Page 33 of Riding the Edge

Unsure if I should take offense to that, I open my mouth to object. However, the words get lost on my tongue as I follow his gaze to toward the shiny red Dodge Charger that’s parked in front of my house. Widening my eyes, I turn my attention back to him. The car looks like he just rode it out of the showroom.

“This is yours?”

“For the next twenty-four hours,” he replies. “I rented it.”

“You rented a car,” I murmur.

Leaning closer to me, his eyes twinkle with mischief as he brushes my hair away from my ear and whispers against it.

“Don’t worry, Lady, I’ll still take you for a ride.”

Slapping his shoulder, I make a face and watch the corners of his eyes crinkle as he lets out a laugh.

“What?” he says mocking innocence. “I meant in the car.”

“Sure, you did,” I retort.

Releasing my hand, he proves to be a man of his word and opens the passenger door for me. Slipping into the soft leather seat, I lift my head and smile at him.

“Thank you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Lady,” he says before closing the door. I drop the clutch onto my lap and reach for the seatbelt. Securing it, I watch as he folds his large frame into the car and I can’t help but chuckle. You can take the leather from the man but put him behind a steering wheel and he looks like a fish out of water.

“For you,” he mumbles, firing the engine.

“What?”

“Haven’t been behind the wheel of anything but a cage in years,” he says. “For you, I went and rented a car,” he says, turning his eyes to me. “I guess I’m a sucker for a woman in heels.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t remember the last time I put on a pair of jeans or a simple tank top.”

He smiles at me and I swear, it’s slowly becoming my favorite thing.

“Meetin’ in the middle,” he comments.

“Somewhere between leather and silk,” I add.

“Like that,” he mutters, tearing his gaze away to focus on the road. As he peels away from the curb, I find myself struggling not to stare at him. From the way he’s groomed himself to the way he drives with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the shifter, I’m fascinated by him and the fact that we’re here together. Two unlikely people daring enough to take a chance.

“Where are we going?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“Ferdinando’s on Union Street.”

“The foccaceria?”

“You familiar with the place?”

“Enough to know they close after the lunch rush.”

“Lucky for us, the owner is a friend of mine.”

“I thought you weren’t trying to impress me.”

“I’m not,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’m just experienced enough to know you only get one first date with a woman and a man’s gotta make it count if he wants a second,” he adds.

“Is that what this is… a date? What happened to dinner between two friends?”

His eyes flit to mine.

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