Quinn 10.
I have a date. A date during the daylight. With Polk. I’ve wandered through my house on autopilot for the last couple of hours, still unable to believe the events of last night, let alone what’s in store for today. I spoke to the boys on the phone, listened to them complain about Joe’s “cooking”, and explained that I would not be approving a game download on their phones because none of them are 16 years old.
When Enzo asked how my date went last night, my immediate reaction was to be vague as hell, but I couldn’t do it. I was not expecting their excited screams when I told them Polk ended up being my date, so I might be slightly deaf now. It’s a small price to pay to hear all three of them go on and on about how awesome Polk is and how cool it would be for him to be their stepdad. My heart nearly exploded in my chest at that thought, but it was quickly replaced with exasperation when I realized they think my marriage to Polk will mean an endless supply of puppies and kittens to love and the occasional goat. I didn’t know he treated goats, but it doesn’t change the fact that I am not mentally prepared to handle conversations about marriage. We’ve had one date, I only learned last night that he has feelings for me and I’m still trying to process my own feelings about Polk.
I’m not ready to do a deep dive. After our date today, I’ll dissect every single second of our time together and figure out how I feel. I just know right now, I feel hopeful. Excited. Anxious. And a little turned on. He was unbelievably sexy last night. And that kiss. Up until Polk’s lips touched mine, Lenny the lothario was the best kiss of my life. But Polk…
Soft. Plump. Warm. All rational thought fled my mind and most of my blood flooded my nipples and clit, a desperation for more of his touch threatening to suffocate me.
Dammit! I like him. A lot. And it’s those feelings buried in my subconscious that elevated the kiss from good to extraordinary. The banter, the back and forth, a promise of passion and maddening foreplay.
I don’t want to rush anything. I think part of me knew that I wouldn’t find anyone on those apps. I didn’t need to worry about feelings or the future or navigating a new relationship with kids…because there was no real threat of those dates amounting to anything more than a funny story to entertain the masses at the clubhouse.
Bently Walker is real. Honest. Fucking gorgeous inside and out. Hilarious. And damn sure about me. How can he be so confident about me? Us? What does he see when he looks at me that everyone else has overlooked? And whatever it is that he sees, is it enough to keep him? I thought I had my happily ever after with Joe. But I wasn’t enough for him. I wasn’t enough to keep his demons at bay. And I know anyone else would tell me that I can’t take that on my shoulders. But it’s hard not to.
“Ugh!” I groan, flopping backward onto my bed, grabbing the nearest pillow and screaming into it. I just fucking said I wasn’t examining any feelings. I’m going to enjoy today, just like I enjoyed last night, and I’m gonna go with the flow.
I have NEVER gone with the flow. I’m a mom. Three fearless, wild, too smart for their own good boys. Though, I can adapt quickly, temper my expectations, accept and move on.
So, for now, I can accept that Polk is unbelievably attractive, and he enjoys my company. And he kisses like a sex-god.
The alarm on my phone beeps, letting me know I have about 15 minutes before he arrives. I force myself off the bed and into the bathroom. I pee, wash my hands, brush my teeth again, fluff my hair, and make sure my tits look good in the V-neck tee I’m wearing.
What? Don’t judge. They are my most appreciated assets.
My doorbell rings at 10:55 and I smile at his punctuality. Perhaps he’s as excited as I am. Opening the door, I swallow hard, my eyes greedily taking in the sight of him in a tight tee, his leather cut, form fitting jeans that hug muscular thighs and a promising bulge, boots, and sunglasses.
“Fuckin’ hell, darlin’. You look good enough to eat.” My body flushes from head to toes, the rough texture of his voice skating across my skin.
“Thank you,” I whisper, forcing my tongue to unstick from the roof of my mouth. “You look…well, lickable.”
“Lickable?” he teases, closing the scant distance between us and brushing his lips across my own. He smells good. Really, really good. “You can lick me anytime, Quinn. Consider me your own personal Tootsie Pop.” The sexual tension between us slightly dissipates as I laugh.
“Let me grab my bag.” I lean back into the house, grab my mini-backpack and close the door behind me. “Alright, mister, where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise. Love the bag. Did you have pound puppies as a kid?”
I nod, a small grin stretching my lips. “I had two of them. Feel how soft he is.” I hold out the bag for him. He runs the back of his hand down the soft pound puppy that makes up the front of my bag.
“Very soft.” With his hand on the small of my back, he guides me down the steps and sidewalk to his bike parked at the curb. Leaning down to whisper in my ear, my steps stutter when he says, “When I pet you, I bet you’ll be even softer.”
“Just as hairy, though.” I bite my lip, unable to believe I just said that out loud. That’s not sexy. Apparently, it is amusing, since he tosses his head back and laughs.
“I’ve always wanted to visit the jungle.” I smack his shoulder, turning to face him when we get to his bike. It’s a beautiful piece of machinery. I run my hand over the glossy tank. “Hmm, like you touching my bike. Think I’d like fucking you on it more.” I glance up at him sharply. I’ve never had anyone talk so dirty to me, let alone in casual conversation. I like it.
“Do you have a helmet for me? I don’t own one.”
“Yet.” He murmurs, opening one of his saddlebags and pulling the helmet out. He helps me put it on, securing the strap, then holds my hand and helps me on his bike. I’ve ridden with Adams, and it is a hell of a lot of fun. I imagine riding behind Polk will be an exercise in self-control.
I hum appreciatively when he straddles the bike in front of me, his ass spectacular with his jeans stretched over it. My hands itch with the need to touch him, but I refrain. Barely.
He starts the bike, and I grin giddily as the engine rumbles beneath me. I wrap my arms around him automatically, sucking in a harsh breath when my fingers dance across his abs. His back is firm, shoulders broad, leather warm against my cheek. Zero hesitation. Complete and utter comfort. I mold my body to his, scooting forward until there isn’t enough space for a piece of paper, let alone the Holy Spirit. He rests his hands over mine and squeezes. Then he’s shifting the bike and pulling away from my curb. The wind whips past me, the sights and sounds a blur as he weaves expertly through traffic.
I’m not sure how long we’re on the road, but when he turns into a nice development, I know the ride wasn’t nearly long enough. He dismounts first, then helps me off the bike. Polk removes my helmet, stowing it in his saddlebags along with his own, then pulls me into his arms, his heart beating steadily. “Exactly how many times you been on the back of someone’s bike?”
Resting my chin on his sternum, I glance up at him curiously, “Why? Did I do something wrong?”
“No. You’re a natural.”
I warm at his praise. “Oh. Thank you.” He leans back to cup my cheeks. I meet him halfway for a sweet, tender kiss that turns possessive rather quickly.
“I am the only person you ride with from now on.”
“Uh…”
“My woman. My bike.”
“Mylanta. My ass.” He scowls at my response which makes me chuckle. “Second date, mister. Slow your roll.”
“I will not.” I open my mouth to argue, but he grabs my hand and leads me up the sidewalk to a white two-story colonial with a wrap-around porch. A summer wreath on the front door, wooden rocking chairs with cushions on the front porch. I want to live here.
“Whose house is this?” I don’t think it’s his, he lives at the clubhouse. Although, he could own property somewhere and just spend most of his time with his brothers. I know so much about him and so little at the same time.
“My parents.” I immediately plant my feet, nearly toppling over when he continues walking. My heart is racing unpleasantly.
“Your—Why would you bring me to your parent’s house? Second fucking date, dude. What the hell?”
He smirks slowly, his damn eyebrow arching, “Dude?”
“Dude,” I respond as if that should explain it all.
“Quinn, darlin’, doesn’t matter how old you are, you always need a mom. I’m sharing mine with you.”
“Dammit, dude! You’re gonna make my eyes piss! I can’t believe you would spring this on me and be all cute and sweet. Argh!”
He winks at me, then knocks on the front door before opening it. “You can punish me later.”
“Mom! Dad! We’re here.” I swallow nervously, my salivary glands on overdrive as my heart threatens to punch right out of my chest. I know I have a death grip on his hand but he’s gentlemanly enough not to mention it.
“Bent!” A beautiful older woman comes around the corner, a dish towel over her shoulder, a welcoming smile aimed my way. “Ooh, is this Quinn?” He nods with a chuckle, releases my hand and practically shoves me toward his mother. She grips me on my upper arm, her blue eyes just like her son’s, not missing a thing as she looks me over. Her smile grows, and I’m suddenly against her chest, her arms wrapping tight around me. “I’m so happy to finally meet you!”
“Finally?”
An exact replica of Bently appears behind her. He’s a little more weathered by experience, but handsome, nonetheless. “Boy has talked about you non-stop for a year!”
“It wasn’t non-stop, jackass.” My eyes widen as his mom releases me. Never, ever, ever would I speak to my father or mother like that, no matter how much I might want to. Polk’s dad chuckles, then pulls me in for a hug as well.
I refuse to think about how good it feels to be hugged. I can’t remember the last time my parents embraced me, let alone welcomed me warmly into their home. Fuckin’ Polk…how sad is it that I’m more uncomfortable by his thoughtfulness and generosity than the vile things Ford has said to me? What does it say about me?
“Quinn. My mom and dad, PJ and Kylie Walker. Parents, this is Quinn Palomeni…my woman.” My eyes snap to his, pure joy gleaming in their depths. He’s truly happy to claim me. Oh, I’m in deep, deep trouble.
“It’s wonderful to meet you both. If I had known we were coming here, I would have brought something. I apologize for showing up empty-handed.” I direct my last statement to Polk with a frown. He is immune to my ire, smiling with a shrug like he has no care in the world.
“Thank you for the thought, honey, but it’s nothing to apologize for. Come in, let’s sit down. Brunch is ready.” His mom leads me by the hand into the dining room, a large spread covering the table. There are sweet and savory options and a multitude of beverages. Polk pulls out my chair for me and pushes it in as I sit down. He sits next to me, his mom and dad across from us.
My plate fills up without my help, Kylie and Polk taking turns piling more and more food. I’m not sure who they think I am, but there is no way I’m gonna eat all this. It’s nice to be served, though.
His parents ask me questions about myself; however, I get the impression they know quite a bit about me already. A small smile tips my lips at the thought of Polk telling his parents the details of my life. They tell me stories of his youth and as a mother of three boys, I offer my condolences to Kylie.
“Kason wasn’t quite as…curious.” She says sometime later.
“That’s your brother?” They’ve mentioned his name a few times, but I’m not quite sure of the relation or order of birth.
Polk grins boyishly, “Yeah, he’s older.”
“Does he live around here?” I ask, wondering why he isn’t joining us for brunch.
PJ tells me proudly, “He’s a Marine.”
Kylie sighs, “We’re not sure exactly where he is right now. But his last email, a few days ago, assures us he’s still alive and kicking ass.”
“Two vets in the family.” I joke, and thankfully his parents laugh.
Polk grumpily waves off my comment, “Yes, yes, we’re super proud of Kason.” Tapping his fingers on the table, he shifts in his seat, “He doesn’t bring you goats to play with.” He sounds like a petulant child, and I hate how adorable it is.
“You say, ‘play with’, I say ‘ate my underwear’.” PJ pins Polk with a stern glare.
“It wasn’t that big of a deal, Dad.”
“I was still wearing them at the time!” Shit, I snort and the orange juice I am drinking tries to infiltrate my lungs. Polk glares at his dad, patting my back while I try not to choke.
“If anyone has a right to be traumatized by the underwear incident, it’s Willamena. You smacked her nose.”
“She tried to eat my appendage!” Oh, God! I use my napkin to cover my mouth as I lose my shit.
“She probably thought it was a mushroom or an egg in a bird’s nest!”
PJ splutters, his face growing red, “A mighty anaconda!”
Polk slaps his hands on the table and leans forward, “A Barbados Threadsnake!”
Kylie calmly stands, gathering some of the empty platters. At the entrance into the kitchen, she glances over her shoulder, “Son, I used to change your diapers and wipe your ass, you take after your father more than you know.”
Polk stands up dramatically, “A mighty anaconda! No wonder Willamena was so scared!”
I can’t. It’s too much. I grab my plate and Polk’s and follow Kylie into the kitchen. She smiles at me, and we work side by side for a few moments in comfortable silence.
“Bently is very fond of you,” she says, then chuckles, the lines around her eyes more pronounced. “That’s an understatement. If I’m not as blind as my eye doctor would have me believe, I can see you are fond of him as well.”
Nervously, I lick my lips and inhale slowly. “I am. But it’s new.”
“I can’t imagine being a mom of three young kids, attempting to navigate life after divorce, dating, careful of who you let into their lives and hearts. You already know, the men and women of the Congressionals MC are some of the best you’ll ever meet.” I nod, emitting a noise of agreement. “And I might be biased but I happen to think my Bently is cream of the crop.”
“He’s incredible.”
“That he is.” She leans her hip against the counter, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Don’t be afraid to fall…he’ll catch you.”
“This is only our second date,” I remind her. She chuckles drily.
“Just be open to the possibilities.”
“Ok.” I’m not sure what to say. We’ve known each other for over a year, and while I might have been stupidly focused on Ford for most of it, Polk is hard to ignore.
“Hit me up,” she raises her hand up for a high-five. “Good on you for punching Ford. Fucker deserved it!”
“Oh my God!” Embarrassment floods my face, my eyes closing. “I’m never gonna live that down!”
“Nope. I’ll tell ya, though, if he wasn’t already infatuated with you, that sealed it for Polk. Never apologize, never be embarrassed for standing up for yourself. I was proud of you, and I hadn’t even met you yet. Now, after spending time with you, I know my son is a smart man.”
I blink a few times, the threat of tears blurring my vision. “Thank you.” Kylie opens her arms in time to catch me when I hurl myself at her. She doesn’t hesitate to wrap me up, swaying us back and forth. “Thank you.” I repeat, overwhelmed in the best way.
We break apart a few moments later, both of us wiping under our eyes and giggling. Polk knocks on the doorjamb. He gives me a questioning look, but I smile happily at him.
“You ready to go, darlin’? I thought we could go for a ride.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.” I turn back to his mom. “Brunch was delicious and plentiful. Thank you for feeding me.”
She cups my cheek, then pats it softly, “Anytime. Would you want to meet for lunch this week?” I blink owlishly at her in shock. I wasn’t expecting the invitation.
“Y-yes. That would be great.”
“I’ll text you her number, Mom. Thanks. Love you.”
“Love you, Bent.” Polk hugs his mom and kisses the top of her head.
“Let me go say goodbye to your dad, then we can leave.” Polk nods, his eyes following me as I walk back into the dining room. PJ looks up at me, eyes wide, mouth stuffed with food. We hold eye contact for several awkward seconds, he swallows, then smiles.
“You two taking off?”
“Yes. Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”
“You’re welcome anytime.” I approach to shake his hand, but he stands and hugs me. The Walkers are huggers. And I’m here for it. “Treat him well.”
“I will.”
“Next time, I expect you to bring your boys with you. Kylie and I are anxious to spoil some grandchildren.”
I throw my hands out, exasperated and happy, “Geez! Second date, people! This is only our second date!”