It’s not a stay and make coffee kind of scenario.
And riding on the back of Lance’s Duck or Duke or whatever he calls it to Arroyo Seco just to get my car to drive back into town to work feels all wrong.
Irresponsible. Foolish. Definitely shameful.
I’m literally doing the ride of shame right now. I let the player get in my pants last night and now the whole town will know.
Not that the people of Taos give two fucks about who I screw. It’s a small town, but it’s not that kind of small town. Maybe if I we were both born and raised here, someone might take note, but no one’s taking notes on my sex life except me.
And maybe Adele, who sent me a text last night saying: Screw the plan.
Well, I screwed something. He definitely wasn’t the plan, though.
The thought of all that screwing makes me rock my hips down over the vibrating seat. My hands rest lightly on Lance’s hips. It feels precarious, but I didn’t want to make direct contact with those washboard abs by holding onto his waist. I tuck a finger through his belt loop, as if that will hold me in place if we get thrown.
Because in the light of day, the Ducati seems like an extremely dangerous machine. Like, where are the seatbelts? And what the hell was I thinking actually driving this thing last night? And for all its speed and power, it’s no comparison to the man driving it. He’s truly a specimen of the ultimate in masculinity. Hard-bodied. Smooth-talking. Sex on wheels.
But there’s no danger today of me falling into bed with him again.
He was good. Extremely talented at making me come, but definitely not my type. No need to go down that path again.
He pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant where my Subaru is still parked, and stops beside it.
I unbuckle his helmet and climb off, then hand it to him. “Thanks for the ride. And for last night.”
“Definitely my pleasure.” He leans on one foot, balancing the bike beneath those powerful thighs. I try to ignore how good he looks in the leather jacket and the motorcycle underneath him. A bad boy out on the prowl. “You want to get dinner sometime?”
Huh. I didn’t expect him to ask me out. But then, I hadn’t expected him to make coffee, either. It’s a little weird. Lance didn’t strike me as the clingy type last night. Far from it.
“Um, no, I’m good.” I put an apology into my expression.
“Let me guess—you don’t date military guys?”
I blink in surprise, then laugh, disarmed. This guy wrote the manual on charm. That cock-sure teasing way he has of getting right to the point probably gets him right into the panties of every girl he turns it on.
“Actually, I do have a rule against it. No offense to you. Last night was really fun. It was just… not something I usually do.”
“Yeah, I get it. Birthday fucks are fun.” He still doesn’t leave. “I guess this is where I refrain from asking for your number.”
“Um, yeah. Sorry.”
I can’t blame a guy for trying. I mean, I expected him to get my number for another booty call. It was the dinner date part that surprised me.
“Well, I like you, Charlie. I want to see you again—with your clothes on. So if you change your mind, let me know.” He hands me a card.
“Uh… okay. Thanks.” I wave the card lamely, then back up and turn to open my car door.
“I mean, clothes off is cool, too,” Lance says to my back.
I turn, shaking my head, a reluctant smile twisting on my lips. There’s that playboy.
“I’m down with seeing you in any state of dress or undress.”
“I’m sure you are.” I toss him a smile as I climb into my car. “I’ll see you around.”
His smile dips a fraction. I’m sure he’s not used to striking out. He puts the helmet on, watching me as I start the car and pull out.
As I drive back into town, I shake my head, confused. It was weird that he tried for a second date. Players don’t usually try to hit it again so soon.
But I don’t need to give last night so much mental real estate. It was a one-off. For fun. For my birthday.
It won’t be happening again. I didn’t agree to see Lance again. I won’t be calling him for that date, or for a booty call or any other reason.
I have a plan, and I’m sticking to it.
Chapter 5
Lance
“Move it.”
“What’s gotten into you?” Channing asks as I elbow him out of the way of the refrigerator. The guy seems to have taken up permanent residence standing in the open door, staring at the food.
I reach past him and grab three packages of bacon, not bothering to answer.