Grit: A Spartan Riders Novel - Chapter #4 - Free To Read

That’s it. She was getting involved. Blake Mahone had forced her hand.

Sitting, once again, at the top of the elementary school steps, Gabby clenched the concrete until her fingertips turned white. Late again. It was the second time that week, and she’d had enough. Was it a biker thing, or did Ash’s father just not care, or was he just that inconsiderate? Did he think she didn’t have a life, responsibilities of her own? Gabby might be single, she might be living in her parents’ basement, but that didn’t mean she had all the time in the world to sit around babysitting his kid until whenever the hell he decided to show up and be a father.

To bide their time, Gabby helped Ash with his homework. As his teacher, she was well aware of the conflict of interest, but she was bored, and clearly the boy wasn’t getting the kind of attention he needed at home. So, she was helping.

“It’s too hard,” Ash complained, his tiny fist balling into his hair as he hung his head in defeat.

“It only seems that way because it’s new. Once you get the hang of it, it’ll be a piece of cake,” she assured, trying to cheer him up. Placing a hand on his arm, she urged him to sit up, then leaned in to take another look at the math problem that had him stumped. “Hmm, five plus four. What do you think the answer is?”

“I don’t know,” he grumbled, “ten?”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “Let’s use our fingers again. Start with the biggest number, which is…”

“Five.”

“Right. Start with five and count four more.” While he did as she instructed, Gabby studied his profile. It was no surprise that he resembled his father so strongly, right down to the way he scowled, causing his eyes to turn into slits of consternation that, even for a six-year-old, made him look fierce. A man like Blake Mahone would definitely have strong genes. There was no doubt in her mind that Ash Mahone was going to be a lady killer when he grew up.

Ash’s head popped up, his expression hopeful. “Nine?”

“Yes!” Gabby nearly shouted. “Great job, Ash.”

His smile was so wide and so bright, so full of pride that Gabby’s heart twisted. This moment was precisely why she chose to teach. There was nothing quite like witnessing a child’s personal growth develop and knowing you had a hand in it. She was so glad she’d finally taken the plunge and set her worries on the back burner to pursue her dreams.

She guided him through the rest of the problems and couldn’t resist giving Ash a little side hug when he was finished. “You’ve really gotten the hang of it, and fast too. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” he said, tipping his head to hide the faint blush that stained his cheeks. “My dad says I’m a smart cookie.”

“Well, your dad is right. In fact, you’re so smart, I might just let you teach the class tomorrow.”

“Really?”

Gabby’s reply was on the tip of her tongue when his father’s motorcycle pierced the otherwise quiet neighborhood, sending her stomach into a tailspin of nervous anticipation that she refused to analyze too closely. Ash scrambled to his feet, gathering his homework and shoving everything into his backpack. When Blake’s bike rolled up, Ash raced toward him shouting his good news.

“Daddy! Miss Morgan said I can teach the class tomorrow!”

“Is that right?” Blake’s eyes danced with humor as he helped his son onto the back of the bike. Gabby approached slowly. Her annoyance renewed, she was trying her best to maintain a polite façade in front of Ash, but one look at her, and Blake knew what was up. “Before you say it, I’m sorry I was late. It won’t happen again.”

“That’s what you said last time, Mr. Mahone. Believe it or not, you’re not the only person who has responsibilities outside of the home.”

“It won’t happen again,” he repeated with impatience.

“It’d better not, or…”

One dark brow over eyes that glimmered with warning winged up. “Care to finish that sentence, Miss Morgan?”

Gabby had a lot she wanted to say to him, words she was sure Blake Mahone had never heard directed his way—likely because no one had the guts to say it to his face—otherwise, he wouldn’t have grown up to be so damn inconsiderate of others. How Ash had turned out to be such a sweetheart with a father like that was a mystery to her. But a glance at the small boy sitting behind him, watching their exchange with innocent, knowing eyes, caused her to put a lid on her temper. Huffing, Gabby replied, “We’ll discuss this another time, when little ears aren’t listening.”

Something that resembled shock flashed in his eyes before it was quickly banked. With a nearly infinitesimal shake of his head, he replied curtly, “Sure.” Holding her stare for a moment longer, Blake’s pewter-colored eyes bored into her russet brown ones. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he snapped his visor down and took off.

Once again, Gabby was left staring after him contemplating her next plan of action.

***

“Miss Gabby says I’m smart.”

“That’s because you are.” Shoveling a meatball into his mouth, Blake tried to block out the mental image of the woman. Unsuccessfully. She was like a witch, fucking with his head from the moment he laid eyes on her stuck-up ass. Every time he blinked, he was reminded of those toned legs, thick hips, sweet-as-sin rack, and thick, pin-straight hair that he’d like to wrap around his fist and use as a reign as he took her fine ass from behind.

But most of all, he couldn’t get that perfect mouth out of his mind. Full, pale pink, Cupid’s bow lips that would look damn good wrapped around his cock.

Yeah, he liked that idea. Fill her mouth so she couldn’t run it anymore, because every time those lips got to flapping and she busted his balls, it ruined the moment better than a bucket of ice water.

The worst part of it was that Ash couldn’t shut up about her. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the kids was in love.

Hell, with the way she’d shut down what could have been a full-blown argument, and all for the sake of Ash, he just might join him. In his world, not a lot of women operated the same way.

“Do girls like smart?”

“I hear it’s like catnip,” Blake told him, amused by Ash’s puzzled expression. “They love it,” he clarified. “Why do you ask?”

Shrugging, Ash finished his dinner in silence.

“You find a girl you like or somethin’?”

A small, bashful smile cropped up, and Ash dipped his head, hiding his face.

“She pretty?”

A nod.

“She like you back?”

Shrug.

“You gonna ask her to be your girl?”

Shrug.

“Cat got your tongue?”

That earned him another smile. “I’m gonna marry her.”

“Movin’ a little fast there don’t ya think, bud?”

“How else am I gonna make her mine?”

Blake’s lips parted but no words came out. He never expected his boy to grow up so damn fast. He figured when it came time to talk about girls and relationships, he’d just have to tell him to be safe and wrap it up. Here Ash was, though, thinking long-term. Heavy shit for a kindergartener.

Maybe he’d been spending too much time with the guys. Those assholes could corrupt Mother Teresa given enough hours and alcohol.

Scratching his stubbled jaw, he advised, “How about you take it slow. Get to know her a little first before you go all Beyoncé, okay?”

Staring down at the floor thoughtfully, it took a moment for Ash to respond. “I’m gonna draw her a picture.”

Blake blew out a relieved breath and reached over, patting him on the knee. “Good idea, bud. I’m sure she’ll like that.”

“You should draw a picture for Miss Gabby too.”

Surprised, Blake looked down at his son, noting the drops of spaghetti sauce splattered all over his cheeks and nose. “Now why would I do that?”

“Because you like her. And she likes you too.”

Who was this kid, freaking Sylvia Brown? “We’re just…” Friends wouldn’t be the right word for it. “She’s your teacher.” And… “And if anything, she’d probably like it if you drew her a picture instead. You color better than me.”

Twisting the last bit of noodles into a knot around his fork, Ash nodded as if agreeing with him. “You could give her flowers. Girls like flowers.”

“I’m not giving her flowers.”

“But flowers are a girl’s best friend.”

Blake chuckled. “That’s diamonds, buddy.”

“Then get her those instead.”

Stacking Ash’s empty plate on his own, Blake rose to his feet and carried their dishes to the sink. “I don’t think so, bud.”

“Why not?” Ash asked as he got up and dragged his step stool over, placing it beside Blake’s stocking feet and climbing up so he stood chest-high. Turning on the tap, he waited for Blake to scrub a plate and hand it over, then rinsed it under the cool water.

“Son,” Blake said, picking up the conversation again, “I know you like Miss Gabby, but we don’t know her.”

“I do. She’s nice and she’s pretty and she helps everybody.”

“Okay, I don’t know her,” he clarified.

“Then you should talk to her, silly.”

Good Lord…Blake shut off the water and toweled his hands dry, unsure how to respond. He couldn’t very well tell him that he had talked to her and, aside from making his dick twitch, he thought she had a stick shoved up her ass so far it must be the reason her nose practically touched the clouds. Judgment and ridicule was practically tattooed across her forehead; it was so plainly written on her face. So did he want to get to know her? No. No, he didn’t.

But he kind of did.

He could sense where Ash was going with this, though. Choosing to ignore it, Blake scooped him under his arms, lifted him, and set him back on his feet on the floor. “Time for a bath.”

“Awwww, but I just took one last night,” Ash whined.

“Try two nights ago,” Blake corrected him.

“But—”

“No buts. Have you even looked at yourself today?” Blake motioned to his dirt encrusted, food-stained clothes that promised to become his own personal nightmare come laundry day. “You look like you took a roll in a pig trough.”

Tilting his head, Ash asked, “What’s a pig trough?”

Shaking his head, Blake grabbed the top of his son’s head in one large hand and turned him toward the hallway. “From the looks of it, it’s your bedroom. How do you expect to get that girl to marry you if you smell like a monkey’s butt?”

Ash’s peals of laughter lit his heart. “You’re silly, Daddy.”

“I’m also right.”

Pursing his lips, Ash finally relented. “Okay. But then can I ask Marybeth to marry me?”

Hell, who was he to stand in the way of true love? Blake chuckled to himself. “Sure, buddy, why not. Carpe diem.”

“Carpe what?”

“It means seize the day, but right now, I want you to seize a bath. Now go pick out some clean pajamas, and I’ll meet you in the bathroom.”

Giving him a swift swat on the butt with the hand towel, he sent him on his way. Man, kids. Blake had only been going it alone for a few months, and already he was wondering if he’d be able to make it through the next thirteen years. Ash was a handful and a half. Between work, the club, and the kid, he was running on fumes and there was no gas station in sight. Now he finally understood why the old ladies sat around bitching so damned much about their men. Shit, it almost made him want to sit down at their table and air a few grievances of his own, but if the brothers caught wind of that, he’d never hear the end of it.

After wiping down the dining table and turning out all the lights, Blake spent an hour drawing pictures on the bathroom tiles with soap crayons, and another hour reading bedtime stories before finally crawling into bed himself. The moment his head hit the pillow, he was out.