Mister Moneybags(6)

She seemed to like that bet. Holding out her hand, she said, “You’re on. Be prepared for a good workout this afternoon.”

I wanted to give her a good workout, but it had nothing to do with a damn bicycle.

She stood and dusted off the grass from her hands. “Can I borrow your sweatshirt?”

I’d had a hoodie with me when I went to the gym. Since it was beautiful out, I tucked it into one of the two carrying bags on the back of my new messenger bike. Her purse and heels were in the other one. She’d exchanged her sexy sandals for a pair of flip flops that were in her bag before she’d hopped onto the back of the bike.

Bianca pulled a ponytail holder from her purse and tied her long hair back into a knot. Then she proceeded to slip on my sweatshirt and zip it all the way to the top before pulling up the hood.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to walk past those suits and show you they won’t even notice that I almost trip.”

“And you need to be incognito for that?”

She pulled the sweatshirt all the way down so it covered her ass. The thing hung to her knees. “I’m covering up my assets.”

“You do have some pretty distracting assets.”

With a dark sweatshirt four sizes too big covering her body and a hoodie pulled tightly over her head to hide her beautiful face, she took off, jogging back a bit and then entering the concrete path. When she reached the two suits, she pretended to trip. One guy looked up for a brief second and then kept right on talking. Damn if they weren’t making the rest of us look bad.

Smiling like she’d already won, Bianca strutted back to where we were sitting. She immediately began to take off the sweatshirt as she spoke. “See. Rude. No manners. The one who didn’t even look up, probably has a view of the park from his living room.”

It probably wasn’t the time to mention I lived on Central Park West and had a view from my living room and bedroom. Which reminded me, where the hell would I even take her if she told me she’d come home with me later? Jay, the bike messenger, wouldn’t be able to afford the closet in my place.

Once Bianca had my sweatshirt off, she began to unbutton a few extra buttons on her own blouse. While before, I had to imagine what was beneath the silk, now she was flaunting perfectly tanned skin and a healthy amount of cleavage. I wondered if she was wearing a push up bra or her tits were that perfectly round.

“That’s stacking the deck a little, isn’t it?”

She pulled her hair out of the ponytail and fluffed it up, then reached into her bag and pulled out a bright red lipstick. “It shouldn’t matter who walks by.”

When she was done, she took off her flip flops and grabbed her sexy heels from the bag, putting them on. Then she turned to me. “Ready?”

I leaned back on my elbows to enjoy the show. I didn’t really give a shit what the two suits did, but I was liking watching Bianca strut her stuff a hell of a lot. “Go for it.”

Just like before, she walked a bit down the grass before entering the walkway. Her hips swayed from side to side as she placed one foot in front of the other. Right before she reached the suits, she dropped the elastic band that had been in her hair to the ground. She turned, bending dramatically at the waist, and gave the two men a perfect view of her very fine ass. The one with the outstretched legs definitely noticed. Bianca stood, turned to look my way with a cheeky grin on her face, and took a few more steps. About three feet before she reached the bench, the suit pulled his legs in so she could pass.

He also followed her ass the rest of the way as she walked back to where we were sitting.

“Cute. Very cute.”

“I think I need to make a few stops on the way home and pick up some things,” she gloated.

“Let me guess. Bricks?”

She laughed. I loved that she just slipped off her shoes and sat in the grass without giving a shit that she might get dirty. I was pretty sure the last time Caroline’s feet touched the grass, it was for a photo shoot, and she probably made one of the cameramen carry her.

My cell vibrated in my pocket. It had been doing it the entire time we rode around the city and picked up lunch, but Bianca hadn’t noticed it from the back of my tandem with the sounds of the city all around us.

“Is that your phone?”

“Apparently so.”

“I thought you didn’t have a phone on you? That’s why you couldn’t give me any light to find mine when I’d dropped it?”

Shit.

“I didn’t have it on my person because I’d forgotten it in the messenger bag on my bike when I went up to do my delivery.”

“Oh.”

My phone buzzed again.

“Don’t you have to answer it?”

“It can wait.”

“Are you the only messenger? Or is it a big company?”

“There are a few of us.” Pick up shovel, dig yourself deeper, Jay, you dick.

She squinted. “You’re being vague. Most men jump at the opportunity to talk about their success.”

“Maybe my company is extremely successful, and I don’t want to scare you away thinking I’m one of those rich men you seem to dislike so much.”

“I don’t dislike people because they have money. I dislike them because of what having the money does to them. It seems to cause a warp in priorities and make them think the world revolves around them.”