Page 51 of Baby for the Bikers

“No way, princess. You’re going home right now. Got food there?”

She nods, relief clear in her expression. “There’s leftover lasagna in the fridge.”

“Perfect.” I glance at Brick. “Rain check on the track.”

Ryder emerges from the kitchen, nodding at me without a word. His gaze lingers on Rowan just a beat too long, but I push the thought aside.

She drives like she was born to it, handling the bike with ease and confidence. I hang back, letting her set the pace and watching how she takes each corner.

When we reach her building, she dismounts and turns to me. “Thanks for escorting me home. I’ll see you?—”

“Not a chance, princess,” I interrupt, holding out my hand. “Keys.”

She raises an eyebrow but hands them over. I sweep her into my arms before she can protest, cradling her against my chest.

“What are you doing?” she yelps, arms automatically wrapping around my neck.

“Carrying you upstairs,” I say like it’s obvious. “You’re dead on your feet.”

“I can walk!”

“Course you can. But you don’t have to.”

She stops arguing halfway up, her head dropping against my shoulder. I manage the lock one-handed at her door and carry her straight to the kitchen, setting her on a stool.

I kneel to untie her boots, slipping them off one by one. Her sock-covered feet look strangely vulnerable.

“You don’t need to do this,” she says softly. “I’m not an invalid.” She gives me a long look before sliding off the stool. “I’m going to change into something more comfortable.”

I nod, heading to her refrigerator while she disappears into her bedroom. The lasagna is right where she said it would be, neatly wrapped in a glass container. I pop it in the microwave and grab two plates from the cabinet.

When she returns, she’s wearing loose shorts and a crop top that shows a strip of skin at her midriff. Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun, making her look even more attractive.

I’ve already set the table with two plates of steaming lasagna. She raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth quirking up.

“I take it you just want a free meal, don’t you?” She slides onto a stool.

“Well, the food’s just a bonus.” I sit beside her, my knee brushing against hers. “I’m actually here to eat you.”

Her cheeks flush pink, but she doesn’t look away. “You’re terrible.”

“You have no idea, princess.” I take a bite of lasagna, maintaining eye contact. “This is just the appetizer.”

Her cheeks flush pink as she takes a seat. “I should have known.”

“Known what?”

“That you’d find a way to turn this into something else.”

We eat in comfortable silence until she sets her fork down.

“I think you’re complicated. All of you,” she says.

“Complicated how?”

“Like, you put on this show of being these tough, intimidating guys, but then you do something thoughtful, like customize a bike for someone who destroyed yours.”

I turn to face her fully. “Maybe we just like you.”

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