“What are you doing?”
I turned at the sound of the tiny male voice over my shoulder. Of all the people I expected to talk to me in this neighborhood, I hadn’t expected this kid to be one of them.
“Fixing my bike.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Everything,” I grunted.
“If everything’s wrong with it, why don’t you buy a new one?”
Dropping my tool, I got off the bucket I was using for a seat and snatched the rag off the seat of the bike. Wiping my hands, I stared down at the kid who couldn’t be more than five years old. With a mop of brown hair on the top of his head and blue eyes that matched his mama’s, it was hard to see how he was related to Rico at all. He didn’t look a thing like him, which was probably for the best.
“Where’s your mama?”
“In the house,” he said, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. “She’s mad because she didn’t hear her alarm go off. She said she’s late and her boss is going to yell at her a lot.”
“Yeah? What does she do?”
“She’s a nurse at the hospital.”
This kid had to be older than I thought. The way he spoke—it didn’t sound like any five-year-old I knew. Not that I knew many of them. “How old are you?”
“Four!” he beamed, holding out four fingers proudly. “I’ll be five in two months!”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. This kid was only four? He spoke clearly, with not even a hint of uncertainty about what he was saying.
“Why don’t you buy a new bike?”
“Because I don’t want a new bike.”
“But a new bike would be prettier.”
“I like the work that goes into fixing up a bike,” I countered.
He sighed heavily, shaking his head as he stared at the heap behind me. “That’s a lot of work.”
“Yeah. You know something about it?”
He swiped at his nose again, shaking his head. “No.”
“Have you ever been around a bike?”
He shook his head again, but then his eyes lit up. “I have a monster truck, though.”
“That’s pretty cool.”
The screen door on his house banged shut as his mom came running out. She wasn’t dressed in scrubs, though. She was donning a blue EMT outfit. Maybe the kid had it mixed up.
Her eyes scanned the yard for her son and the panic was evident when she saw he wasn’t by her car. Then her eyes landed on me and the panic turned to fear. I didn’t like the gnawing feeling in my gut from that look, but I shoved it down. It wasn’t my job to make friends with her, and any involvement would only make my life harder.
“Parker!” she shouted, rushing over to him. She pulled him against her, keeping her hands firmly locked around his shoulders. “You can’t wander off. I told you not to go outside.”
“I was looking at his bike,” Parker answered.
“I didn’t know where you were. You scared me.”
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Bite The Bullet is book 16 in the OPS Protector romance series and it is recommended they are read in order.
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