Lie to Me (4 page)

“But it’s not from any other woman.  It’s from Dee.”  Ryder took another mouthful of Coke.  “She’s different.”

Simon closed his eyes.  “And there you have it.”

“Have what?”

“She’s different.”

‘Trust me, there’s no one else like Dee.  That sheila is one-of-a-kind.”

“That she is.”  Scott relaxed back in his chair.

Sitting on the veranda step, his back against the post, Ryder looked out at the back yard.  Scott’s fiancée, Ash, had the vegetable patch filled with veggies, fruit trees planted, and the rose bushes blooming.  The back yard looked a whole lot better than when Scott had lived by himself.  Scott’s fat tabby, Tilly, was lying on her back in front of Scott’s chair having her tummy rubbed by his big foot.  Scott was the picture of contented domesticity.

Ryder didn’t think he’d ever really understand that kind of longing.  Tying himself to one woman?  He doubted that would ever happen.  Find that one special woman?  It’d be a special woman, all right, if not a downright miracle.  Besides, as his Mum always said, it would take a miracle for any woman to take on her randy son and keep him on the monogamous track.

Dee was kind of like him.  It would take a special man to take on that sharp-tongued shrew.  A brave man.  A man who could take control and show her who was boss.

She’d probably rip any man fool enough to try, feed him his donger for breakfast.

Grinning a little, Ryder shook his head as he watched a mud lark sitting on the fence eyeing off Tilly.  Golden-eyes slitted in pleasure, Tilly kneaded the air with her front paws, happily oblivious.

“How long are you going to indulge that fat little fart?” Ryder asked.

“For as long as she wants,” Scott returned.  “And she’s not fat, numb nuts.  She’s cuddly.”

Grinning, Ryder took a mouthful of Coke.  Truthfully, he liked Tilly.  She amused him no end, but it also amused him to tease Scott about his beloved cat and Tilly provided plenty of fodder.  Scott leaped to her defence every time without fail.

“Maybe you should put Tilly on a diet.”

“Maybe you better shut your gob,” Scott returned.

“I’m just saying.”

“I’ll say something with my fist in a minute.”

“My my.  You are a little sensitive today.”

“Not as sensitive as having dry rot.”

Okay, that was a low blow.  “Bastard.”

Scott grinned crookedly.  “I’m just saying.”

Ryder flipped him the bird as he drained the last of the Coke and stood, stretching leisurely.

“Going somewhere?” Simon placed his hands behind his head.

“Some of us have things to do.”

“Such as apply antibiotic ointment on delicate spots?”

“Such as work.”  Tossing the empty can into the bin, Ryder shrugged into the leather jacket.  “Hey, listen.  I’ve got Wednesday off, was thinking of going for a trip on the bike to Ellor’s Loop.  Who’s in?”

“Me,” Simon said.

“Can’t.”  Scott sighed.  “I’m working.”

“Bummer.  What about Kirk?”

“Not sure.”

“No worries, I’ll see him later.”  Ryder picked up the helmet.  “Please, don’t get up on my account.”

“We won’t,” Simon assured him.

“Don’t feel that you have to walk me to the bike or anything.”

“We don’t.”

“Glad we got that straight.”

Eyes still closed, Simon gave a half flap of his hand.  “See you later.  Drive safely.  Call me when you get home.  Don’t pick up any hitchhikers.”

“Sure, Mum.”

“There’s a good boy.”  Opening one eye, Simon puckered his lips.  “Come and give your old Mum a kiss goodbye.”

“Give you a kiss with my foot up your arse.”  Ryder threw his friends a salute.  “Catch you later.”

“I’d get up and be the good host,” Scott said, “but Tilly needs me right now.”

“And the cat comes first.”

“Glad you understand.”

Laughing, Ryder strode along the back of the house and around the side, past the front veranda to where his heavy motorbike, Esmeralda, parked in the driveway.

Standing beside it, he pulled his helmet on, fastening the strap as he looked at his pride and joy.  Man, he loved his bike, loved the colour, the power, the freedom.  Nothing beat riding a motorbike on an open highway.

Of course, having a cute babe on the back, her thighs nestling behind his, arms around his waist and firm breasts pressed against his back was pretty good, too, but getting on the open road with good mates and just riding, enjoying the freedom and mateship, man, nothing beat that.

Men were uncomplicated.  Women were bloody complicated.  Didn’t mean he didn’t like cuddling up to a sweet woman, though.

Swinging his leg over the seat, he settled, kicking up the stand and starting the engine.  It throbbed powerfully, and he opened the throttle when he was out on the open road, still mindful of the speed limit.

The road flashed past beneath him as he eased into the ride, enjoying it.  Maybe he’d keep going, go out to the creek for a ride.  It was a beautiful afternoon and he only had a floor to sweep and mop and a load of laundry to do, all of which could be done later.

A car shot past him and he recognised the rear of it.  The fact that it was cherry red, small and sporty, and had a private number plate with ‘SEXY Y’ stamped on it made it easy to recognise.  Yvonne, and she was mad by the look of it.  Normally she’d hoot her horn at him, follow behind for awhile in hopes he’d pull over and talk to her, invite her out on a date and then a night of lusty lovemaking.

However, he’d already dated her for awhile and spent quite a few lusty hours exploring in her panties, but it was over awhile ago and he never came back for round two with ex-girlfriends.  Sure fire way to get into trouble and raise false hopes for her.  For him?  No way.  No woman had ever made him want anything more than a few dates and some hot lovemaking.  He doubted any woman would ever make him want anything more permanent, and he wasn’t sorry about it, either.  Unlike Scott and Kirk, he wasn’t looking for happily-ever-afters.

Rounding the bend, he spotted something on the side of the road.  Drawing closer, he saw someone sit up and realised that a pushbike rider had taken a spill on the side of the road.  Gravel was a bitch when you hit it fast and hard, and the rider had obviously lost control.

Unless they’d been startled by Yvonne and her mad driving.

The person stood up gingerly, and at the sight of that voluptuous figure dressed in the same clothes he’d seen just that morning, Ryder knew who it was instantly.  He didn’t know any other woman with such an hour-glass figure, the top half a whole lot bigger than the already generous bottom half.

The only woman he knew with that figure was Dee.

Concern bit at him immediately. How bad was she hurt?  Shit, she was limping, not to mention there was definite red starting to pool through her blouse.

Goddamn, she was hurt.

Slowing down, he indicated, pulling onto the gravel carefully, controlling the big bike easily.

Dee watched as he pulled up beside her, relief washing through him when he saw that her face was undamaged.  She hadn’t been hit by Yvonne, so that was something, the bike and she would both be a whole lot worse off.

Flipping up his visor, he studied her.  “You all right, babe?”

“'Course.”  Dee smiled.  “Just took a spinner.”

Yeah, he could see that.  His gaze dropped to her arm, seeing the blood trickling down the smooth skin.  Leaning out, he grabbed her blouse and hitched it up.

Rather than slap his hand away, she just looked calmly down to where the gravel had abraded and lacerated her side.  “Nice look, huh?”

“Shit.”  Turning off the bike, Ryder kicked on the stand and swung off, yanking his helmet off as he did so to place it on the seat.

“I’m fine.”  She wiped her arm on the blouse, the blood smearing across the flower-patterned material.

“You’re hurt.”  His gaze dropped to her ankle.  “Babe, you’re a bit of a mess.”

“You’re such a charmer.”

“Anywhere else?”

“Nope.”

“Right.”  Catching her hands, he turned them palm up, frowning at the abrasions.  “We need to clean this up.”

“I’ll do it as soon as I get home.”

“We’re closer to my place.”  He took his mobile from his pocket.

“I’m not walking to your place.”

“You’re right, you’re not.”  He scrolled through the names on his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling Kirk to see if he’ll drop you and the bike at my place.”

“I just told you I’m not going to your place.”

“And I just told you that you are.”  He glanced up at her.  “What have you got at home?”

“A sink, chairs, table, bed-”

“Oh, very cute, Dee.  I mean in the way of First Aid supplies.”

“Bandaids.”  Her gaze slid away, slid back.  “Stuff.”

“Uh-huh.  We’re going to my place.”

“I don’t want to disturb anyone.”

“Babe, I can’t take you on my bike with no helmet and you’re
not
walking home.”

“Shit.”  Folding her arms, she scowled.

Man, she always looked cute when she did that, those lush lips pursing in irritation that she couldn’t get her way, those thick, dark eyelashes sweeping down to cover those pale blue eyes as she toed the dirt with one shoe.  “I hate being a bother.”

“Kirk won’t mind.”  He continued scrolling through the names.  “Okay, here he-”

“Wait!”

“Jesus, Dee, some days you try a man’s patience.  You’re coming to my place, end of story.”

“No, you nong.  Look.”

Following the direction of her finger, he turned to see a blue battered work ute pulling in behind his motorbike.  ‘Ben’s Auto Repairs’ was painted on both sides.  The driver’s door opened, an older man getting out, his wrinkled, leathered face not cracking even a smile as he strode around to come to a stop next to them.

“Problem?” Ben asked.

“Had a bit of a spill,” Dee replied before Ryder could say anything.  “Can I catch a lift home?”

Ryder cut his gaze to her.  That’s what she thought.

“Sure.”  Ben looked at him.  “All right?”

“What are you asking him for?” She started pushing the bike towards the back of the ute.  “He’s got no say in it.”

Ben arched one eyebrow at Ryder.

Striding forward, Ryder gently but firmly elbowed Dee aside, taking the bike from her and lifting it with ease to lower into the tray.  “If you could drop her off at my place I’d be grateful, Ben.”

“Don’t listen to him,” she said immediately.  “My place, Ben.”

He looked from one to another of them.  “Uh-huh.”

Placing his hand at her back, Ryder steered her over to the passenger door.  “My place, Ben.”

“My body, my place,” she shot back immediately.

“Your arse, my hand.  My place.”

“As if.”

“Don’t try me too hard.”  Opening the door, he pushed her firmly down into the seat.  “Buckle up.”

She glared up at him, half amused, half annoyed.  “You’re such an arse.”

“Yep.”  He shut the door, straightening to look at Ben.  “My place.  Don’t care what she says,
my
place.  Got it?”

“Isn’t that kind of like kidnapping?”

“No, it’s making Dee do what’s sensible.”

“She doesn’t seem to agree.”

Ryder grinned.  “Have you ever known her to agree with me?”

Amused, Ben squinted at Dee in the front seat.  “She’s mouthing something.”

“She’s always mouthing off.  Don’t listen to her.”  Crossing to the bike, Ryder donned the helmet, fastening the strap securely beneath his chin.  “Whatever happens, whatever she says, ignore it.  My place.”

“Do I get danger money?”

“Don’t worry, she’ll take it out on me, not you.”

“Can I watch?”

Swinging his leg over the seat, Ryder started the bike, the roar of the engine filling the air.  “Trust me, I’ll win.  I always do.”

Ben gave him a funny look.  “You think?”

“Sure.”  With a nod at him, Ryder added, “Thanks, Ben.”

“No worries.”

Flipping down the visor, Ryder steered the motorbike onto the road before opening the throttle and heading for home, fully confident that Ben would bring Dee to his house.  And Dee, no matter how much she might protest, would buckle to commonsense.  He had medical supplies, she had shit-all in her First Aid kit.  He knew, he’d seen it, which reminded him that he had to stock it up for her.  The woman couldn’t make a decent First Aid kit to save her life.  One day it might.

Pulling up in front of the garage, Ryder turned off the bike and got off, opening the garage door and wheeling the bike in beside his Toyota Corolla before backing the car out so he could take Dee home later.