Ride Steady (Chaos, #3)(58)

He lifted his head and I held him even tighter as he shifted his hand out of my shirt and reached to his back pocket for his phone.

I was holding him tighter because I liked him on me. I liked what we’d been doing. And I didn’t want him to let me go or what we’d been doing to stop.

But mostly, I was holding him tighter because he was looking me in the eyes and his were not blunt steel.

They were a sheet of blazing molten steel.

“Hang tight, Carrie,” he murmured before he turned his head, looked at the phone, and clenched his jaw. I heard a beep, the phone was at his ear, and he said, “Bad f*ckin’ timing.”

I closed my eyes.

But I didn’t let him go.

I opened them when he said, “I didn’t forget. But I got two hours before I gotta be there.”

I watched. He listened.

Then he grunted, “Fuckin’ Valenzuela.”

Valenzuela?

“Yeah. I’m at Carrie’s. It’ll take me twenty.” Pause and then, “Carissa.” Another pause before, “Right. Later.”

I heard a beep and he looked at me.

“You have to go,” I said quietly.

“Have to bein’ the operative words.”

Wow, that was sweet.

I smiled.

His eyes dropped to my mouth and he made a sound like a groan.

That made me quit smiling and blurt, “What’s happening here, Joker?”

His eyes came back to mine. “You like Mexican?”

My head jerked on the couch.

“Uh… yes.”

“You work tomorrow?”

I nodded. “Day shift.”

“Right, what’s happenin’ here is, tomorrow, Travis is in a high chair at Las Delicias while I feed you the best burritos chicharrones in Denver.”

I melted underneath him.

A date.

He was asking me (and Travis!) out on a date.

I could wear my tube top!

Suddenly, I stopped melting.

“Chicharrones are essentially fried hunks of bacon fat,” I shared.

“So?”

“Well,” I proceeded cautiously and a little mortifyingly, “I haven’t lost the last of the baby fifteen.”

“And I like it,” he announced.

I blinked.

“So in an effort to keep it as I like it, you get chicharrones,” he finished.

I loved chicharrones.

I mean, they were essentially bacon and everything even minutely bacon was amazing.

I loved it more he liked me as just me.

“Okay,” I agreed, beginning to melt again. But the melting stopped when I remembered. “Oh no. After work I have to go meet my new attorney.”

“Burritos after I take you to meet your attorney.”

After he took me.

I smiled.

His eyes again dropped to my mouth.

Then his lips did and he kissed me, sweet but brief.

He lifted his head and said in a way I knew he didn’t want to say it, “Gotta go, Butterfly.”

My reply came out the same way. “Okay, Joker.”

He knifed off me but did it grabbing my hand and yanking me up with him so I was on my feet.

He didn’t let go of my hand as he pulled me to the stool. Only then did he release me so he could nab his jacket and shrug it on.

But he claimed my hand again when he took the four steps to the door. He pulled it open, turned to me, and pulled me in front of him.

I tipped my head back just in time for his hand to curl light around my jaw.

“When’s your appointment?” he asked.

“Six,” I answered.

“Distance to the office from here?”

“It’s closer to work.”

“Right. I’ll come and get Travis, pick you up at work, take you there, then dinner.”

“You’ll need Travis’s baby seat.”

“Leave it for Big Petey.”

I nodded.

His fingers pressed in and I automatically went up on my toes.

It was the right move since his head was bending toward me.

He touched his lips to mine, his whiskers brushing the skin they’d sensitized earlier, making my knees go weak so I had to reach out my hands and catch his T-shirt at his belly.

He ended the touch too soon but when he lifted his head, his rough thumb glided over my cheek as his steel eyes moved over my face.

“So f*ckin’ pretty,” he murmured and it was a wonder my body didn’t jerk out of his hold so I could twirl with glee.

“Thank you for dinner,” I whispered and he looked into my eyes.

“No problem, Carrie.”

I smiled.

His thumb rubbed over my lower lip before the pads of his fingers dug in lightly and he let me go.

I was proud I held it together and stayed steady rather than losing his touch and teetering.

“Later, Butterfly,” he said.

“Later, Joker,” I replied.

He moved out the door but looked back, doing it over his leather clad shoulder, a sinister biker who had a light touch, a molten look, a way with babies, and a talented mouth.

I put one hand to the edge of the door and lifted the other one to do a quick wave.

His mouth quirked, he shook his head, then he looked away and disappeared around the door.