Ride Wild (Raven Riders 3)

“Forget it,” he said, those pale eyes not quite willing to meet hers. “See ya tomorrow night. Regular time?”

“Yep,” she said, bewildered. Apparently, all the Evans men were set to weird tonight.

After that, Cora hung out with Haven and Alexa as much as their guys could stand to be parted from them. The three of them chatted for hours and even enjoyed a round or two of Blow Jobs, much to the delight of the guys seated around them at the bar—and therefore to the chagrin of Dare and Maverick. When the two couples finally departed, Cora felt a bit at loose ends, but finally ended up shooting some pool with Phoenix.

What she really wanted to do was head to bed, but since her room was located over the bar, it wasn’t going to be particularly peaceful up there until the party wound down. Which had her thinking about the peace and quiet of Slider’s house . . . and wishing she had a home like that to go to . . .

Chapter 7

It was all Slider could do to keep from banging his head against the nearest wall. Or at least his headboard. Because the boys’ pleadings about asking Cora to become their nanny wouldn’t stop poking at his brain. And because the idea was growing on him whether he wanted it to or not—they weren’t wrong; with Slider’s changing schedule and overnight shifts, he could use more regular help. Maybe even permanent help, especially if it benefited Cora.

But he’d fucking chickened out on asking her.

Beyond that, he wanted to bang his head against anything hard and immovable because something had been wrong with her at dinner. He would’ve put money on it. And he’d let her blow him off when he’d asked.

Now, he couldn’t sleep for worrying about it.

And why the hell was he worrying about it again?

Jesus.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw one of two images that made sure they wouldn’t stay closed: sharing a bed with Cora and catching her blatantly checking out his body, and the way her skin had gone ashen in the middle of dinner.

As appealing as that first memory was, it was the second one he couldn’t stop replaying as he lay in the darkness of his room. Cora was many things. Funny. Sarcastic. A good caregiver. A straight talker. And not at all a pushover. That morning she’d walked out of his house, she hadn’t hesitated to agree he’d been a dick or to tell him not to do it again. He respected the hell out of that, too.

But he’d never seen Cora scared and never once thought of her as fragile. And whatever had happened to her at dinner made her appear both. It hadn’t lasted long, but he knew what he’d seen.

What the hell could have caused it?

And, as if all that wasn’t enough to be pinging around in his brain at zero-dark-thirty, knowing that Haven’s moving in with Dare would leave Cora to live alone at the clubhouse, with all its parties and the drinking and hooking up that often happened at them, was not sitting right in Slider’s gut.

Question was: What was he going to do about it?

He was still asking himself that question twenty-four hours later when his shift ended in the wee hours of Sunday morning. His boss had let him cut out a little early because it’d been absolutely dead, and he’d arrived home a little after five, the house utterly quiet.

But it wasn’t dark. Golden light spilled out from the family room, illuminating the hallway and just spilling into the darkness at the front of the house.

Why was Cora up at this hour?

He made his way to the family room. “Hey, Cora, I’m home early,” he called out so he didn’t scare her. But when he peeked into the room, he found her sound asleep. She lay facing the back of the couch, her knees drawn up, her body in a tight little ball. The blanket had slipped to the floor, leaving her arms and legs bare around the little white tank top and pale blue men’s boxers she wore.

Damn, there was just no denying how pretty she was. Annnd now it was time to get out of there.

Quietly, he retrieved the blanket and bent to lower it over her again.

She jerked, her head turning to peer over her shoulder. A scream ripped out of her.

Heart hammering in his chest, Slider reared back so hard he nearly went ass over head over the coffee table. “Jesus, I’m sorry. It’s just me, Cora. It’s just me,” he managed when he caught himself.

She scrambled into the corner of the couch, her eyes skittering back and forth, her whole body visibly shaking, as if she was terrified of her unfamiliar surroundings. A little cry of anguish spilled from her throat.