Ride Steady Read online

  With the drama over, he realized he could smell it. He also realized she hadn’t cooked anything for him but that pie. But from his experience of the pie, and what he could smell, he knew she was about to give him something else that was going to make him fall more in love with her.

  “You do Travis, I’ll sort our dinner,” she ordered.

  “Gotcha,” he muttered, moving to the cupboard with the baby food, fighting back a grin just thinking of Pete putting the money there.

  “Gah, duh, buh, buh, buh, muh!” Travis placed his order when Joker opened the cupboard.

  “Carson?” she called.

  He twisted her way.

  Then he stilled.

  She said nothing. Just looked at him.

  But the softness of her features. The warmth in her eyes. The way she held her body. She didn’t need to say anything.

  That said it all.

  Then her face got softer, her eyes warmer, and she pursed her lips slightly, making no noise, but blowing him a kiss.

  After that she turned away.

  Joker turned back to the cupboard and his voice was rougher than normal when he asked Travis, “What do you think, boy? Carrots?”

  “Buh nuh,” Travis declined, and Joker looked at him to see him staring into the cupboard with serious baby face.

  Joker smiled.

  Then, his chest light, precious held in his arm, his boots on the floor of a kitchen in a house owned by good people and occupied by his dream, he picked sweet potato and beef.

  Carissa

  That Sunday, I stood in Joker’s room at the Compound in my boyfriend jeans, Converse, and the Ride tee I’d splurged on as a no-more-attorney’s-fee celebration (Speck, at the cash register in the store, tried to give it to me for free, I refused, we made a deal at forty percent off so it was a very small splurge).

  I was staring around at the mess that had accumulated in what I’d thought was a short period of time since I last cleaned.

  Travis was crawling through the debris, which was mostly dirty clothes, and thankfully no choking hazards like coins, having the time of his life.

  We’d been headed to lunch, but on the way Joker had to stop to have a quick meeting with his brothers.

  So there I was, facing what might not have been as colossal as the first challenge, but it was still a mess.

  My body jerked when Joker surprisingly rounded the door much earlier than I expected, announcing, “Meet’s done, Butterfly.”

  “That didn’t take long,” I noted.

  “It was important, but there wasn’t much to say,” he replied, not coming to me, going straight to Travis, whereupon I watched him bend deep and gently pull the sock Travis was about to shove in his mouth out of his baby fist. “We don’t suck on socks, kid, dirty or otherwise.”

  Travis, sitting on his booty, slammed his fists into his thighs and yelled, “Bah, jah, kah, lah!”

  “Whatever,” Joker returned, grabbed him and lifted him up.

  Travis squealed in protest, preferring the wonders of Joker’s floor to what I thought was far more wondrous, being in his arms.

  “You wanna go?” he asked me.

  “Do you ever do laundry?” I asked him.

  “Not until I have to,” he told me.

  “Has it occurred to you that you can dump your clothes on my floor and the miracle of Tyra’s washing machine will get them clean when I do laundry, something that happens regularly?”

  The air in the room went electric, but I didn’t understand it.

  “Joker?” I called when he stood there, holding a struggling Travis, who wanted to be back on the floor. “Carson,” I said when he still didn’t reply.

  Joker shook his head shortly, shaking himself out of his strange stupor.

  Then he said, “Carrie, told you you don’t have to do payback like that.”

  “I do laundry, Joker. I’m a woman. I like clean clothes,” I returned. “I’m also a mother who likes her son to be in clean clothes. In other words, it’s no skin off my nose my biker’s jeans and tees are in a load with the rest of our stuff.”

  His voice was oddly gentle when he stated, “Baby, I see you’re not gettin’ this is a leap in where we’re headin’, and as much as I like that leap, I’m not takin’ it without you gettin’ it.”

  “Getting what?”

  “Me droppin’ my clothes on your floor.”

  “I would prefer the hamper,” I replied. “But I’ll take the floor if I don’t have to haul your stuff from here to home or make a special trip and do it in the machines here.”

  “Carrie, you’re still not getting it,” he pushed carefully.

  “What?” I asked impatiently.

  “A man and woman are in a certain place, he drops his clothes on her floor.”

  I threw my hands in the air. “Well, obviously. But I’m seeing you don’t get it. A woman has to be in a certain place with a man to let him feed her baby and claim him every time he’s even close. So I’m there. A handsome biker is the only being that stops to help me with my tire in rush hour, congested traffic on I-25, that biker being all that’s you, I got there quickly. It’s you lagging behind, leaving your dirty clothes in the wrong building.”

  The air started zapping when he whispered, “Are you seriously asking me to move in with you?”

  My head jerked to the side in surprise.

  He was usually so quick.

  “Do I have to ask? I mean,” I tossed a hand to the bed, “when’s the last time you slept here?”

  He didn’t answer.

  I kept at him. “Am I yours?”

  “Fu…” He clenched his teeth and forced out, “Yes.”

  “So what am I not getting?” I asked.

  “It’s fast,” he pointed out.

  “Okay, it is,” I agreed. “But is it wrong?”

  He stared at me.

  Then he said, “No.”

  “If it freaks you out, we won’t make it official,” I offered. “We can make it official when you take me on a date where I can wear my fabulous new top I haven’t been able to wear since Elvira bought it for me. But we can start by you leaving your laundry where it’s convenient for me.”

  Joker kept staring at me.

  “So should we get a trash bag or do you have a duffel or something?” I prompted.

  He didn’t move.

  “Joker,” I called.

  That’s when he did it.

  It.

  It being putting his hand up to cover the side of Travis’s head and pressing the other side into his chest, before saying, “Shits me how bad I wanna fuck you right now, seein’ as I can’t do it.”

  It was my turn to say nothing.

  Because part of it was the fact that I just then noticed, since the meeting with Angie, he’d cursed, but only in front of me.

  Never in front of Travis.

  Except right then, when Travis would have no idea what he said, but because I didn’t want it, Joker made it so he couldn’t hear it anyway.

  Then more of it happened right there in front of me.

  Travis shrieked, pushed away, grabbed Joker’s thumb, shoved it in his mouth, and bit down. He was a baby so everything went into his mouth. But he’d been teething for a while and had one coming in, so that bite and his current stubbornness was about that. And I knew from experience it didn’t feel all that great.

  Joker didn’t even wince.

  And taking that in, I knew more of it was knowing Joker was going to be an excellent father, and I knew this because he already was one. He might not share blood with my boy and Travis already had a dad.

  But now he had two.

  Another part of it was what he said giving me a shiver, making me want what he wanted in a way I wanted it too, right there, right then. And I loved that he wanted it. I loved that my handsome, manly man biker wanted me, just as I was, making me feel wantable.

  And the last part of that it was that leaving his laundry for me, which meant leaving his clot
hes at my house, meant a great deal to him. He wanted that. And he showed me he did.

  Finally I pulled it together.

  “Is there anyone out there to watch Travis for half an hour?” I asked and it came out breathy.

  “Sunday plans. All a’ them. They scattered,” Joker answered and it came out rough.

  “Darn,” I whispered.

  “Later,” he said and it was a promise. I could tell by the look on his face that made me shiver again.

  “Okay.” I was still whispering.

  “Naughty,” he said softly.

  Another shiver. A bigger one. And my legs started shaking.

  “Okay,” I repeated breathily.

  “Now, lunch.”

  I nodded.

  “After I feed you, we’ll come back and get my laundry.”

  Another nod, but this time I did it with the curious feeling of being utterly delighted at the thought of having more laundry.

  He lifted his hand my way. “Come here, Butterfly.”

  I went there.

  I took his hand.

  He gripped mine tight.

  Then he walked us out of his room to his truck, where he put my son in his car seat in the back.

  He took us to lunch.

  And later, after we went back and collected his laundry in a duffel (as well as a plastic bag), while Travis had his afternoon nap, Joker made good on his promise.

  We had a quiet, necessarily muffled but spectacular laundry celebration on my couch.

  And it was naughty.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Waver

  Joker

  THE NEXT EVENING, Joker sat in his truck, idling at the curb in front of a huge-ass house that screamed I’m fucking loaded.

  He did this watching Carissa walk up the path to the home she once shared with her ex-jackhole, carrying her kid and his diaper bag.

  He’d parked visible and he’d done it so he could watch and be seen.

  Not surprisingly, the jackhole opened the door.

  Also not surprisingly, even after Carissa gave her boy kisses and cuddles and handed him and the bag over, her jackhole kept her engaged in conversation.

  Further not surprisingly, he saw the jackhole clock him the minute the man had opened the door.

  As this went on, Joker didn’t honk. He didn’t get out of the truck, round it, and make his presence known more aggressively by leaning against it and watching. Or more aggressive than that, walking up to the house.

  He waited.

  It cost him.

  But Carissa was who she was, where she was, with that jackhole, and where she was with Joker.

  So as he knew she’d do, when she’d had enough, she shut it down and turned her back, walking away while the guy was still talking.

  Joker looked to the steering wheel and fought back a grin.

  He heard the door open and turned his head to watch her get in.

  The second her door was closed and she reached for the belt, he didn’t fuck around getting them on the road.

  He heard the click and stopped crawling, putting on the gas as he asked, “You okay?”

  “Every time, hate that.” She paused and it was lower when she repeated, “Hate it.”

  He could see that, he didn’t like it much either.

  “What can I give you, Butterfly?” he asked quietly.

  She didn’t answer.

  He glanced at her. “Want dinner?”

  “Not hungry,” she mumbled.

  “Wanna talk?” he offered.

  “Nothing to talk about,” she said.

  “He give you shit?” Joker asked.

  “Just asked a bunch of stuff about Travis. How our week went. He’s never asked before, so it isn’t hard to read he doesn’t really care now. It’s just the game he’s playing.”

  “He talk about paying the attorney?”

  “No, though he did look like he expected me to say something. But I’m not gonna say thanks for him taking care of a debt he gave me.”

  Oh yeah, the guy expected her to say something. And it was a good play she didn’t give him what he wanted.

  “You want, next time you stay in the truck, I’ll take Trav up to the door,” Joker offered.

  “I might want,” she said quietly, and he glanced at her again to see she was looking out the side window.

  “You up for tomorrow night?” he asked, looking back at the road and hoping a subject change might help.

  But even as he hoped, he knew this sucked. He had her while her kid wasn’t around and she was Carissa. She was his girl. It was good to the point it was awesome.

  But having her when her kid was around was something else. She was Carissa, his girl, his girl with both her boys with her, and that made her so happy it wasn’t good. It was spectacular.

  He could tell she’d turned to face him when she asked, “Dinner with the people who made your life bearable when you were with your dad?”

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  “Absolutely,” she declared resolutely.

  He glanced at her again then back to the road before he asked carefully, “Nervous?”

  “No. I give good girlfriend. Aaron’s folks always loved me. Until he kicked me out, that is.”

  He bit back laughter, not questioning the fact she gave good girlfriend since he was well acquainted with that, but he still warned, “Mrs. Heely lost her boy. He was in the military. Died servin’. Then she unofficially adopted me. I’ve never tested it, but thinkin’ she might be protective.”

  “Good,” she stated.

  “And picky,” he went on.

  “She should be. You deserve the best.”

  He grinned at the road, muttering, “Lucky I got that.”

  That was when he felt her fingers curl around his thigh.

  He switched hands on the steering wheel and pulled her fingers from his thigh by wrapping his around hers. Then he rested them there, giving them a squeeze.

  “A week, we’ll have him back,” he said softly.

  “A week, we will,” she replied the same way.

  They fell silent as he drove them home.

  They remained mostly silent when they got home, reheated leftover carnitas, and ate them camped out on the couch.

  Joker did this, giving Carissa time to deal with losing her boy. He didn’t give her space, because she made it clear she didn’t want that, sticking close, being her usual touchy with him, but he gave her space in her head.

  He took that time to be in his own head.

  He’d shifted his patrol every time he was up since she gave herself to him. Two weeks, he was with her every night all night.

  This wasn’t a problem. Without a woman or kids in his life, he’d taken patrol for his brothers so often, he had enough markers to be with her a month and still have some to spare.

  But he needed to get back on the street.

  Tack wanted the Club to claim more territory and the Club had agreed. They’d pushed and they got the same action, just more of it, warning dealers and hookers off their expanded patch.

  It had gone easy, too easy. The boys were suspicious. No one was saying anything, and Benito Valenzuela hadn’t struck back, but Joker needed to get on the street. He needed to get the feel of it. Talk to his sources. Get his presence out there. Be one with his brothers and show that to those who should see it.

  Carissa didn’t know he did patrol, and he’d have to get into that with her soon. He’d give her that night because she needed it. He’d give himself the next night because it was a big night for him, Carissa, Linus, Mrs. Heely.

  But Wednesday, his ass had to be on the street.

  So they had to have that conversation.

  Not then.

  Just soon.

  On this thought, he decided he needed another beer. Their plates were on the coffee table, so he also decided they should be in the sink.

  He was about to see to that when Carissa moved, suddenly swinging over to straddle him.

>   He tipped his head back, putting his hands to her hips as he looked to her eyes to see them on his tee.

  “Baby?” he whispered.

  She lifted her gaze to his. “Need you.”

  There was something in her tone. Something he didn’t like. It was the same thing she gave him with her words and the look on her face.

  It was need.

  But what she needed… no, why she needed it, right then, suddenly swinging astride him, that tone in her voice, the look on her face troubled him.

  Regardless, she needed it, so he was going to give it to her.

  He slid his hands up her sides and whispered, “Take what you need.”

  She took him up on his offer.

  But she didn’t kiss him.

  She latched on to his tee and pulled it up. He lifted his arms for her and she tugged it free, tossing it behind the couch.

  Then she went in.

  Not to his mouth.

  To his neck.

  She spent time there then curved her back to give the same to his chest.

  His nipples.

  Down, he opened his legs as she slid off his lap onto her knees on the floor.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  She was going to suck him off.

  She hadn’t done that yet, and just the thought of watching her honey curls spread around his crotch as she worked him with her mouth made his cock, already stiff with what she’d been giving him, throb.

  He wanted that.

  But she hadn’t gone there. Not yet. He got her loose and gave her good but he did all the work.

  This didn’t bother him. He liked it. Got off on it. Got off on her getting off on it.

  But even as he wanted it, her giving this to him now didn’t sit right.

  She slid her lips across the waistband of his jeans and his voice was thick when he asked, “You takin’ what you need, Butterfly, or givin’ me what you think I need?”

  She tilted her head back, fingers to his fly, and he bit his lip as the pulse in his cock pulled up his balls with just one look at her face.

  She was in the zone.

  Totally.

  “I need to give you what you need,” she whispered.

  “Baby, let me give that to you,” he whispered back as she released button two.

  She shook her head. “Not this time, sweetheart.”

  She couldn’t miss he gave it all but still, it felt good knowing she didn’t.