Page 6 of Riding with the Shifter

Damn him. Why does he have to be so disarmingly sweet under all that cocky swagger?

I chew my lip, wavering. It’s just dinner. I’m not agreeing to bear his children. And a girl’s gotta eat, right?

“Fine,” I hear myself grumble. “One dinner. But I’m paying.”

Ryder’s face lights up like I just agreed to have his babies after all. “As you wish, darlin’. I guarantee you’ll have fun.”

“We’ll see about that.” But I can’t help returning his smile, a traitorous flutter stirring in my belly.

What am I getting myself into?

As I walk Ryder out of the library, I catch Jenna gaping at us from behind the reference desk. Great, now I’ll never hear the end of this.

* * *

And when I raise my head at the end of my shift, there he is. Standing in all his rugged glory.

“I just need to grab my purse from the back room,” I tell him as I turn off my computer. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time, sweetheart. Not going anywhere.”

The wicked gleam in his eye makes me wonder if he’s referring to more than just this impromptu dinner date. A shiver rolls down my spine that has nothing to do with the AC.

Get a grip, Zara. It’s just burgers with a flirty mechanic, not a marriage proposal.

Right. Burgers and a conversation. I can handle that.

I hurry to the staff room on legs that are only a little shaky, snag my purse from my locker, and take a fortifying breath.

One meal with the big bad biker. How much trouble can I possibly get into?

Six

Chapter 6

ZARA

The Broken Arrow Diner is exactly what you’d expect from our small-town joint - vinyl booths, formica counters, and a jukebox that looks like it’s been here forever. The scent of fried food and apple pie, and the clientele is a mix of local regulars and passing truckers.

And Ryder strolls in like he owns the place, nodding to the waitress and steering me to a corner booth with a hand at the small of my back.

The casual touch sends a zing of awareness up my spine, and I slide into the seat opposite him with my cheeks warming. Get it together, Zara. It’s just dinner.

“So, what do you recommend?” I ask, perusing the laminated menu.

Ryder grins, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Trust me, you can’t go wrong with the Cowboy Burger - half a pound of prime beef, onion rings, and BBQ sauce on a toasted brioche bun. Heaven on a plate.”

My arteries harden just hearing the description, but my mouth is watering too. “Sounds like a heart attack waiting to happen. I think I’ll stick with the veggie wrap and sweet potato fries.”

“Suit yourself, but you don’t know what you’re missing.” He winks as the waitress appears to take our order. “The usual for me, please, and a veggie wrap for my date. Oh, and a chocolate shake, two straws.”

“I’m not your—” I sputter, but the woman just smiles knowingly and saunters off, pen tucked behind her ear.

Ryder chuckles at my disgruntled expression. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. I know this isn’t a date.”

I fiddle with my napkin, suddenly fascinated by its checkered pattern. “It’s a thank-you dinner. For the car.”

“Well, far be it from me to argue with a lady. A thank-you dinner it is.” But the heat in his gaze says he’d like it to be more.

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