by Vicki Tharp
He snagged it out of the air. It clattered in his hand. He opened his fist. “What’s this?”
“You’ll need transportation when you go to San Diego for basic training,” I said. “It’s the keys to my bike.”
I’m sure he was pleased, I mean come on, it’s an antique Harley. I didn’t watch his expression long enough for the realization of what I’d given him to sink in. Instead, I turned to Hank, surprise on his face and love in his eyes. I leaned in and said, “I won’t need them anymore.”
Dale grinned wide and looked at me. “That’s why I hired you.”
About the Author
Vicki Tharp makes her home on small acreage in south Texas with her husband and an embarrassing number of pets. When she isn’t writing or you can usually find her on the back of her horse—and avoiding anything that remotely resembles housework. Vicki’s website is: www.VickiTharp.com, her facebook address is: www.facebook.com/VickiTharpAuthor and at Twitter @vickitharp.