Ride Steady - Kristen Ashley Page 0,108

washed through her face he didn’t like. “I wish I’d remembered you on I-25. I wish I’d done it so I could have had my Blizzard—”

He dropped his spoon in his cup and reached out, grabbing the hand she held her spoon in and holding it tight.

“Stop it.”

“I don’t want you to look back on it and be mad at me.”

“I’m over it.”

“You say that but—”

He gently tugged her hand. “I’m over it, Carrie. You’re takin’ this all on yourself, but don’t forget I had it to give to you, let you off the hook, and I didn’t. I let it go on too long. That’s on me. Don’t take it all on, ’cause it ain’t yours. You fucked up. I fucked up. Even.”

She stared in his eyes. She did this a long time.

Hers started to get bright, but when he was about to say something to stop that shit, she pulled in breath through her nose and said, “I’m glad you cut your hair.”

He knew what that meant. He knew it meant she was glad they were past that. That they had what they had yesterday. That morning. That day. She was glad they were here, eating Blizzards. It meant a lot to her. A fuckuva lot.

And that meant a lot to him.

He let her go, ordering, “Eat your Blizzard.”

“Okay,” she said shakily, turning her attention back to her cup.

But he wasn’t finished.

“Want you done so I can get your ass home and get it naked.”

Her eyes shot to his.

“So hurry,” he said.

The melancholy moved from her face as excitement moved into it which shifted straight to sassy.

“I am not rushing my first Blizzard with Carson Steele.”

“You’ll get other ones from me.”

She straightened her shoulders and got even sassier.

“This is the first one. I’m savoring it.”

“Baby, you’ll savor more, you down that, get your ass in my truck and I get you home. Got a hankerin’ to make my girl feel naughty.”

Another eye flare before she turned her attention direct to her ice cream.

Joker sat back and turned his attention to his.

He did this smiling.

In the end, it was Joker who didn’t feel like making his girl feel naughty.

After their first Blizzard together, as ridiculous as it was, high school crap, a lost fantasy resurrected in a bed with a phenomenal mattress, he took his time. He painstakingly built it for her, for both of them.

But he didn’t fuck Carissa.

He made love to her.

Slowly.

Gently.

So when he made her come, she whispered, “Carson,” into his mouth.

It was the best moment of his life.

And it was that in a way he was determined it wouldn’t remain that way making that moment the first time in his life he wanted more.

And he was going to get it.

Further, even if he had to bust his balls, eat shit, walk through hell…

He was going to give it to her.

* * * * *

Late the next afternoon, Joker had his ass resting on his bike that was parked next to a five-year-old SUV, his arms crossed on his chest, his eyes to the door of the high school.

The last fifteen minutes he was there, he’d gotten looks. He’d gotten questions. He’d given vague answers.

And he’d waited.

The wait was over when he saw Mr. Robinson walk out the door.

Through his shades, Joker took him in. He’d aged, but it was a testament to the man that he didn’t look beaten. He’d been through it to get a kid, but he was also a high school teacher. They got paid dick, put up with a lot of shit, had one of the most important jobs anyone could have, and got little respect, and all he looked like was a man who was leaving work, ready to go home to his wife and dinner.

Joker watched him walk to the SUV, and he wasn’t surprised when Mr. Robinson clocked him almost the minute he walked out the door. He kept Joker in his sights as he walked the ten parking spots to his SUV.

Joker also wasn’t surprised he didn’t let a biker hanging in a teacher’s parking lot slide like the others did.

He stopped and asked, “Can I help you?”

“Good to see you again, Mr. Robinson,” Joker replied.

His head tilted. His eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, do I…?” he started before his face cleared. “Carson?” he asked quietly.

Joker nodded, pushed up from his bike, and walked to the sidewalk.

He extended his hand.

Mr. Robinson took it, his face cracking into a smile.

“Carson,” he repeated, clasping Joker’s hand and pumping it. “Yes.

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