Chapter Five
Diesel
Wind in my hair, engine between my legs, and an open road ahead. Life was real sweet. Especially since meeting Ollie. I grinned every time I thought of the male, which was most of the time.
Back at the clubhouse, the flyer Ollie had tucked into my pocket was already in a frame on my wall. The bingo card next to it. I wanted to cover every square inch in memories of the time we spent together.
Tonight was the paint and sip. I wasn’t sure what kind of drinks they would serve, which was why I’d tucked a flask of whiskey inside my cut.
Ollie’s house loomed up ahead. I throttled down, grinning when I spotted the sprite waiting for me on the porch. He had on a soft blue shirt and skinny jeans, looking good enough to lick.
“Ready?” I asked when I pulled into his driveway.
“I can’t believe I’m going to paint and drink…whatever. How cool is that? I feel so fancy now.” He stood expectantly, his hands clasped in front of him.
“Someone’s getting a little spoiled.” I unlatched the helmet strapped to the seat behind me. “You should be able to secure your helmet in your sleep by now.”
He beamed up at me, and I hated covering that playful smile.
“Maybe I like beefy hands doing it for me instead.” Ollie wiggled his brows.
“Like I said, spoiled.”
I held the bike steady as he climbed onto the back, kneeing my side.
“Shoot. Sorry. These jeans don’t leave much room for mobility. I forgot to do laundry.” His legs bracketed my hips, and then his arms slid in where they belonged.
“Never do laundry again.”
We took off down the street, Ollie’s arms tightening around my waist. Ten minutes later we pulled into a cracked parking lot.
Patty’s Paint and Sip occupied a storefront that looked like it had been decorated by someone who’d raided a thrift store in 1972 and never looked back.
Tie-dye tapestries hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly from the air conditioning.
Beaded curtains separated what I assumed was a back room from the main space.
The walls were covered in peace signs, mandala posters, and paintings that ranged from decent to “my five-year-old could do better.”
Incense burned somewhere, the smell thick and sweet enough to make my nose itch. Probably patchouli. Everything in here screamed patchouli.
Five people were already inside, milling around the easels that had been set up in rows.
A couple in matching sweaters stood near the back, whispering to each other.
Two middle-aged women claimed spots on the left side, laughing about something.
A guy who looked like he’d walked straight out of a tech startup—button-down shirt, glasses, perfectly styled hair—had positioned himself front and center.
A few of them looked up when we walked in. Their gazes landed on me, lingering on the leather, the tattoos, the general vibe that said I didn’t belong in a place that smelled like incense and good vibes.
Staring was nothing new. I’d been drawing eyes since I was a teenager, when I’d cleared six-three before the muscle had caught up. My mom’s recurring nightmare was that I’d keep going forever. I’d topped out at six-four.
Ollie’s hand found mine, squeezing once before he led me toward two empty easels near the front. Near the beaded curtain, a table held a bottle and several empty wine glasses—though I couldn’t confirm it was wine, since whoever had set it up had turned the label to the wall.
The tech startup guy had the easel right beside ours. He glanced over and smiled in a way that wasn’t particularly friendly.
“First time?” he asked, directing the question at both of us but looking mostly at Ollie.
“Yeah,” Ollie said, settling onto his stool. “You?”
“Oh no, I’ve been coming here for months. Patty’s an excellent instructor.” He adjusted his glasses with one finger. “I’m Gerald.”
“Ollie. This is Diesel.”
Gerald’s gaze slid to me, taking in my appearance, eyes flickering with surprise that someone like me would show up to a paint and sip.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, his expression radiating the opposite.
I grunted in response and lowered onto the stool next to Ollie. The goddamn thing was built for a toddler. Only one ass cheek fit. The other hung off the edge, and I had to brace my boots against the floor to keep from toppling sideways.
“You okay?” Ollie asked, fighting a smile.
“Just great. Love feeling like I’m sitting on a toothpick.”
“We can switch.”
“Yours is the same size.” I shifted my weight, and the stool creaked in protest. You better not fucking break.
Ollie’s laugh was quiet but sincere, and the sound made the hobbit stool worth it.
Behind us, the beaded curtain parted. A woman glided in like she was riding tiny drifting clouds under her hemp sandals. Shit you not. Lady looked like a bona fide summer child, only with a ton of wrinkles.
With every cloud-riding step, her green and purple tie-dyed skirt swirled around her ankles. I had nothing personal against lotus-eaters, but this one gave off a weird vibe. My wolf cocked its head, trying to figure out if the incense had drugged us.
Same, buddy. If that flower halo sittin’ on a bush of frizzy hair don’t start pulsing, we’re good.
If it did, it was already too late.
But it was that fake-as-fuck smile on her face that made me keep one eye on her at all times.
“Welcome, beautiful souls!” Her voice had a singsong quality that immediately set my teeth on edge. “I’m Miss Patty Willow Hummingbird, and I’ll be your guide on this creative journey tonight.”
Were we gonna paint or drop acid?
She drifted lazily to the front of the room and clasped her hands together at her chest. A green crystal rock swung forward from around her neck. I stiffened, telling myself we were not about to be put into a trance.
What the fuck had Ollie gotten us into? I cut my eyes toward him. The male appeared totally enraptured. If this became too weird, I was grabbing his skinny ass and getting us out of here.
My wolf was ready to lead the way.
“Before we begin, let’s go around and introduce ourselves. First names only. We’re all friends here in the sacred space of creation.” Her gaze swept across the room, landing on each of us in turn. “Let’s start with you, dear.”
She pointed at one of the middle-aged women, who introduced herself as Karen. Her friend was Susan. The couple in matching sweaters were Tom and Linda. Gerald practically vibrated with eagerness when his turn came, announcing his name like he expected applause.
Then it was Ollie’s turn.
“Ollie,” he said, giving a small wave and a wide grin.
He looked so kidnappable.
“Beautiful name for a beautiful soul,” Miss Patty said, her smile somehow widening further.
I glanced at the halo. It sat quiet on the bird’s nest.
“And you?”
I met her gaze dead-on. “Diesel.”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and she tilted her head like a bird examining something shiny. “How... unique. Welcome, Diesel. I sense a lot of untapped creative energy in you.”
Maybe I’d let my wolf out to paint.
Miss Patty floated back to the front and clapped her hands twice. “Tonight, we’re painting a sunset over the ocean. I’ll guide you step by step, and remember, there are no mistakes in art, only happy accidents!”
Someone had been watching too much Bob Ross.
She gestured to a canvas already set up on her own easel, showing a completed version of what we were supposed to create.
Oranges and pinks bled into purples, the colors reflected in water below.
I didn’t have an artistic bone in my body, but I was willing to try for the blond who looked like he’d chugged a case of Red Bull.
Ollie was bouncing on the balls of his feet, grin so wide a set of dimples were squeezed out.
“Let’s begin!” Miss Patty announced. “First, we’ll paint the sky. Take your largest brush and dip it into the orange paint. Don’t be shy. Really load it up.”
Around me, people reached for their brushes. Ollie grabbed his with shaky fingers, dipping it into the paint and spreading it across the top of his canvas in smooth strokes. The color went on evenly, covering the white surface without streaks or gaps.
I looked down at my own setup. Brushes of various sizes sat in a cup next to the easel. Paint tubes were arranged in a neat line. The blank canvas stared at me like it was daring me to screw this up.
Grabbing the largest brush, I dunked it into the orange paint. Too much came up on the bristles, dripping back into the container. When I tried to apply it to the canvas, the paint went on thick and uneven, leaving globs in some places and bare spots in others.
“Wonderful start, everyone!” Miss Patty moved between the rows, her skirt swishing against the easels. “I can already see such beautiful energy flowing through your work.”
She stopped next to Ollie, leaning in to examine his canvas. Her hand went to the crystal around her neck, her fingers curling around it.
If she tried to hypnotize him, she was eating this paint.
“Oh my,” she said, her voice taking on that singsong quality again. “This is lovely. You have such a natural feel for color blending.”
“Thanks,” Ollie said.
I was the one hypnotized. With the way I felt about him, my wolf should’ve chosen him already. What was it waiting on?
“Truly gifted.” She squeezed the crystal once then made her way over to Gerald.
His canvas looked even better than Ollie’s, the orange fading seamlessly into pink at the edges. Smug satisfaction radiated from every line of his posture.
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“Gerald, as always, your technique is flawless.” Miss Patty’s fingers tightened around the crystal again. “Such dedication to the craft.”
“Thank you, Miss Patty.” Gerald’s smile could’ve powered a small city with its smugness.
She moved on to Karen and Susan, offering the same singsong compliments, but this time, it hit my ear wrong. Then Tom and Linda, more praise, more crystal-squeezing. More fakeness.
Stop. You’re here to have fun with Ollie, not scrutinize.
Finally, she reached my easel.