Between the Sheets Read Online Free PDF

Brody was tall, dark, and powerful. Sean was shorter, wiry, and had pale freckled skin and red hair. Brody matched his USMC tee shirt. Sean wore one of the shirts from the café that his girlfriend, Cora, ran that said “Real Men Eat Pie.”
    It was as if a Maori warrior were brothers with a leprechaun.
    But there was no time to stand around wondering about the blood ties between the Baxter brothers. He had his own family problems to deal with.
    “Actually, I could use some time right now. I … I need to go grab my son from school. The principal wants to meet with me.”
    Sean’s blue eyes went wide and Brody pushed his glasses up onto his forehead.
    “You have a kid?” Sean asked.
    Ty nodded, but he didn’t brag or pull out his phone to show him pictures. He didn’t have any. Well, that wasn’t true; he had a few from last weekend when they’d gone fishing at the river. Casey had caught a fish the size of awhale, but then he’d dropped it on the bank and it flopped back into the river. Casey had looked so heartbroken, so totally destroyed, Ty had waded into the river to grab the fish with his hands, but he’d slipped in the silty mud and nearly fallen on his face in the cold water.
    Casey had laughed so hard he’d had to sit down.
    The picture on his phone was of Casey eating the fish fry they’d gotten from a roadside stand outside Marietta. The first really good memory the two of them had and Ty wasn’t ready to share it.
    Truthfully, he didn’t know how to share it. The words “my kid” still got hung up on his tongue.
    “Holy shit, man, you’ve been in Bishop for how long?”
    “A month.”
    “And you never told anyone you have a family?”
    “It’s just me and Casey. And I figure it’s no one’s business.” That was as pointed as he could get, but Sean still didn’t take the hint to back off.
    “How old is he?” Sean asked.
    “Eleven. Well, twelve in a few weeks.”
    “Is he in trouble?”
    Ty sighed. “It’s what he seems to do best.”
    “Go ahead, take whatever time you need,” Brody said. “And no working this weekend to make up for it.”
    But Sean elbowed his brother as if suddenly realizing something. “Unless … I guess unless you need money. I mean, we could float you some if—”
    “I don’t need money.” Ty didn’t like it, but he understood why Sean had asked. Why else would a single dad work on the weekend instead of spending time with his kid?
    Ty didn’t need the money.
    He just didn’t know what the hell to do with his kid.
    Ty locked up his tools and grabbed his helmet. In front of the bar his 1947 Indian Chief gleamed in thesunlight. He’d put a good year in on that bike, finding the original parts, including the skirted fenders and fringed saddle. He’d rebuilt the 1200cc V-twin engine practically from scratch, nearly tearing out his hair at least twice in the process.
    But it was worth it. She crouched at the curb, all tarted up in her cherry-red paint with the gold trim, the silver chrome. Flashy, but elegant.
    Show-off , he thought with fondness.
    “That’s quite a bike,” a man said as he walked by, holding a toddler’s hand. He grabbed a cell phone out of his back pocket. “You mind if I …?”
    “No. Go right ahead.” Ty stepped away and let the man take a few pictures.
    “Thanks. No, buddy, don’t touch.” The man grabbed his toddler’s hands just before he made contact with the fresh paint job.
    “It’s okay,” Ty said. “He can touch it.”
    The man let his son run his fingers through the fringe and Ty thought of his grandfather. Pop, the big, gruff biker who always let Ty touch the fringe.
    Ty blinked and glanced away.
    “My dad used to have a bike like that—he’ll love the pictures,” the man said, picking up his son. “Is it for sale?”
    “Not … ah … not yet.” Ty smiled. He wasn’t quite ready to let her go. Largely because the Velocette was being more difficult than it needed to be.
    The guy took off