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“Jesus, Chase,” I mutter, my face flushing. “Can you lay off the bedroom talk? We’re in public, with family.”
Butch and Candy seem unbothered with our convo, but it doesn’t mean I am.
“No can do. You took me as is, cave dweller mode and all. Now hold me like you mean it.”
Inwardly, I’m squealing like an excited teenager, having grown fond of Chase’s alpha behavior. Outwardly, I huff with annoyance as I straitjacket myself to his back. To be an extra pain, I rub my pussy against his butt, like he instructed.
“You happy, Caveman?”
A dark chuckle rumbles through his broad back. “Fucking love it when you get bratty. The ride is going to give me a long time to think about how I’ll punish you later for it.” He starts his bike, revving the engine to cut off my sassy comeback.
Geez.This guy is going to ruin my panties.
The bike purrs as Chase pulls out of the parking lot, cruising down the road. I cling to Chase’s back, enjoying the breeze on my heated face. After working relentlessly on the case in a sweltering glass box, this ride is a welcome relief. The crew’s obsessions with riding motorcycles suddenly makes sense. It’s liberating.
Butch follows beside us, with Candy perched behind him. Her arms fly out to her sides like a bird in flight as she crows happily into the wind. I laugh at her enthusiasm.
“They look good together,” I yell to Chase as we fly down the road, hoping he can hear me over the roar of the engine.
“We look better,” he shouts back.
“You’re biased.”
Chase shrugs. He removes one hand from his handlebars, running it down my calf and giving it a gentle squeeze. Where he touches me causes my skin to break out in goosebumps. The man knows exactly how to affect me in the most stimulating of ways.
“Don’t care if I’m biased. I only care about you.”
I hold him tighter, absorbing as much of him and his leather and peppermint scent as I can.
Chase signals to Butch with his hand. His brother nods, saluting us before turning off on a different road. Candy waves goodbye to us. I give her a small wave in return, keeping my arm close to Chase’s body, for fear of losing my grip on him. I’m nowhere near as bold on a motorcycle as her. Maybe someday, when I’ve grown accustomed to riding with Chase, I’ll be more relaxed.
We cruise along another handful of minutes, soaking up the sun while being cooled by the wind whipping around our bodies. Chase eases up on the gas, coasting us into the McKinley Rose Garden, one of the oldest botanical gardens in the city. Late fall isn’t the prime time of the year to enjoy the roses that peak in the spring. Still, the lush gardens are lovely, showcasing a wide variety of seasonal colors and blooms.
This setting is unexpected. I don’t know what I had in mind for Chase planning a first date, but I wouldn’t be surprised with a brewery or war memorial museum. This is a pleasant surprise.
“What? Didn’t take me for a romance-and-flowers kind of man?” he taunts with a smile, helping me remove my helmet.
“No,” I admit. “Ax-throwing bars seems more your style.”
He chuckles. “They are. It’s on the agenda for our next date. But for our first, I’m taking you for a walk through flowers, since giving you a bouquet isn’t enough. You, Numbers, deserve all the flowers.”
My heart patters happily as my chest fills with warmth. “Damn. You’re sweet.”
“Only for you.” He takes my hand in his, guiding me along the grassy paths. I’m happy I settled on flats today when choosing my outfit. My heels would have sunk right into the earth.
We walk through the butterfly habitat garden, commenting on the tranquil beauty around us before finding a bench to sit and enjoy the space. Chase throws his bulky arm around my shoulder, pulling me snug to his side. He presses his nose into my hair, inhaling deeply.
“These flowers are okay, but nothing compares to your floral musk. Nothing compares to you.”
His words are beautiful, though I detect a hint of tightness in his tone. Twice, I’ve sensed something is off with him. Perhaps he’s looking for reciprocation, and I’m more than happy to confess my feelings toward this man. I open my mouth to tell him I love him when he interrupts me with an update in the case.
“I hate to talk shop while we’re enjoying a break, but I thought you’d like to hear some good news. Butch found the money dumped in an offshore account, like you predicted. I spent a good deal of time today trying to retrieve those funds.”
“Oh! This is good news?”
“Yes, and no.” Chase explains we still don’t know who’s responsible for stealing the money, and Bianchi’s money isn’t accounted for. He then tells me how Trent was forced by Luca Amato to open the account for Lorenzo Bianchi.
“Jesus,” I mutter, rubbing my temples. “What a mess.”
