“Nah,” he said. A wicked grin curved his lips as he slid his sunglasses back on. “It gives you that ‘just fucked’ look. Pretty damn sexy, if you ask me.”
My jaw dropped in shock, but his grin only widened. He slung a leg over the motorcycle and reached for me. I closed my mouth with a snap, feeling my cheeks burning as I climbed on behind him.
I’d hoped my new look tonight would make me feel on the same level as Ryker, but he could still one-up me.
He drove us to a restaurant I’d never been to before, a little Italian place that seemed to be family-run. The hostess, an older woman in her sixties, greeted him by name and pressed a kiss to each cheek.
“It’s about time you show your face around here,” she said, admonishing him with a smile.
“I’ve been busy,” Ryker said. “But I’m here tonight, and look, I brought a date.” Taking my hand, he tugged me forward. “This is Sage. Sage, this is Dorothea.”
I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Dorothea waved away my hand, instead grasping my arms and planting a kiss on my cheek.
“Any friend of Dean’s is a friend of ours,” she said. “Come, let me show you to your table.”
It was a cozy place with little tables and booths situated in private alcoves with fake ivy tucked into the ceiling and around the wooden beams. Candles were lit on every table and the booth she showed us to was a round one. I sat, scooting around so there was room for Ryker, who discarded his jacket and slid in next to me.
“A bottle of wine?” Dorothea asked, handing us menus. “I’ll bring a bottle of Chianti,” she added, without waiting for Ryker to respond, “and some calamari”; then she was gone.
He turned to look at me. “Hope you like calamari,” he said, grinning. “We may get to order our own meals, but I doubt it. Dorothea usually has Roberto make me something, whatever’s fresh that day. It’s always amazing.”
I set down the menu. “Sounds good to me.”
And he was right. Dorothea came back with the wine and fresh, crisply fried calamari. She returned again with two plates while three men followed in her wake, each holding a skillet with a different dish of freshly made pasta, which they scooped onto our plates. She chattered the whole time, telling us what the dishes were and then shooing the men away and refilling our glasses.
“This is the best pasta I’ve ever had,” I said, twining long strands of angel hair around my fork.
“Thought it would be better than a salad at a cop bar,” Ryker said.
I laughed. “Definitely.” We’d polished off the better part of the bottle of wine and I was feeling tipsy and very relaxed. Ryker’s denim-clad thigh rested against my leg, his shoulder brushing against me as he ate. I caught myself more than once staring at his hands, large with calloused palms, his fingers deftly maneuvering the pasta. My mind drifted in the direction my hopping hormones were highly in favor of.
“So, I’m pretty sure you promised me the inside scoop on you and Parker,” I said, pushing the mental images away and taking another sip of wine.
“That I did,” Ryker replied, taking a drink from his own wineglass. “It’s not a pretty story. You sure you want to ruin the evening so soon, talking about that asshole?”
My eyes narrowed. “I told you—” I began.
“I know, I know. He’s your boss, don’t talk bad about him, yadda yadda yadda,” he interrupted. “Sorry. I won’t do it again, okay?”
“All right,” I grudgingly agreed. Parker hadn’t stooped to calling Ryker names, even though he had warned me away from him.
“Parker and I go way back,” Ryker said, pushing away his empty plate. He leaned back in the booth and crossed his arms over his chest, drawing my eye to his very nicely muscled biceps. “We grew up together, sort of, though we come from different backgrounds.”
I remembered what Parker had told me about him and Ryker on the opposite sides of the tracks, so to speak, but didn’t say anything. I wanted to know how Ryker characterized their relationship, now that I’d heard Parker’s side.
“Anyway, we were buddies up through high school, even joined the Marines together. But when we came back, he stole a girl from me, and that showed me what he was really made of, when it came right