Read Online Slow Ride by Erin McCarthy - Free Book Online Page B

supposed to be there?”
    “Fifteen minutes ago,” she called from the recesses of her bedroom.
    “Then why don’t I just drive you to the brunch? Someone can give you a ride to your car after.” It was the least he could do. He was feeling a little responsible for her predicament. He should have thought the whole thing through a little better the night before, given that he’d been the sober one.
    She came out wearing a short dress and black high heels, shoving her arm into several bracelets, a pink bag in her hand. “Really? That’s awesome of you. Okay, I’m ready.”
    Given that her hair was still wet, she didn’t look ready to him, but he knew better than to argue with a woman about her hair. “Okay.” He stood up. “Want me to grab your coffee?”
    “Oh, my God, yes. Thanks, Diesel.”
    He went and fetched the cup out of the bathroom, trying to ignore the sight of her panties and bra strewn across the tile floor. No time for that. None whatsoever.
    Tuesday was grabbing a little black purse and her keys and in a minute they were outside, her slamming the door with such violence that she actually winced.
    “Oh, God, my head.”
    “You look a lot better. Cute dress.” Which sounded so lame the minute it came out of his mouth he almost groaned out loud. He was turning into a fourteen-year-old boy around her.
    “Thanks. I’m glad you’re driving so I can slap on some makeup and pull my hair back. We’ll pretend its hair gel giving it a slicked-back look.”
    A certain scene from a movie involving something that was decidedly not hair gel popped into his head. He needed to get a goddamn grip and fast.
    “Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?” she said as she closed the passenger door of his car and flipped down the visor to reveal the mirror.
    Because he was struggling with horniness.
    “No particular reason.”
    “God, I don’t want to go to this. Everyone is going to be there with their husbands and boyfriends and there will be me, the morning-after girl.”
    “But you didn’t have sex last night so it’s all good.” Neither had he. Damn. Diesel put his car in reverse and stomped harder on the gas than was necessary.
    “That’s not the point. I get tired of being the single girl everyone feels sorry for. Don’t they know I’m perfectly fine?”
    The words his uncle had spoken to him earlier popped into his head. Fine, yes. But happy? Diesel wasn’t sure about himself, and he suspected if pressed, Tuesday would be even less sure.
    “I hear ya on that one. My uncle is trying to convince me to go to something at his church where a certain single woman will just happen to be. I do think we’re all a little old to be fixed up by our families.”
    “No shit.” She smeared something on her face and worked it around with her fingers. “I’ll give you twenty bucks if you go to this brunch with me.”
    The hell he would. “You’ve mistaken me for someone stupid.”
    “Oh, come on. You’ll get a good meal out of it.”
    “I’m wearing jeans.” Not that he was even considering it. He didn’t want a bunch of women grilling him on how he knew Tuesday.
    “So what? Come on . . . please?” Her voice took on a wheedling quality that set off alarms in Diesel.
    He was helpless against women when they did that, got all soft and needy and pleading. He chanced a glance over at her and her eyes were big and beautiful, the dark circles under them still evident. Damn it.
    He was going to give in. He could feel it. But he was getting something out of this himself. “I’ll go to the brunch if you go to night at the races at church with me.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “You drive a hard bargain, Lange.”
    “Saturday night. You in or out?”
    Tuesday looked away, checking her reflection in the mirror again. “Fine. I’ll go.”
    It wasn’t the most normal way to go about getting a date, but Diesel had to admit, he was strangely thrilled at the thought of spending more time with Tuesday, even at a