This is Travis,” I yelled as he moved around the other side of the car and I saw the back of his jacket. I winced as he went back in and pulled out my spare.Īnd anyway, who would name their child Joker? “Joker,” he answered, his hand appearing from the trunk holding tools, which he tossed to the tarmac with a loud clang. “I just wondered,” I called, juggling an active Travis, who was trying to get away since he clearly preferred leather and whiskers to his mommy, “your name.” His head twisted, just that, he didn’t move a muscle of the rest of his body, and he said in a low rumble, “Stand back from the road.” He had the trunk open by the time I got myself together and took two steps forward. Then he transferred Travis to my arms, took my keys and sauntered to my car. He just muttered, “Yeah, kid, hold those for me.” I drew in a quick breath, hoping that Travis doing that wouldn’t anger him. Travis giggled, punched him in the lips with his baby fist then tore off the biker’s sunglasses. I did this just in time to see the biker had tipped his chin to Travis and his resonant biker voice asked, “You gonna leave any whiskers for me, kid?” I dug in my purse that was looped over my shoulder and came out with the keys. His eyes just stayed aimed to me until I took mine away.
His chin jerked slightly with the tugs but he didn’t seem to care.
Tugging with baby boy strength that I knew was already a force to be reckoned with.īut the biker didn’t yank his face back. “Uh… right,” I murmured, tearing my eyes away from him still holding Travis, who had become mesmerized by the biker’s beard and was tugging on it. Free hands, you can get the keys,” he said and I knew how he said it that it was an order, just a gently (kind of) worded one.
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