Chapter 29
“Bingo?”
I ease off the brake when the light turns green. Traffic is a nightmare after a game, especially in the afternoon. I keep the tinted windows rolled up when we pass a group of fans huddled together at a crosswalk and lean my elbow against the door, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel.
“I know you’re probably tired. It was Ruthie’s idea, and this is the first time she’s ever really wanted us to go do anything together with her that an actual couple would.
Not that bingo is something I’d typically suggest,” Quinn rambles, gripping her knee.
“You don’t have to say yes. I tried to tell her that it wouldn’t work, but she’s not the easiest person to turn down. ”
I was already going to say yes.
If it helps her feel more comfortable, then she can continue to use Ruthie as a scapegoat for the feelings I know she’s growing for me.
What she’s asking me to do is go on a date with her, even if it’s not one-on-one.
I wouldn’t turn her down even if my arm were hanging out of its socket, which, luckily for me, it isn’t.
The game was easy. I only threw ten pitches to get my three outs, and the singular ball call was one Wes probably could have challenged and overturned.
It was a perfect game from our entire bullpen tonight, so yeah, why wouldn’t I want to celebrate with my girl?
Even if we’ll be surrounded by a bunch of older women who I have no doubt will have a million questions for the both of us.
“So, are there rules?” I ask, flashing her a teasing grin.
She chokes on her reply, bewildered blue eyes jumping to gawk at me. “What?”
“Are there rules? I don’t want to embarrass myself tonight. Ruthie’s approval means a lot to you.”
“It wouldn’t be real approval.”
“Semantics.”
“You really wouldn’t mind?”
“No, Quinny. I wouldn’t mind spending my night with you.”
She drops her gaze to her lap. I take a second to look at her, finally alone and without distractions.
Having her here beside me is ten times better than up in the stands with her attention spread between all the girls.
I spent most of my time in the bullpen watching her and wishing that she’d stop talking to everyone else so she could keep her attention on me.
It was selfish, but I’ve accepted that when it comes to Quinn, I’m a greedy bastard.
I want to be the one person she can’t look away from and the man she wants to spend every moment of every day with. In a crowded stadium or an empty room, I need her to search for me. I’ll be waiting with my arms open.
“Don’t get any funny ideas,” she warns, but there’s no real heat in it.
“Me? As if.”
“Right. Because you’re totally innocent, right?”
I wet my lips. “Yeah, I’m a goddamn saint, baby.”
Her hum is so sarcastic that I can’t help but laugh. She has her head leaning back against the seat and rolls it toward me, exposing her smile. It’s possibly the softest I’ve ever seen her look. The most at peace, like maybe she’s just as happy being here with me as I am with her.
“You hungry?” I ask, already turning toward my favourite burger place.
She notices where we’re going and makes the neediest noise in the back of her throat. My jeans tighten around my frantically swelling dick. I wring the steering wheel and force myself not to beast out and rip it out of the dash.
“I’m starving. Brielle was all about stadium dogs, and I thought I was going to hack chunks all over the people in front of us when I tasted the one she forced me to get. I never want to taste that mixture of toppings again.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah? What was on it?”
“What wasn’t on it?”
“Ah, shit. Yeah, next time, I’ll show you the good stuff. I’m surprised Aubrey didn’t get you something better. She’s pretty picky about her stadium food.”
“Fear not, she promised to show me the poutine place the next time we go.”
My heart lurches, snagging in my throat. “Did she?”
“Yes, thank God. I probably would have written off ever eating at another baseball game if the hot dog was the peak of the food experience.”
“Did you try a Kellan Crush?”
“A what now?” Sounding a bit disturbed, she gives me a weird side-eye.
“The drink. It’s the Havoc specialty drink this month. I think it’s blue raspberry lemonade. Comes in a limited-edition strawberry-shaped cup with ‘Because Every Fan Has One’ written on the front.”
There’s a pregnant pause before, “You’re actually kidding. That’s what Sara was drinking.”
Her laugh bursts free so loud it forces mine out alongside it.
My grip on the steering wheel wobbles a bit before I straighten out in the drive-thru.
Quinn’s cheeks are flushed by the time I’m forced to order and roll my window down.
I’m grinning the entire time I speak to the guy on the other side of the receiver.
“Well, don’t leave me hanging. Do you get a drink?” she asks as we pull up behind a black SUV.
“Obviously, Quinny. Should I pick you up some tickets for next month so you can try it for yourself?”
“You’re not just going to tell me what it is?”
“And ruin the surprise? Not a chance.”
“Fine. But only because I want to try it.”
My chest is probably puffing out like a total Neanderthal as I approach the window and pay for our food.
I don’t give a shit how prideful I look, though.
Not when I’ve just gotten Quinn to agree to come to a Havoc game next month.
If this isn’t the perfect time to be a smug motherfucker, then I don’t know when is.
A few minutes pass before I’m pulling into an empty spot at the back of an empty parking lot and handing Quinn her food. She takes her fries with an arched brow but doesn’t comment on the fact that I didn’t drive back to my place.
Maybe I’m being a bit cautious. If I take her home and she changes her mind about tonight, I already know I’ll spend hours kicking myself in the ass. This moment feels different, and I don’t want to lose it.
“When is bingo?” I ask around a bite of burger.
Chewing, I turn down the music and crank the AC.
“Six. Unless you wanted to go earlier.”
“Do you want to go earlier? We can head over now.”
She presses a fry to her bottom lip, hesitating before biting it in half. “No. It’s only four thirty.”
“Mm.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I drawl, taking a sip of my drink. “You’re just willingly spending time alone with me.”
“As if that’s something new.”
“It kind of is, gorgeous. The last time we were alone like this, you begged me to eat you out.”
She sucks in a breath. “What? I begged you?”
“So loud, too. ‘Please, Beck! Yes, just like that! Don’t ever stop!’” I mock dramatically, letting my voice droop until I’m all but whimpering.
Her hand flies at me, and I lean into the weak hit, absorbing it. When she goes for a second, I bundle her fingers up and press them to my sternum.
“You’re such an asshole,” she mutters, trying to tug free of my grip.
I link our fingers, squeezing. “You can’t deny you were avoiding me, though, can you?”
“What does it matter if I was?”
“I don’t like not having your attention.”
She blinks. “You can’t always have what you want.”
“Are you upset by what happened?” I try to keep my tone even, calm, despite my nerves.
When our eyes catch and hold, I stroke her knuckles, pushing them harder against my chest. If she’s bothered by that, she doesn’t show it. The soft breath that escapes the tiny gap in her lips is so similar to the one that I heard yesterday when I was on my knees before her.
Goosebumps crawl up my spine, then outward, covering me from head to toe. I keep her hand on my chest, hoping she can feel how wild my heart is beating as I cup her cheek, drawing her closer. She follows without hesitation, those soft lashes of hers fluttering when her eyes dip to my mouth.
“Answer me, Quinny,” I urge softly.
“We have cheeseburger breath.”
I shake my head, not giving a shit. Our mouths are so close now, I could eliminate that final inch of distance with a slight tip of my chin. She’s not pulling away from me, either. I’m not the only one who wants this. I’ve never been surer of anything.
“You need to tell me if you regret what happened. Because if you do, I’ll let you go, and we can finish our food without another word of it. But if you don’t, then I’m going to kiss you. And after that, I want to make good on my earlier promise.”
Her breath audibly skips, and I go tense, waiting for the rejection to come.
“I don’t regret it. We didn’t do anything wrong. I . . . had a good time.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, Beck. I—”
Her words die against my lips. There’s nothing else I need to hear from her right now.
Just like last time, she kisses deeply, as if she wants to drown in me.
Or maybe like she wants to be the one to drown me.
Either way, it’s fucking perfect. I’m fully tangled up in her.
The scent of her perfume, the feel of her skin beneath my fingers, and the way she tastes like my most perfect happily ever after.
I’ve always believed that fate was a hoax.
That it’s a belief used to excuse your lack of plans or follow-through with the ones you do manage to come up with.
You rely on some mystical force to forge your path for you, and then when things don’t turn out, you can put all the blame on it because, well, that’s just the way it was supposed to happen.
The very first time I felt that opinion shake was when I walked into Blank Page that first day and saw her standing behind the counter.
It was like going back to high school, a time where everything was simple and easy and lacked the weight of every decision I made having consequences that could ruin my life.
She was so familiar to me, even though we didn’t know each other well then, and she’d grown into a woman far, far beyond my wildest expectations.
But it was easy for me to write it off as two people living in the same city, going to the same coffee shop.
Then it became impossible to ignore the need to go back.
Over and over again, even when it was obvious she clearly didn’t care for me much, I was there just so I could hear her voice.
Her blunt rejection or brush-offs didn’t offend me, and they didn’t keep me from returning day after day or wishing that when I was on the road, I could take a red-eye back to Vancouver just to see her.
Kissing her was when I knew, though.
It wasn’t a random decision that led me to her coffee shop, and it wasn’t just intrigue that kept me coming back. That was all fate, and even just acknowledging that feels incredibly humbling.
There’s no other explanation for the way my heart is leaping in my chest as she runs her hand over my shoulder to the back of my neck or the bliss flowing through my veins when she tugs on my hair and hauls me closer.
I lean over the centre console and palm her waist, trying to haul her across it, into my lap. She shakes her head, our lips refusing to separate. The refusal bites at me, but I let it go, remembering where we are.
“You hardly fit in that seat as is, let alone with me in your lap,” she whispers, explaining shyly.
My teeth graze her bottom lip as I groan. “Do you want to be risky with me?”
“Risky is all I feel when I’m with you.”
My throat tightens. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“I want you to feel safe with me,” I admit, my entire body burning.
Her eyes open just enough that I can see the pale blue colour of her irises. Even that’s enough to rock me. She swallows, and I hold my breath.
“I do.” Her fingers curl in my hair, and the tip of her nose runs along the bridge of mine. “You’ve never made me feel unsafe.”
I release my breath. It’s more than enough for me. Way, way more.
“Then get in the back seat with me.”