Ride Wild(22)

Or want them again . . .

"Which is?"

"Well, a lot of people who employ nannies apparently provide vehicles. So I was thinking maybe you could have my truck to use."

She frowned. "What about you?"

He ducked his chin, his gaze dropping to the floor between them. And then he gave a little shrug. "I have my bike."

It was only because he wasn't looking at her that she didn't rein in the  surprise that must've hit her expression. Because Slider had never once  ridden his motorcycle the whole time she'd known him. Not even in the  procession at the funeral of the prospect who'd died a few months back  during an attack on the clubhouse. Hell, he didn't even wear his Ravens'  cutoff jacket like all the other brothers did. And Cora had heard more  than a little commentary around the clubhouse that Slider hadn't ridden  or participated much in club business in years. It was like when Kim  died, she'd somehow taken all the other parts of Slider's life with her.  All except the boys.

"Your bike," she managed.

Another little shrug. "Yeah. I mean, I'm sure it needs a tune-up, but I've been thinking . . ."

She held her breath and prayed for him to finish that thought, because  she really wanted to know what was going on in this man's head. But he  offered no more.

"Anyway, you could have the truck and then you wouldn't need to put out money on a car." He lifted that pale gaze to her again.

For a moment, Cora wasn't sure what to say. On the one hand, she really  wanted him to get back into riding again. Because it was something for  him. And it was something that would pull him back into the club he'd  once loved. And Slider couldn't go on forever isolating himself from  everything about which he used to care.

On the other hand . . . "That's really generous, Slider. And I'm  definitely tempted. The thing is, as much as I'd love to save the money,  I'm also eager to do this for myself. To feel like I've achieved a  major life event. Not that buying a car is that major, I guess, it's  just-"

"No, I get it. And it is. It's something to be proud of. So, sure, yeah, count me in. I'd be happy to help."

Cora could've squealed, but instead she just grinned like an idiot.

He arched a brow. "And when did you want to do this?"

"Today?" she squeaked, knowing he had the day and night off. "Or, you know, not today . . ."

He stared at her, and finally shook his head. "You're as bad as Ben. Both of you make it impossible to say no."

A fleeting wisecrack jumped to the tip of her tongue about how he'd been  able to say no to more sex, but she was too excited about possibly  buying a car today to give it voice. Besides, she'd agreed to the no  more sex rule, too, hadn't she? "Is that a yes to today?"

Four hours later, they were browsing their second car lot. Slider had  talked her out of one car for being expensive to repair and convinced  her that another wasn't a good value given its mileage.                       
       
           



       

"Ooh, this one's pretty," Cora said, coming up to a red sedan. She  peered in at the tan leather seats as Slider went to the sticker on the  window.

"Cops love to tag speeding red cars. How heavy is your foot?" he asked.

She chuckled. "I mean, I'm no grandma, but I don't approach the highway like it's a racetrack, either."

He smirked at her, bringing his dimple out to play, and it was a look  that drew her right back into his bed. "Never in a million years would I  take you for a grandma."

She cleared her throat. "Right. So. Actually, now that I think of it,  Bunny could be a grandma and she could probably kick my ass, so maybe I  shouldn't use grandmas as my reference point," she said in a flustered  rush. "Anyway, what do you think?" The amount looked reasonable, and  with just under forty thousand miles, the mileage looked good, too.

"Camrys are very reliable. I've seen more than a few of them hit two  hundred thousand miles before nickel and diming their owners. You should  take it for a spin."

Cora grinned, a grin that only got bigger when she was behind the wheel  and driving the car up Interstate 70. It rode like a dream. And it had a  great sound system. And a moon roof. She was in love, but she knew she  was supposed to be playing it cool.

"Push it going up the mountain," Slider said from the passenger's seat. "I want to see what its pickup is like."

"Okay," she said, hitting the gas and moving into the passing lane. From  the backseat, the car salesman started extolling the virtues of the  car's V6 engine, but all Cora could focus on was Slider's big body  filling her car-because it already felt like her car-his posture  relaxed, his thighs spread. Her brain very unhelpfully imagined all the  ways they could break her car in, none of which fell into the no more  sex category. Stupid brain.

The car took the mountain without any resistance at all.

She grinned at Slider and tried to telegraph her thoughts: I love it so  much! His expression was amused as he shook his head, and it made the  skin crinkle around his eyes. And, damn, humor on his face made him even  more good-looking. He'd taken to wearing a bit of scruff on his jaw,  and Cora couldn't look at it without remembering the way it had felt  against her face and breasts and thighs.

She hadn't minded the bite of that scruff, not one freaking bit.

Finally, they returned to the car lot, and the salesman turned to Slider. "So, what do you think?"

Slider's gaze narrowed. "Ask the lady, she's your customer."

"Oh, of course." The older man turned to her with a smile. "And what do you think, little lady?"

Seriously? Now her eyes were the ones narrowing. Thankfully, Slider had  given her advice on negotiating on price and all the games car salesmen  played, so she had some idea what to say and do. "I like it, but it is  older than I was hoping for. And I'm worried about the color being so  flashy. I've heard the police go after red cars that speed more than  other colors." She twisted her lips as if she were truly debating.

The man dove in with his counterarguments, but Cora started walking down  the line of cars again as if she weren't wedded to her beautiful red  baby.

She sighed and glanced at Slider. "Maybe we should go see that other car  again, don't you think, honey?" She couldn't look at his face as she  called him that, not because she thought he'd be angry, but because if  he wore any surprise on his face, it would make her laugh.

Hands in his pockets, he nodded. "Yeah, babe. This one could use new tires, too, to be honest. So that's another expense."

Inside, her reactions warred between Babe! and Oh, no, did it really  need new tires? She gave Slider a look and caught both the suppressed  humor and the minute shake of his head. She almost really did laugh,  then. They were totally teaming up on this poor salesman. Not that she  really felt bad for him.

"How about this," the man said. Herb. That was actually his name. "Why  don't we go inside and let me talk to my manager about what else we  might be able to do on the price."

"Will it take long?" Cora asked. "Because I really think I need to see this other car I was looking at."

"Oh, no, ma'am," he said, escorting them inside. So she'd risen in stature from little lady to ma'am. Interesting.

When Slider and Cora were alone in Herb's office, she whispered, "I want this car so bad I might die."

"I know, little lady. I know." Slider winked at her. "Just keep playing it disinterested."                       
       
           



       

Oh, man, Playful Slider was even more appealing than Talkative Slider. Gah.

Finally, Herb returned with a deal sheet that took eight hundred off the price of the car.

Cora stood up, and Slider rose with her. "Oh, I'm sorry, Herb. I thought  you were interested in my business. Given that the car needs tires,  that price needs to come down at least another twelve hundred before  I'll think you're serious. If that's not possible, please tell me now so  I can head back to that other dealer."

"Oh, no, no. Please sit, I'm sure we can work something out." Herb  gestured to their chairs. With a little back-and-forth, he came down  another seven hundred, which had been Cora's goal all along. She was  completely flipping out on the inside. "I'll write it up," he said,  shaking her hand.

"Write it up with new floor mats, Herb. Won't you?" Slider asked,  eyebrows arched, hands crossed over his flat belly, legs extended, and  ankles crossed. The picture of ease. The picture of sex on a stick, too.

Cora wanted to hug him. Or kiss him. Or straddle him in that chair.

Herb sighed. "I'll see what I can do."