Dirty Ride (Wind Dragons MC, #3.5)(8)

“What are you doing Friday night?” he asks in that sexy voice of his.

I lower the menu and look at him. “Why?”

“I want to see you is f*ckin’ why.”

“I’m getting the cookies-and-cream cheesecake,” I say, putting down the menu without looking over the other options. I love cheesecake. “What are you getting?”

“Valentina—”

“Ardan,” I say, cutting him off. “I googled the Wind Dragons MC, you know.”

“For f*ck’s sake, seriously?” he mutters, scrubbing his hand down his face. “Well, you’re still here, so it couldn’t have scared you off too much.”

The waitress comes over, and he orders my cheesecake and a chocolate sundae for himself.

“I’m apartment hunting this weekend,” I tell him.

“Why are you moving?” he asks, checking his phone before looking up and waiting for my answer.

“I’m new in town, so I’m staying at a motel until I find an apartment,” I explain. “This weekend I’m going to check a few out.”

He stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “You’re living at a f*ckin’ motel right now? A motel?”

I nod slowly, wishing I had never opened my big mouth to say anything at all. “Yeah, what’s the big deal? It’s just until I get a place, and it’s not actually a motel, it’s more like a self-catering short-stay accommodation.

“What’s the big f*ckin’ deal? You’re alone, looking like you do, in a motel,” he pauses. “Or self-catering whatever, in a city you don’t even know. Yeah, what’s the big deal, right?” he says, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

I roll my eyes. “It’s fine.”

“I have a place you can stay,” he says, looking around the restaurant. “You can move in this weekend.”

“Yeah, no,” I tell him. “Look, no offense, but I don’t even know you. If you keep being this controlling, this is the last time you will ever see me.”

Like I need another controlling * in my life.

His lips tighten, but he says nothing.

Our desserts arrive, and to lighten the mood I offer him some of mine. He did take me out to an expensive dinner and has been a gentleman all night. I don’t want us to end the evening on a bad note. His eyes turn heavy-lidded as he leans over the table and I feed him a spoonful of the delicious cheesecake.

“So good,” he murmurs, looking right at me. “Perfect.”

I look down at my dessert, feeling my cheeks heat. It looks delicious, but so is he. What am I doing here? Why am I so attracted to him? I should be going for a quiet, gentle man, not an alpha biker, but here I am.

“Open,” he says, holding a spoonful of ice cream at my lips.

I grin and open my mouth, letting the creaminess melt on my tongue. “It’s good, but I think mine is better.”

“So do I,” he admits, eyeing my cheesecake.

I grin and ask while scooping more onto the spoon, “Do you want another bite?”

All of a sudden, my mouth and throat start tingling. I drop the spoon onto my plate and look up at him.

“Fuck,” I groan.

“What?” he asks, instantly alert.

“Are there peanuts in that?”

He looks down at his sundae. “Yeah, why?”

I grab my throat. “Oh, nothing, I’m just kind of allergic.”

He stands up, his chair falling over behind him, and he steps over to me and pulls me out of my chair. “What do I do? What the f*ck do I do?”

“It’s not life threatening,” I say, grimacing. “I might break out in hives, though.” I pause. “Or get nauseous.”

“We’re going to the f*ckin’ hospital,” he grits out, pulling out his phone in one hand, pulling me by my upper arm with the other.

So much for not ending the night on a bad note.



“You’ve been lecturing me for over an hour; can you just stop, please?” I groan, watching him pace up and down my hospital room. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t you think having an allergy like that is something you should mention when a man takes you out to eat?” he says for the second or third time.

I expel a deep sigh. “This shit could only happen to me.”

“Because you didn’t mention any allergy.” He stops the pacing to glare at me. “So I fed you my sundae, which had peanuts in it, which put you in the hospital. What a great f*ckin’ first date.”

“At least it’s memorable,” I point out, which only makes him look like he wants to kill me. “Oh come on, it’s kind of funny. At least now that the itching has stopped.”

He points at me, then continues to pace. “You’re going to be the death of me, I know it.”

“Actually it looks like it’s me who’s going to end up dead,” I joke, pointing at the hospital bed.

“Valentina—”

“Ardan.”

He sits down on the end of my bed, looking completely out of place in his all-black getup and leather cut. “Do you want me to get you something to drink?”

“Some water would be great,” I say quietly.

He touches my ankle, then stands up. “I’ll be right back. Try to stay out of trouble until then.”