Page 8 of Taming the Bad Boy

His tone says he’s teasing, but his words still strike me like a challenge. I whirl and stride quickly over to him, holding my chin high. “Not at all.”

“Good. Then get on.”

I do. I swing a leg over the saddle and happily wrap my arms around Slate’s strong waist. He’s so sturdy, like a concrete column that could hold up the Earth. The second I’m settled in, he reaches back and grips my thigh just above the knee. His strong fingers send a tremor through me that I’m sure he feels.

“Hang on tight, sweetie.”

I don’t even get a chance to respond before he kicks the bike into gear and pulls away from the house, the rumble of his engine vibrating through me, the wind whipping at my hair ashe speeds up. I clutch him tighter, sinking into him. His warmth, his strength, the effortless way he moves the bike as he takes every curve.

Our house is just a few minutes out of town, and as we speed down Main Street, I realize I have no idea where we’re headed. We pass dimly lit signs, shops closing for the night, until he pulls into a small parking lot, tucked away behind a strip mall. The sign reads Chesterville Diner.

“Really? A diner?” I ask as he cuts off the engine. “This is where you bring me to romance me?”

Slate tongues his cheek as he glances back over his shoulder, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Princess Ivy. I guess I didn’t peg you for the type of girl who’d turn down fries and a milkshake.”

I have to bite the inside of my lip to keep myself from laughing. “Okay. I’ll allow it,” I reply, doing my best impression of royalty.

He chuckles and hops off the bike, offering me his hand. I don’t hesitate. I take it, and the moment I feel his rough calluses against my palm, my stomach tightens, and I feel myself starting to blush again. He holds my hand as we cross the parking lot and walk up the stairs, then holds the door for me like he did last night.

“Such a gentleman,” I tease, trying not to let it show just how much his moves are working on me.

“I may not look like one”—Slate shrugs with a chuckle—“but looks can be deceiving.”

Without shame, I eye him up and down and do my best impression of a guy’s face when he thinks a girl is hot. “I sure hope not.”

Slate bursts out laughing as I step past him and enter the diner. It’s cozy and retro, like something out of the '50s, and filled with the smells of hamburgers, fried food, and coffee. Afew people sit at the counter, and a jaded-looking waitress barely gives us a glance before gesturing to the booths.

“Any open one is fine, dears.”

Slate leads me to one in the back and slides in first. I really want to sit beside him and show the whole diner that I am here with him, but it’s probably too soon to do that, so I just take the seat across from him. As we settle in, I’m suddenly aware of just how nice this feels.

It’s not some fancy restaurant, but it’s romantic.

I feel like Slate and I are already boyfriend and girlfriend.

I’m blushing again and quickly hide my face behind a menu. There aren’t that many items to choose from, but I don’t want him to see that I’m actually nervous around him, so I just keep holding it there, hiding from him.

“You gonna pretend you’re reading the whole time we’re here?” he asks, calling my bluff.

I peek at him over the top of the laminated sheet. “I’m deciding.”

He smiles and leans back, slips out of his jacket to expose his muscled arms ready to tear out of his T-shirt. He’s so confident, so at ease. Talk about being an alpha male. “Let me guess,” he says. “Vanilla milkshake with extra whipped cream and a cherry, French fries and…” his eyes narrow as though studying me. “Nope, that’s it.”

My jaw drops. “What the hell–?”

“It’s just a skill I have, Ivy.” He smiles, plucking the menu from my hands and placing it back in its basket. “I can read people. Knowexactlywhat it is they want.”

A slow, prickling warmth spreads through me, tickling my entire body with a thrilling touch. “Stop it,” I tell him. “No one can read someonethatwell.”

Slate shrugs and raises his eyebrows in response. “I can.”

If any other guy behaved like this, it would annoy me. But when Slate does it, it’s exciting, almost in a dangerous way. Like he’s reading my mind and knows just what I’m thinking.

And if that’s the case, I’m in big trouble…

“Yeah?” I lean forward, challenging him with my eyes. “So what else do I want? You forgot something.”

Slate holds my gaze, heating the moment with his eyes. I can’t help but wonder if he’s all bulged up under the table like he was back at my dad’s shop.

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