CHAPTER 6 #2
I’d do anything to draw her back in to kiss the citrus taste from her lips and the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
And to my surprise Quinn doesn’t move over to her side of the seat.
Her leg stays pressed against mine, and when I lean back, resting my arm along the back of the bench, she shifts closer without hesitation.
I feel my heartbeat increase again, my mind racing as I try to think of a scenario where I get to kiss her properly. I resolve to praying she picks dare, knowing it’s my only choice from here on out.
Across the table, Chad interrupts, breaking the spell. “Truth or dare, babe,” he says to Sophie, ignoring the rotation again and everyone’s annoyed looks.
Sophie plays along, her smile tight. “Dare.”
“I dare you to slide down that banister over there or sit on my lap,” he says, smug.
I roll my eyes. He’s relentless. Sophie downs the rest of her drink and, surprisingly, perches herself on his lap. I thought she’d accept defeat and go for the shot.
She turns to Quinn, a sly smile spreading across her face. “Truth or dare?” she asks sweetly. “And I’m adding a new rule. If you choose truth again, you owe us shot.”
Quinn sighs, biting the inside of her cheek. “Fine. Dare.”
Sophie flips her hair over her shoulder. “I dare you to copy everything I do for the next five minutes.”
Quinn furrows her brow. “Okay…?”
“Well,” Sophie says, standing, shifting on Chad's lap, “first of all, I’m not sitting in a chair.”
My heart flips. So, this is the game—she’s sacrificing herself for her best friend.
“Cole, be a darling and help out?” Sophie grins.
“I told you she plays dirty,” Quinn mutters under her breath.
I smile, sliding my arm from behind her and resting a hand on her thigh. I squeeze gently, hoping she knows I’m in on the dare and that I want her closer. “Come here,” I whisper.
Quinn hesitates just a second, then stands as best she can in the tight booth. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her onto my lap.
“It’s about time,” I murmur, lips near her ear.
She leans back into me, and I rest my hand on her thigh again. Quinn doesn’t stop me as she places her hand over mine instead, holding it there. Her bare skin under my fingertips is enough to make my head spin.
I silently pray she doesn’t shift any closer. If she notices how hard I’m getting, I might actually die of embarrassment.
“Hurry up with the dare, babe,” Chad complains.
Sophie just smirks. “All right. Cole, I dare you to whisper something no one else knows about you into Quinn’s ear.”
Shit.
I have no idea what to say. I’m distracted by having Quinn so close, her faint jasmine scent curling around me, the pressure of her hand on mine.
I rack my brain for something light, not too revealing.
I go with a real truth, not something made up to impress her, just something I genuinely want her to know.
“I’ve always wanted to build a house,” I murmur into her ear. “Like the one Noah built for Allie in The Notebook. But I don’t really tell people that… because I kinda love sappy romance movies.”
Her body stills against me, then she lets out a quiet laugh and turns her head, her nose almost brushing mine. There’s a secret smile on her lips, the same ones I nearly kissed earlier.
“You’re just a big softie, aren’t you?” she whispers.
“You got me,” I whisper back.
“All right, lovebirds,” Sophie says, playfully rolling her eyes. “I said whisper, not tell her your life story.”
She’s still perched on Chad’s lap, leaning so far away from him I think she might fall off. But he doesn’t notice because he’s too busy checking his reflection on his phone.
Eventually, Quinn slides off my lap, but she doesn’t move far.
Fuck, I’d do anything to spend more time with her, but it’s already late. But now, here I am, tracing slow circles on Quinn’s thigh, higher and higher, trying not to cross a line, one I wish I could blur.
Sophie pulls me out of my trance. “You’re up, Cole.”
Oh right, we’re playing a game.
“Truth or dare?” I ask Quinn.
“Dare.” Her eyes drop to my mouth briefly. “Whatever you want,” she whispers, low enough that no one else can hear.
My chest tightens. That voice. That look. I’m about to say it, to ask her to kiss me when, of course, he interrupts.
“We need more drinks,” Chad demands.
I shoot him a glare. “I think it’s your turn to get them, man.”
“It’s okay, darling. Quinn and I will get this round,” Sophie says, standing to get out of the booth. He doesn’t bother getting up to make room for her; instead, he guides her out with a hand on her lower back
“Only if you’re sure. I can message Dan, and he’ll make your drinks at our other bar,” I offer.
Quinn smiles knowingly. “It’s okay, really. We need the bathroom anyway.”
I nod, stepping out of the booth to let her pass.
She grabs her small bag, and as she brushes past me, the scent of her perfume hits me again.
It does nothing to ease the pressure behind my fly, and I scramble to think about anything else, literally anything that’ll help me calm the fuck down to make it go down.
“We’ll have one more round, gorgeous, then come dance with me,” Chad calls, his gaze glued to Sophie’s ass, but she doesn’t even look back.
The second they’re out of earshot, Chad groans. “Why do you always cock block me, man?” Not even looking up at me, his eyes still on Sophie's ass.
“I’m not going into this again,” I mutter. “We’ve got shit to sort out.”
“You only ever talk business,” he says, finally turning his attention to me. “This is my bar. That’s my girl. I’ll do what I want.”
I bite back my first response, not wanting to start a petty argument. Sophie is not his girl. And if he could read body language for shit, he’d know she’s not even interested. But more than that, I won’t let him make anyone uncomfortable. Not here. Not in our bar and not anywhere I can stop it.
“Did you even bother reading the rest of the will?” I ask calmly. “Or did you stop after the part that said you get all of Daddy’s money?”
He scowls but stays quiet, reaching for his half-finished whiskey and taking a sip.
I hate talking about Markus like this, but Chad has always hated being reminded he didn’t earn a cent of what he has.
He waves a hand like I’m being dramatic. “Whatever. Chill out.”
My jaw tics.
I hate it when he says that. Chill out. Like I’m overreacting, like trying to make sure this venue actually succeeds somehow annoys him. But I need the money more than he does. He’s already got plenty of family money, and he won’t invest a cent more than what Markus allocated.
“I don’t need to chill,” I snap. “I need you to show up to one fucking meeting.
He leans back, sips his drink like this is all a big joke. “Relax. It’ll all work out.”
“You’d better hope so,” I say.
“I’ll sign whatever,” he mumbles. “Just get the paperwork.”
I don’t know what Chad got in his side of the will, he never even bothered to read the whole thing. And he probably wouldn’t have told me anyway. But I do know I need to get the bar Markus chose up and running to get my share.
That gets his attention. Barely. I slide a pitcher of water toward him. “You can’t sign shit while you’re intoxicated.”
“I’m not even drunk. I can handle my alcohol, unlike you.”
I ignore his petty comment. “Then be here at nine a.m. tomorrow,” I say, voice flat. “You owe me that much. I spent half the night sitting here drinking just to give you a chance with that girl’s friend.”
That shuts him up. And part of me regrets saying it, because if he knew how much I wanted Quinn, he’d probably go after her to spite me.
That’s how it’s always been.
Fourteen years of the same dynamic. Same tricks. Same power plays.
Markus was right to include the clause in his will.
All Chad has to do is the bare minimum, sign a few documents now and then, and show up to the board meetings, but even that seems like too much for him.
It was Markus’s final test, a chance for Chad to step up and earn something for real, finally.
But regardless of what Chad does, I’m going to see this through. I’m going to make Markus proud.
Even though he helped raise me, I never wanted to end up like Chad. Markus might’ve backed me, but that didn’t mean a damn thing was handed to me. I’ve worked for every cent, and I’m proud of that.
He finishes his drink and slouches back in his seat. “Nine a.m., your office or mine?”
He knows damn well he took the only office in the building. Not that it really bothers me—I work and sleep out of there anyway. There’s no point wasting money I don’t have on a rental when I practically live here already.
Luckily, my phone vibrates in my pocket, saving me from continuing this painful conversation. I pull it out to see it’s our bartender, Dan, likely needing backup at the bar. I’ll head over to help. “It’s Dan,” I mutter. “I’ve got to take this.”
“Who?” he says, not even looking up. He’s probably swiping through backup girls, messaging them “u up?”
I don’t even bother with a response as I turn my back and answer the call, walking downstairs where it’s quiet enough to hear him.