“Can’t drive on that spare,” Joker kept speaking, but he was doing it eyeing me closely. “Not for long. You need to see to that, soon’s you can.”

I stopped thinking about tires, my inability to afford them, and the absence of time I had to deal with it, and stared into his eyes.

They were gray. A strange, blunt steel gray.

It was far from unattractive.

It was also very familiar.

“Yeah?” he asked on a prompt and my body jolted because my mind was focused on trying to figure out how his eyes could seem so familiar.

Travis lunged.

And yet again, surprisingly Joker instantly lifted his now bare hands to my son and took him from me, curling him close, natural, taking that beautiful load on like he’d done it since the moment Travis was born.

Something warm washed through me.

“Yeah?” Joker repeated.

“Uh, yes. New tires. Don’t drive on the spare,” I replied.

“You go to Ride, I’ll give them your name. They’ll give you a discount.”

And that was when something dirty washed through me.

The dirty was the fact that my car was twenty years old, faded, rusted, worn out, and probably only still working because God loved me (I hoped), and all that was not lost on him.

This was embarrassing.

And as that washed through me, more did. Suddenly, gushes of nasty poured all over me.

The fact that I hadn’t shifted off the last fifteen pounds of baby weight.

The fact that I hadn’t been able to afford highlights for the last seven months so my hair did not look all that great, the golden blonde streaks starting four inches down from my roots in a way that was not an attractive ombré.

The fact that I was dressed to go to work in a polo shirt, khakis, and sneakers, and not in a cute dress and cuter shoes.

The fact that he had expensive glasses, an expensive bike, a leather jacket, and he might be ill-groomed, but he was tall, broad, had interesting eyes, was nice, generous with his time, great with kids, and a Good Samaritan.

“You got time to do it and can hang,” he went on. “I’ll ask them to go over the car. Make sure it’s good.”

Oh no.

He was taking pity on me.

More dirty washed over me.

“No… no,” I shook my head, reaching out to take Travis from him. It was a feat, Travis didn’t want to let go, but I bested him and tucked my son firm on my hip. “I… you’ve already been very nice. I should…” I flipped out my free hand, “I have money…”