Chapter 7 #2
His eyebrows shot up. “I did?”
I nodded, hurt.
He seemed to think for a second, and then winced.
“Fuck.” He ran his hand down his face. Though we weren’t in public yet, he pushed me back against the wall and crowded me, putting his mouth right next to my ear.
“I didn’t lie,” he insisted. “Not intentionally, anyway. But there’s some stuff happening with the club that makes my statement not as truthful as it would have been last week.
But I can’t tell you what it is. At least, not until we decide to make it public. Do you understand?”
I didn’t like not knowing, but I also knew that the club took their privacy seriously. And I wasn’t one of them. Yet.
Scrunching my nose, I nodded.
He kissed my cheek and then lifted his head. He studied me for a moment. “Can you always tell when you’re being lied to or is that a just-me thing?”
“Always,” I informed him.
He nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Good to know. And I promise never to intentionally lie to you. Though I just realized how hard it’s going to be to surprise you with big, romantic gestures.”
I smiled widely at him. “Surprises and me don’t really get along.”
He chuckled. “Challenge accepted.” Then he indicated toward the front of the bar. “Come on. There are others who want to meet you.”
“Others? You told them about me.”
“I told you, I’m claiming you. That means something to me, Winnie.” I loved how he said my nickname, making it an endearment like one would say ‘baby’ or ‘sweetie’. Only this one was just for me. “Someday soon, you’ll wear my cut. This is happening, regardless of what the cosmos says.”
I had a sudden flash of him in black armor, prepared to fight Fate to be with me. Goddess, it was nearly as sexy as his videos on Shirtless Saturdays. I had to clench my legs together in an effort to quench the sudden throbbing at my core.
Quinten didn’t do anything half-measured, I was realizing. He put his all into everything he did, whether it was building shelves for charity or claiming me. I admired that tenacity, that assuredness.
“Who else is here besides Ranger and Ghost?”
He shrugged. “Not sure, but they said they’d be stopping by throughout the night to meet you.”
At least this wasn’t a big shindig where I was the center of attention and would be quizzed later on regarding everyone’s names.
“Is that why you brought me here? So I could meet the club?” I was still trying to piece together why he’d chosen the club’s bar for our first date. I didn’t mind, not really. It was just so different from where I’d pictured our first date being the past four years.
“Not entirely. I wanted some place local that wasn’t the diner.
We can play pool or darts here, and the music isn’t so loud that we can’t hear each other.
Plus, there’s a slight,” he held up his thumb and pointer finger with very little distance between them, “possibility that I wanted to show you off.”
“Good thing I wore my second favorite pair of jeans.” I turned to show him my ass.
He whistled low. “I approve. But what happened to your favorite pair of jeans?”
I wiggled my butt for him. “I wore them yesterday for our first meeting.”
Quinten’s eyes lit up. “Tease.”
“Moi?” I asked, aghast with a hand on my chest. “Never. I, good sir, put out.”
I made to move past him, but he snagged me around my waist and pulled me back to the wall, caging me in. A low rumble rose up from his chest as all levity left his face.
“Don’t ever,” he growled, “say that to me again. Lord knows, we both have pasts. And I’m the world’s biggest hypocrite by even saying this, but for the sake of my sanity, don’t ever bring up your history with past men. I don’t—”
I silenced his rant with a finger to his lips. “I put out for you,” I specified. “Only for you.” I waited a moment to see the understanding cross his features before I lowered my finger again.
He blinked. “Only for me?” I nodded evenly. “We only talked about this a little yesterday, but I assumed that even if you didn’t date anyone, you were still intimate with…” His voice trailed off, and he winced at his own words. “Are you saying you’re a virgin?”
I was not worthy of the awe in his voice, like I’d accomplished a great feat by not having sex. “I’ve known about you since I was sixteen,” I reminded him. “Why would I want to be with anyone else?”
Quinten stared down at me for a long moment. “You saved yourself for me?”
I shook my head. “I saved myself for me. I chose not to be with anyone else because I knew the only man I wanted to be with was you. That was my decision, my choice. And yes, while I do plan on having sex with you, and only you, I didn’t do it so you could go all caveman on my ass.
” I patted his cheek. He must have just shaved again because there was no stubble on his face.
“No need for you getting a big head—or dick,” I added offhandedly.
He groaned, dropping his head to my neck. “You can’t say things like that and expect me to behave. I’m trying to make this a memorable first date for you.”
I brought my hand up the back of his neck, petting the hair at the base of his skull. “It would always be memorable, Quinten, because it’s with you.”
“I’m trying to convince myself that taking you into the admin office and fucking you over the desk in there would be a really bad idea.”
For a moment I couldn’t come up with a plausible reason why that wasn’t a fantastic idea, but then I remembered it would be my first time and that wasn’t exactly the way I’d always imagined losing my virginity.
“Next time,” I promised.
He chuckled before standing up. I straightened his cut for him as he stared down at me. “Why do you call me ‘Quinten’?”
My hands stopped, my right pinkie finger just barely touching his road name patch on his leather cut. “Do you not like me calling you ‘Quinten’?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not that. ‘Quinten’ or ‘Starbucks’ makes no difference to me. I was just curious as to why you would know that name over ‘Starbucks’.”
“It was the name I read on your coffee cup the first time I saw you.”
“Saw or—” he paused. Making his eyes go wide on the last word, he added in a spooky voice, “Saw?”
“Saw,” I answered. “One of your first days in Mount Grove we actually bumped into each other at the bakery. I couldn’t believe it was you, and that I was finally seeing you in person. It was actually that coffee cup that gave me your name. I didn’t know it before then.”
His face was scrunched slightly, like he was trying to remember. “I bumped into you and I didn’t fall head over heels for you then? Christ, I’m a dumbass.”
I laughed. “If you recall, at least on your end, this wasn’t love at first sight.”
“Like I said, dumbass.” He stepped away and took my hand. “Come on, I need to get some food into you. And I want to hear more about your beekeeping.”
“That’s so interesting.” Normally, I’d expect those words to sound bland or even derisive in regard to my beekeeping, but Starbucks actually sounded fascinated.
Like really fascinated and he wasn’t just placating me.
“I honestly thought that the flavors of honey were added after the fact. Like they were chemicals or something.”
We were sitting in a booth in the back corner of the bar.
After hearing everyone refer to him as ‘Starbucks’ or ‘Star’, I decided that I should too.
At least, when we were out in public. Despite him saying he didn’t care, it seemed important to him.
Like not acknowledging a promotion or a station he’d earned.
So I was doing my damndest to also call him ‘Starbucks’.
I’d only slipped up one time since we’d sat down.
I liked that he was sitting on the same side of the booth as me. I was against the wall, and though the booth could have fit three small people, we were squeezed in so tightly that our thighs were practically welded together. I didn’t mind in the slightest.
We were sharing an appetizer sampler, filled with stuffed mushrooms, mac ’n cheese bites, jalapeno poppers, mozzarella sticks, and hush puppies.
He’d also ordered a steak and fries while I got a black and bleu salad, but those hadn’t arrived yet.
His one-and-done beer was already finished and he now had a Coke.
I’d been encouraged to try a Purple Rain with a sugared violet garnish.
It was sweet enough to cover up the alcohol but I was still sipping it slowly and alternating between it and my water.
I was also saving my garnish for last because I loved violets.
“A lot are,” I answered, picking up a mozzarella stick. “But if you get true pure honey, it wouldn’t be. For example, my buckwheat honey is from when my bees pollinated those plants. Clover honey is popular in this area too. I collect the raw honey, along with extra comb, from my apiary.”
“What’s the difference between raw and pure honey?
” he asked. While Starbucks was shifted towards me on the seat, I could tell he was not oblivious to the things going on in the bar behind him.
Anytime someone approached our table or even just walked by, he reacted.
It made me wonder if he was sitting this way to protect me or to be close to me.
So far, I had met Ranger, Ghost, Grumpy, and a prospect named Viktor. Dosia had texted that neither she nor Pumpkin were going to be coming by but she was excited to hear about my date. She also wanted all the details.
I dipped my mozzarella stick in the marinara. “Pure honey means it’s a hundred percent honey, no additives. It’s also different from organic honey, which means the plants the bees pollinated were also organic. Raw honey is what’s in the hives. Basically, it’s the honey before I clean it.”
“You ‘clean’ honey?”