“I won’t. I promise.” Tracey watched her mother rush over to a man standing by a register, motioning to Tracey. Her mother held up one finger in Tracey’s direction and disappeared around a corner. Tracey reached for Diesel, the smile in his eyes matching the one in her heart. “She doesn’t hate me.”

Tears threatened again, and he pulled her into his arms. “I’m so happy for you, baby.”

“I can’t believe it. Thank you. Oh God. Thank you.” She took his hand as her mother hurried toward them with a purse slung over her shoulder, curious eyes moving to Diesel. “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Diesel. He’s the one who found you for me.”

Diesel nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Diesel? That’s an interesting name,” she said affectionately.

“It’s a road name, ma’am. My given name is Desmond Black.”

“He’s a biker,” Tracey explained. “They all have road names.”

“Well, Diesel the biker, how can I ever thank you for bringing my sweet girl back to me?” Her eyes teared up, and she opened her arms, going in for a hug.

Tracey held her breath, thinking of how uncomfortable Diesel would be, but he wrapped her mother in his arms. “Seeing you two together is thanks enough.”

“I’m not sure that’s true, but I sure am grateful.” Her mother smiled up at him, then looked at Tracey. “Can we go for coffee and catch up? Do you have time?”

“Yes. We’d love to.”

“We have so much to talk about.” Her mother took Tracey’s and Diesel’s arms, and marched them toward the door. As they walked past a few of her mother’s co-workers, who were watching them curiously, her mother called out, “I’m going for coffee with my daughter!”

TRACEY AND HER mother sat in a booth at a cute café around the corner from the garden center. Her mother pointed out the front window to Diesel leaning against his truck, arms crossed, chin low. “He didn’t really have to make phone calls, did he?”

“No. He wanted to give us time alone.”

“That was nice of him. He’s a looker, honey, and I like the way he opened the doors for us and called me ma’am, although it made me feel my age. But that’s a lot of muscle, sweetheart, and I don’t know much about bikers, so I have to ask. Is he good to you?”