14. Porter
14
porter
Porter: Chicken wings tonight?
I smile as I casually slip my phone into my back pocket as Harry flags me down to grab him another beer.
“What has you smiling like that?”
George smacks his best friend on the back of the head. “What do you think? Or has it been that long since you’ve been with a woman that you forget the dipshit smile you have the day after?”
“It’s not like that,” I say, doing my best to throw these two off the scent. I usually have a pretty good poker face, but then again, I’ve never had sex with Quinn Banks multiple nights in a row. I’d guess that I’m smiling like the damn Joker right now. “Just been a good few days. Can’t a guy smile?”
Both of them look at each other before giving me a once over before Harry speaks up. “Guys? Yes, guys can. You? Well, you’re not really the smilin’ type.”
“Unless you’re flirtin’, then you’re all smiles.”
Can’t argue with him there. At least with what these two have seen from me over the years. I’ve been known to turn it on to appease customers, or back in my manwhore days, to whatever lovely lady I wanted to take home that night. But that version of Porter has gone to the wayside over the past few years. “I promise you both, it’s nothing to get your boxers in a bunch over. So go back to watching whatever god forsaken show you made me turn on and drink your beer.”
I turn my back from them, wanting to make sure I don’t give anything away as I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I grab a bucket of beers for the construction crew that rolled in about an hour ago before reading Quinn’s response.
Quinn: Sounds good. I’m *very* hungry.
Porter: You are, are you? Even though you had them last night? From what I remember, you swallowed every last bit.
Quinn: I did. And I enjoyed every last drop. But I’m always ready for more.
Indeed she did. Quinn came in last night under the guise of a beer and wings for dinner.
I knew exactly what that meant. And because I’m the owner, and I can do whatever I want, I sent Jenny home early, telling her I could handle it, locked the door when the bar emptied out at midnight, then proceeded to fuck Quinn over a bar stool before she sucked me off in my office while I was trying to count money.
Trying being the operative word.
Porter: You’re bad.
Quinn: You love it.
Porter: Fuck yeah, I do.
Quinn: My place after close?
Porter: I’ll text you when I’m leaving.
Quinn: I’ll be the one naked and ready.
Before I can reply back, Quinn sends me a selfie that somehow I can tell she’s completely naked, yet only teases me with the parts of her that make me salivate at the thought of kissing and touching every piece of skin she’s showing me.
Hell, who am I kidding? I’d worship that woman’s body every day, twice on Sundays, and throw in an extra service on Wednesday nights just to make sure I’ve properly paid respects.
Porter: Fuck. You’re killing me woman.
Quinn: Good. See you tonight.
Now I really need to keep my face hidden from Harry and George, or any other customer for that matter. I don’t know what’s going to be more obvious, the red I can feel on my cheeks, the smile I can’t seem to put away, or the bulge growing in my pants. So to be safe, I shout for Jenny to watch the bar while I go grab something from the office.
I shut the door behind, me, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself from all thoughts of Quinn Banks. The only problem is that now this whole office has her scent on it. I can barely be in here anymore and not think about Quinn beautifully laid on my desk as I fucked her until we both screamed.
That night was…God…nearly two full days later and I still haven’t been able to make my brain come up with words to describe it. Yes it was hot. Probably the hottest time we’ve ever spent together. I don’t know if it was the emotions, or the place, or what, but I know that if there’s ever going to be a memory of Quinn burned into my brain, it’s her bent over this desk, her perfect ass bouncing on my cock as I left her ass red.
I had no intentions of doing anything with Quinn that night, I really didn’t. Hell, I didn’t think I’d come back to the bar after I slipped out the back door to get my head right after seeing Missy. I knew the rumors were going to go flying around the bar, and it was just a matter of time before Quinn or Jenny would come check on me under the ruse of needing to grab something from the office.
But at some point in the night, as I was sitting in the darkness of my living room, I felt like the walls were starting to close in on me. I don’t have many places I can go and just think. But one place that never ceases to come through is the bar’s office. I don’t know what I believe when it comes to life after death, but when I have a problem, or am in a funk, I sit in the office and I swear I can feel Pops’ presence. And if I ever needed to feel like he was here with me, it was that night. Unfortunately, the more I sat there, the more questions I conjured in my mind of why the hell Missy showed up out of the blue, and why she ran off like a bat out of hell.
I knew it was only a matter of time before Quinn would force herself in to check on me, but even then I figured I’d just vent to her. Had to be better than keeping everything inside, right? But what happened after…holy shit, I wasn’t ready for that.
Though I should’ve been. I’m really some sort of idiot if I thought I could be alone with Quinn Banks and keep my hands to myself. I don’t know what kind of spell that woman has cast over me, but it’s strong and potent. Part of me hopes it never fades away. The other part of me is scared shitless for thinking that.
A knock on the door thankfully breaks my thoughts from whatever road my Quinn-filled mind was about to take me. I also breathe a little because I know it’s not Quinn. It’s not her knock.
“Yeah?”
The door cracks open to show my favorite cousin standing on the other side.
“Can I come in?”
“Always,” I say, pointing to the seat on the other side of the desk from me. “What brings you by?”
Wes takes a seat, and by the concerned look in his eye, it’s not to talk about the upcoming Nashville Fury football season. “Thought I’d come and check on you.”
I sit back in my chair. “You heard?”
“Everyone in the city limits heard. Hell, my brother heard, and he’s on vacation in Aruba right now.”
Damn. News travels fast and far. The post office could use some pointers from this community. “Thanks, but I’m okay.”
Clearly my half-truth isn’t convincing. “I’m going to call bullshit. So when you’re ready to actually talk, I’ll be sitting right here. Though I could use a beer.”
I laugh and reach over to the mini fridge I keep for myself, and grab one for each of us. “Honestly, I could too. Nothing like unpacking family trauma without a cold one.”
We tip the beers to each other and each take a pull. “But in all seriousness, I’m fine. Well, now I am. Still a little shook, because seeing Missy wasn’t something I’d planned on. But I haven’t heard from her since she ran out of here.”
Wes leans forward, elbows on his knees. “She really didn’t say anything? Ask for anything?”
“Nope,” I say. “I could tell she was making some things up. Too jumpy, you know? But she wasn’t here long enough for me to get a real read on her.”
“Do you think maybe she just actually wanted to connect?”
“Maybe,” I say. “And I thought about that when she mentioned that her dad passed. But then why dart out of here when Harry and George walked in? What would she have done if there were people here when she arrived? Nothing makes sense.”
“So odd.” Wes pauses for a second before asking me the one he knows is going to hurt. “Did she bring up your mom?”
I nod, the pain of having to think about my mom after all these years being the worst part of all this. “Apparently Bonnie hasn’t changed her ways. I think Missy was lying about a lot of things, but the one thing she was truthful about was that Bonnie was still the same ol’ woman.”
Wes’s eyebrows shoot up. “Bonnie? I know you don’t talk about your mom a lot, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call her by her first name.”
“Guess I finally realized that to be called Mom, you have to act like one. She sure as shit hasn’t. “
“That’s the fucking truth,” Wes said. “Okay, so back to Missy. She hates Bonnie too. She randomly popped in here. Was jumpy. Made a lot of random small talk. Then left? Just like that.”
“Just like that,” I say with a nod.
“So weird. Something’s off.”
“Is this what family drama is like?” I ask.
Wes shakes his head. “Slightly. But then again, you never had to deal with a crazy ex-wife or a custody battle. So maybe I’m biased.”
I laugh, because he’s right. Then again, having a crazy ex would require me getting married. And that is one thing I’ve never wanted.
God love being a child of divorce with a mother who doesn’t give two shits about you.
“Well, if she comes back, keep me in the loop, won’t you?” Wes says as he stands up. “Oh, and the fact my mom had to hear the news from one of the Bingo ladies did not sit well with her.”
I laugh and stand up as well. “I’ll call Aunt Peggy and apologize.”
“You know an apology will require you to come over for dinner.”
I nod. “I think I can live with that.”
Wes and I exchange a slap-your-back hug before he exits my office, me following behind. When I go back into the bar, it’s the normal, slow, Monday crowd. Good. When it’s slow like this, I can leave Jenny to tend bar and handle the tables. More money for her and a break for me.
And after the weekend I’ve had, I could use a break. Plus, maybe now a certain guest can come over a little earlier.
Yes. I like this plan.
“You good if I take off?” I ask Jenny as I open the register to grab my keys.
“Yup. Get out of here,” she says. “I can handle these rowdies.”
“Hey!” Harry yells. “I take offense!”
“You should,” I joke, giving him a slap on the back. “Thanks, Jenny. I’ll come back to help you close.”
“No, you won’t,” she says. “Take the night off. Please.”
The look she gives me is one a mother would give to her child. And technically, Jenny is old enough to be my mom, though I’d never say that to her.
“Thanks,” I say, sending her a wink. “Call me if you need anything.”
I say goodbye to a few guys playing pool as I slip down the hallway and past my office. Except as soon as I take a step past it, I realize that it’s cracked open, which is not right. I distinctly remember closing it when Wes and I stepped out.
“Hello?” I ask, wondering if one of the cooks came in to grab something. But I don’t hear anything as I push the door open and flip the light on.
But as soon as I do, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I just left this room not even ten minutes ago.
And now, sitting on top of my desk, is an infant carrier.
And looking at me, with the brightest green eyes I’ve ever seen, is a baby.