Charity Case - The Complete Series - Piper Rayne Page 0,138

this place. I’m half tempted to move you out.”

His jeans are slightly worn but still have that new look to them. His Cubs shirt and jersey pull at his shoulders and I realize that he opted to skip the hat, too. Though his hair is messier than when I was at his office. Must be his casual Saturday look.

“Is this okay? Since it’s a work thing.” I motion to what I’m wearing.

He looks me over. “I don’t know. Spin.”

I glare at him and he chuckles.

“Worth a try.”

I grab my cell phone, tucking it into my crossbody purse and get set to leave.

“Ready?” I ask.

“Let’s go see the Cubs kick the Sox ass.”

I roll my eyes. We clear the doorway and I lock my door, Dean waiting for me the entire time.

As we make our way to the elevator, his hand finds mine and he entwines our fingers. “I figure we should get used to it. They think you’re my girlfriend.” He presses the elevator button.

“Not your ex-wife.”

“I don’t like them knowing too much about me.”

I raise both eyebrows at him. “So, you want me to pretend I’m your girlfriend?”

“Are you seeing anyone else?” he asks and I’m half-tempted to lie.

“Technically, I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Do you swallow every one of your date’s tongues?”

The elevator arrives, we step in and I purposely leave space between us. “You swallowed mine, for the record.”

He chuckles. “I’d swallow a hell of a lot more if you’d let me.”

There goes the hot flash like I’m a menopausal fifty-year-old woman.

“I think I’d be the one swallowing.” Tit for tat.

“You always were a gamer when it came to that. Then again, it’s probably because you didn’t want a mess.” He winks.

Thankfully, the elevator doors open, and we exit the apartment building.

“It’s so sunny,” I exclaim.

“Like a true summer day.” He captures my hand again and leads me down the street.

“Public transportation today?” I ask as he weaves me through the crowded weekend streets.

“Nope.”

“Are we walking?”

If we are, I’m going to be really pissed. I’m not wearing my running shoes.

“Nope.”

“Then how are we getting there?”

He stops and stares down at the two-wheel vehicle parked under the train line.

My eyes widen, and I look over at him. “I’m going to look like shit when we get there.”

“No, you won’t. Come on.”

I stare down at the motorcycle while Dean bends down, grabbing the two helmets out of the side compartments.

“You do remember how to ride, right?”

I snatch the helmet from his grasp. “Of course, I do.” I place it over my head cringing to myself over the amount of time I spent on my hair this morning. “You’re buying me a hat when we get there.”

“Done.” He puts on his helmet which feels odd to see on him. He never wore one in college and his bike was nothing like this one. Obviously, tax attorneys do well for themselves.

He hops on first, kicking up the stand and straightening it out for me. I get on and straddle him, my arms locked around his middle until we get started.

He eases out into Chicago traffic and I assume this is going to be a nightmare of a ride because traffic on the weekend is a constant stop and go. But I should’ve known better.

The true Dean comes out a minute into the ride. He doesn’t wait behind the cars stopped in front of him. Instead, he zooms ahead and beats the next car off the line and veers into that lane before almost running into the back of the bus.

“I’m not interested in dying today,” I say loud enough for him to hear. My hands are wrapped tightly around his middle and my helmet is pressed against his back for fear of watching what is surely going to be a crazy ride.

“You’re always safe with me.”

He stops at a light, his feet landing on the cement, and my body relaxes a little. We’re only blocks away from the field and as much as I shouldn’t, I’m hoping he brought the bike so that we can go somewhere after. Like an open road like we used to do.

Just as I’m adjusting to his way of riding, Wrigley comes into view. He stops at the curb of the place where we head up to the rooftops. Lifting up the flap of his helmet, him and the valet guy talk—Dean not about to let him ride the bike, so the guy directs him to an alley.

“You get off here,” Dean says, and I ease myself away