Page 43 of Ridin' Free
My belly tingled in excitement, and I knew then I was only delaying the inevitable. Truth of the matter was, I wanted to go out with him. I wanted him to pick me up. I wanted to be the kind of woman worthy of the chase—even if only for a little while.
We’d started something. Not on purpose, but he was right. It was real.
Even just the sound of his voice made my belly twinge with anticipation.
I pulled my phone away from my ear, typed out my address in our text thread, and hit send. Lifting the device once more, I asked, “What time?”
“Seven.”
One word. Two syllables.
How was it possible Iheardhis smile in that one word? In two syllables?
How was it possible that hearing it made me grin?
“Fine. See you at seven.”
I didn’t give him the chance to say goodbye. Playfully, I hung up without another word then grabbed what remained of my coffee and stood to my feet. Not two seconds later, I got another text alert.
Later, sparky.
I rolled my eyes. But—damnit—I did it smiling.
I woremy favoritepair of jeans. They were high-waisted, skintight, distressed, and complete with holes at each knee. When I donned my lace, black bralette underneath my cropped Guns N’ Roses tee, which was at least two sizes too big and draped off my right shoulder, I told myself it was because it was comfortable, not because it was cute. I did my makeup like I was going to the bar and left my hair wild and loose, the way I liked it best.
It was a couple minutes after seven when I finished lacing up my boots and I heard the rumble of an approaching motorcycle. Intent on meeting Twister in the driveway, I wasted no time bounding down the stairs to my front entryway. I looped the strap of my purse over my head, securing it across my body, then hesitated at the sight of my blade in its holster.
Strange as it might have been, I was about to walk out my front door and go on a date. The last time Twister treated me to dinner, I didn’t have my knife. While that night ended poorly, I didn’t need my weapon. Something told me I wouldn’t need it this night, either.
‘I got you, sparky. You’re safe.’
I was being reckless, and I knew it; but I snatched up my keys, left the knife, and hurried for the door anyway. After I locked up, I dropped my keys in my bag in exchange for my sunglasses and made my way around the little bend of sidewalk leading to my driveway. Twister was still on his hog—his booted feet flat on the ground, his tatted arms folded across his chest, his sunglasses covering his eyes. The corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked little smile when he saw me, and the most stubbornpart of me tried not to give him the satisfaction of a mirrored expression.
I slid my sunglasses on as I approached, grabbing hold of either side of my hips as I asked, “So, where we goin’?”
“Chophouse. If we’re lucky, they’ll have a spot for us out on the patio.”
“Wow. An upgrade. Maybe you reallydolike me,” I teased.
He moved so fast, I hardly knew what was happening until I tasted him.
Twister shot out his arm, reached across the distance separating us, grabbed hold of the back of my neck and yanked me closer. I all but stumbled into him—my legs straddling his thigh as I raised my hands to brace my fall. Only, I wasn’t falling. He had me, and my mouth, precisely where he wanted.
His tongue swept over mine, my fingers wrapped around the open flaps on either side of his leather kutte, and I did the only thing I could and held on tight.
He kissed me just long enough to make my heart race. Just deep enough to make my stomach bottom out. Just wet enough to leave me thirsty for more—and then he pulled away only far enough to enunciate his words.
“Baby, by my count, this is our second date, which is twice as many as I’ve had since I earned the kutte on my back. Throw in the fact that you woke up on my couch, in my arms, fully clothed yesterday morning, and that makes you one of a kind. If you don’t know by now how I feel about you, you’re more hardheaded than I thought.”
I tried to pull away, certain I didn’t like being calledhardhead.
More than that, his declaration sank like a rock in my belly. It didn’t sit right. It was too sweet. Too honest.
Yet, in spite of my attempt to flinch away from him, his grip on my neck wasjustinsistent enough that I couldn’t go far.
“I know you’re not callin’ me dumb, seein’ as you don’t know me nearly as well as you think you do,” I shot back in an attempt to shatter the moment.
He chuckled, and I tried to pull away a second time.
