Page 7 of Riding with the Shifter

I clear my throat, looking for a safer topic. “So, how did a biker mechanic end up owning a chain of auto shops?”

Ryder leans back, draping an arm over the back of the booth. “Would you believe me if I said it was all dumb luck and good timing?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Not for a second.”

He grins. “Smart woman.” His deep chuckle hits me straight in the lady parts. “Started out as a grease monkey, just like my old man. But I always had a head for business and a knack for fixing things. Saved every penny I could, took some night classes, and eventually scraped together enough to buy my first shop.”

“Impressive. And now you have how many?”

“Five, with a sixth in the works.”

Wow, how does he manage to look so cutely shy right now?

Our food arrives, interrupting the conversation. I have to admit, Ryder’s burger looks sinfully good, the juices running down his fingers as he takes a massive bite. He lets out an obscene moan, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. And the sounds makes my pussy contract and my clit throb.

“Fuck, that’s good. You sure you don’t want a taste?”

I’m not sure if he’s referring to the burger or himself, but I decline with a shake of my head, biting into my wrap and averting my gaze from the temptation on a stick sticking across from me.

It’s actually delicious, the veggies are crisp and the dressing tangy, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of moaning my appreciation.

We eat in silence for a few minutes, the jukebox crooning in the background. It’s… nice. Easy, in a way I didn’t expect. Ryder might be a shameless flirt, but he’s also surprisingly good company.

“So, what about you?” he asks, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “What made you want to become a librarian?”

“I just… I love books. Always have. And I love helping people discover new stories and ideas. It’s not the most glamorous job, but it’s fulfilling.”

He’s listening attentively, his smile gentle, understanding.

Damn it. Why does he have to be so… darn adorable? It would be so much easier to keep him at arm’s length if he was just a pretty face with a cocky attitude.

But no, he had to have depth. And a soft side. And eyes that see right through me.

I’m in so much fucking trouble.

The rest of the dinner passes in a blur of easy conversation and laughter. Ryder tells me stories of his wild youth, making me laugh till my stomach hurts. We split the chocolate shake, and I pretend not to notice when his fingers brush mine on the glass, despite the warmth that floods my body.

It’s the most fun I’ve had in… well, longer than I can remember. And when Ryder insists on picking up the check, I don’t even put up a fight.

He walks me to my car - well, his car, technically - and leans against the door, his expression turning serious.

“I had a really good time tonight, Zara. Thank you.”

“I… I had a good time too,” I admit, my heart doing a little flip in my chest under his intense gaze. “Thank you for dinner.”

Ryder’s rueful grin returns. “Night’s not over yet, sweetheart.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling as I slide behind the wheel. “Goodnight, Ryder. Don’t make me regret this.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’. Drive safe. I’ll be seeing you.”

He steps back, and I pull out of the lot, my mind whirling. What the hell am I doing?

But as I catch sight of Ryder in the rearview mirror, watching me drive away with a soft smile on his face, I can’t bring myself to regret it.

Damn it all to hell. I’m in trouble. Big, leather-wearing, Harley-riding trouble.

And God help me, I think I like it.

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