didn’t bother looking in Frankie’s direction. I knew she wouldn’t approve of my response, especially when I said, “I wanted it, so I worked, saved up, and bought it. Simple as that.”
“That’s what I’m gonna do, too. I’ll work and buy it on my own.”
“Well, if you do, you gotta be responsible and respect the power of the machine.” I checked to make sure the spare was secured, then lowered the jack and pulled it out from beneath the car. As I stood and started towards the trunk, I told him, “Otherwise, you might end up hurting yourself or someone else, and we can’t be having that.”
“No. That wouldn’t be good.”
“No, it wouldn’t, so put in the effort. Take a couple safety courses and read up on safety measures. Then maybe, just maybe, you can convince your mom that motorcycles aren’t as dangerous as she might think.”
Before Sean could respond, Frankie stepped up behind him and smiled. “I doubt it, but you can certainly try.”
“Sounds fair enough.”
“You don’t know my mom.” Sean looked up at Frankie as he sighed. “She’s even more stubborn than my dad, and that’s saying something.”
“I’m not stubborn.”
“Um-hmm.”
It was clear by the way the two spoke they had a good relationship—certainly better than the one I had with my mother. Frankie seemed to have a good head on her shoulders and was doing a good job raising her kid. It was a thought that had me wondering about her husband. She’d mentioned he was coming, but so far, the guy hadn’t shown. I glanced down at her left hand and saw she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, nor did she have any