Free Had to Be You: Bad Boys of Red Hook by Robin Kaye Page A

so not good.
    Nicki skipped past Rocki on her way to the car, Patrice and Callie followed, and Slater brought up the rear.
    Rocki turned to face him and walked backward toward the car. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
    A slow half smile came to his lips—as if a full smile would have been just too much trouble. “I was wondering if you were free. I thought we could grab a bite, maybe go for a ride through the park. It’s probably the last nice day we’ll have until spring, and I don’t know about you, but I’d like to enjoy it. What do you say?”
    She looked around, not sure how to get out of it, not sure she even wanted to. Okay, she didn’t want to get out of it, but she knew she shouldn’t go. “I don’t have a helmet.”
    He pulled one out of the saddlebag and handed it to her. “I have an extra.”
    She stared at the helmet, wishing she had the self-control to hand it back to him and get in Patrice’s car.
    “I bought it today so Nicki could ride with me.” Slater raised a shoulder and Rocki saw a shadow of the tall, lanky geek Patrice had told her about.
    Rocki’s concentration was shattered when Patrice slammed the car door, looked over the roof at her, and waved. “I’ll call you later, Rocki. You two have fun.”
    “Wait!” By the time she yelled, Patrice was already driving away. “It looks like I don’t have much of a choice.”
    “You could always take the subway home, but it’s a hike to the Port Authority, and my bike is more fun. There’s nothing like the feeling of seventy-five horsepower between your legs.”
    She wanted to smack herself—he’d played her like Pavlov played the dogs when he rang the bell. Her conditioned response had her mind going from slightly pissed to over-the-top horny in a nanosecond. The last person she wanted to be horny with was Slater. She stuffed the helmet under her arm, put a hand on her hip, and a
don’t-give-me-shit
cock to her head. “Did you and Patrice have this planned?”
    “No.”
    She stared into his eyes and knew he wasn’t lying. “Just so you know, this isn’t a date.”
    He took the helmet from her and tossed it from one hand to the other like a basketball. “Okay, if it’s not a date, what is it?”
    “It’s nothing.”
    He stepped toward her, placed the helmet with a full face mask on her head, and tightened the chin strap. “That’s good because I’ve been looking forward to doing nothing with you since the first time I saw you.” He flipped the visor down, effectively cutting her off from saying any more. It was a good thing the helmet covered her mouth; she’d hate for him to see her drool.
    •   •   •
    Slater straddled the bike and held his hand out to help Rocki.
    She ignored it, grabbed his shoulder, and threw her leg over.
    “Wrap your arms around my waist and hold on.”
    “No, thanks. I’ll just hang on to the bars back here.”
    “Suit yourself.” He took off, knowing her back would hit the backrest, and her arms flew around his waist before he was out of the parking lot.
    “You did that on purpose.”
    Damn straight he did. But then there was no reason to tell her she was right. She knew it. “Are you hungry? We could have a picnic in the park.” He took the turn onto Twelfth Avenue a little tight and her arms squeezed his waist, her thighs squeezed his hips, and her breasts flattened against his back.
    She didn’t answer but then he didn’t really expect her to. The bike and the beautiful day were working their magic. It’s hard to say no to a longer ride on a perfect day, and with Rocki holding on to him, he was having a hard time seeing anything that wasn’t perfect—well, except for the fact that Rocki really didn’t want to be with him. She wanted on the bike—sure. She wanted to take a ride—hell, yeah. But with him—not so much.
    He headed uptown, turned onto Fifty-Eighth Street to Columbus Circle and Central Park West, and wondered how to handle Rocki. And by God, he did