Chapter 18
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
ASPEN
I’m wrapped around Asher as he weaves through traffic. At this time of day, I know I should be on the lookout for asshole drivers rushing to get home, but I’m too busy basking in being wrapped around him.
All too soon, he slows down and turns into a parking lot. Excitement fills me when I see where we are.
“Did you really bring me to an adult play area?” I squeal as I jump off the bike, ripping my helmet off at the same time.
Asher laughs. “I wanted to do something different. Yak caught me looking up ideas and told me to look at this place. When I saw they had axe throwing, mini golf, and shit, I knew this was it.”
“You chose well,” I tell him.
“I’m glad you think so. Now come on.”
Hand in hand, we head inside. He gives the person our name, and they confirm our reservation.
I know it’s stupid, but it pleases me that he called ahead.
I’ve never had a guy make plans in advance like this before.
On previous dates, the guys I was with would walk in and drop our name on a list, which often left us sitting awkwardly around a bunch of people while we waited our turn.
There was intention in the way Asher made a reservation, like he had no doubt we would make it here.
“Let’s go to the bar and order some food and drinks, then decide where we want to go. How does that sound?” he asks, his thumb caressing the back of my hand.
The butterflies are going wild in my stomach.
“Perfect. Lead the way.”
It’s still early enough that the place isn’t packed, but it’s definitely busy.
When we get to the bar, he grabs a menu and slides it my way. I can’t help but smile when he cages me between his body and the bar.
“Look at the menu, Songbird,” he murmurs as he scans it over my shoulder.
Before I can say something witty, a bartender comes up.
“Hey, what can I get you guys?” he asks.
“Can I get one of your local tap beers? Preferably an ale, you choose, please,” Asher tells the man.
You would think a biker wouldn’t say please, but the fact that Asher has manners is a turn-on for me. Like he still respects other humans, even if he is part of a biker gang now.
“Sure. What about you?” the bartender asks, looking at me.
“Can I get a whiskey mixed with pineapple, please?” I say.
“Easy enough. Will you guys be putting in for appetizers?”
“Yeah, we haven’t decided yet,” Asher tells him.
“No problem. I’ll be back with your drinks in a minute.”
“I don’t know what you want, but I know I’m getting the sourdough pretzels for sure,” Asher murmurs against my skin, making me shiver.
I don’t respond to him, relishing the feelings he evokes in my body.
“You cold, baby?” he asks as he starts to rub my arms.
“You know I’m not,” I say, making him chuckle.
“What do you want off the menu? Feel free to pick more than one,” he reminds me.
My tone is husky when I respond. “Oh, I’m totally going for the guacamole and queso platter and the spinach artichoke dip.”
“Solid choices, baby,” he rumbles against my ear before he presses a kiss to it.
When the bartender comes back with our drinks, Asher places the order. The bartender gives us a little puck thing that will tell the staff where we are, so they can bring our food out to us.
“Where do you want to start?” Asher asks before taking a drink from his beer.
I’m mesmerized by the way his throat moves when he swallows. I want to lick up his neck and taste the salt on his skin.
“Songbird, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to say to hell with being a gentleman and fuck you in the bathroom,” he growls at me.
I smile at him, considering telling him to do it, but I know how important it is for him to do this right, so I clear my throat instead.
“Let’s start with axe throwing. After that, we should either do mini golf or air hockey,” I tell him.
He presses a kiss to my temple. “Sounds like a plan.”
Once again, he takes my hand in his and leads me to the axe-throwing area. When at the booth, a worker comes up and gives us instructions on what and what not to do.
“I won’t lie, I feel like that wasn’t very much guidance before leaving people with sharp objects,” I tell Asher when the guy walks away.
Asher tips his head back and laughs with his whole body. Something about it makes me smile.
“You aren’t wrong, Songbird. You aren’t wrong. Do you want to go first, or do you want me to?”
“You do it,” I tell him as I take a sip of my drink.
“I don’t know how you can drink that. Pineapple is the devil,” he says as he picks up an axe.
I freeze, my drink halfway to my lips. “Uh, when you say the devil, do you mean you think it’s gross, or do you mean that in the literal sense? Like, are you allergic to it, and if I kiss you, I need to be prepared to call 9-1-1?”
Asher ignores me and walks up to the line. He throws the axe, hitting just north of the bullseye.
“Asher, do I need to order another drink?” I ask when he turns back around.
“Relax, baby, I’m not allergic. I’m just not a fan of the fruit, is all. It kind of makes my mouth itchy.”
“Uh, hate to break it to you, my guy, but that means you’re allergic.” I push the drink away from me.
“It’s never sent me to the hospital. You’re fine, I swear,” he says as he pushes it back toward me.
I eye the drink. I fucking love pineapple. Like, I could eat it morning, noon, and night.
Shit, this is going to suck to give it up.
Then again, I can always eat it like it’s going out of style when he’s gone doing club business.
“Baby, it’s not that deep,” he says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Uh…yeah, it is. I’m not going to be selfish and keep mixing my drink with something that could cause you a hospital visit. Changing my mixer is the least I could do.”
His eyes soften. “You’re too sweet, you know that.”
I scoff as I push off the table. “Don’t lie. We both know I’m not sweet.”
I go and grab an axe. Walking up to the line, I take a deep breath as I raise it above my head with two hands. Then I fling it down the line. I watch as it rotates over and over until it hits the target on the bottom side of the bullseye.
Well, shit, I wasn’t expecting that.
“Damn, baby, look at you.”
“I won’t lie, I was just hoping I hit the target,” I tell him honestly, making him laugh.
“Come on, let’s grab them and see if you can do it again or if it was just a fluke.”
ASHER
“Woo-hoo! Suck it, Asher!” my girl cheers as she dances around on the mini golf course.
People look our way, but she gives zero fucks, which only makes me smile harder.
The only thing she cares about right now is that she’s absolutely slaughtering me in mini golf.
“You never told me you were a professional,” I tease when I walk toward her.
“You never asked.” She winks.
We head down the little putting green and grab our balls before heading toward the next hole.
“I wonder if they have the guards or whatever the hell they are called.”
“Huh? What the hell are you talking about?” I ask, confused.
“Guards, you know the things they put on the bowling lanes to stop people from sucking and throwing all gutter balls,” she teases.
“Baby, I think you mean bumpers,” I tell her.
“Same thing.” She shrugs.
They aren’t, but hey, if that’s what she wants to think, who am I to tell her she’s wrong?
We head to the next hole, and when I take my turn, the ball bounces off the cup and heads further away.
“Aw, better luck next time,” Aspen says as she pushes me out of the way.
She takes her shot and, of course, sinks it in one try.
Most guys would be throwing a fit right now, but I really don’t care. As long as she’s happy and having a good time, I’m happy, even if it is at my expense.
“Okay, I got to know, are you better at air hockey, or should we do laser tag after this? I’m starting to feel bad about how badly you are losing, and we need to rally,” she says as we head to the next hole.
I shrug. “I don’t care if I lose, as long as it’s a fair game and people aren’t cheating.”
She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. “You really aren’t like other guys, you know that?”
“Are you just now realizing that?” I ask as I bump into her shoulder.
“No, but sometimes it’s easy to forget. You never answered my question, though. Which do you want to do next?”
“Whichever one you want to do, my little songbird.”
She rolls her pretty green eyes. “I asked what you wanted to do. You let me pick mini golf, so it’s clearly your turn.”
“Hey, this date is as much yours as mine,” I remind her.
She finishes off her drink and sets it on a drop-off point with some other glasses for a busboy to come by and collect without having to bother patrons.
“Fine, laser tag, but I hope we end up on the same team.”
“Why do you say that? I could suck at it too.”
She shoots me a dirty look. “Don’t lie. We both know you were a fed, which means you had to qualify with firearms. You should be able to kick all these assholes’ asses with your eyes closed and one hand tied behind your back.”
I laugh. “I always scored perfect.”
“Of course you did.”
“Do you want another drink?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Nah, not right now. I want to ride the buzz for as long as I can.”
Earlier, when she switched her mixer, it did something to me I can’t quite explain. I was serious when I told her I was more than fine with her drinking pineapple juice and even eating the fruit itself. Just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean she has to cut it out of her life if it gives her joy.
The way she adamantly refused to, though, after leaning it makes my mouth feel scratchy, made my heart warm. Other than my sister, it’s been a long time since someone took me into consideration when making decisions about themselves.
I should probably figure out, though, if I am actually allergic to it or if it’s psychosomatic. I don’t ever want to take anything from her. Even something as small as a fruit.
We finish up mini golf, where she kicks my ass, and then head over to laser tag.
“All right, there are going to be six teams of two in there. Remember this is for fun and not life or death,” the worker tells us.
“It’s totally life or death,” Aspen whispers under her breath.
“Agreed,” I murmur back.
The worker goes through the rest of the rules, but I tune out as I study our competition. There are two groups of girls who look like they belong to a sorority, two dudes who look like brothers, and the rest look like couples.
No one looks like they have any real training, but then again, looks can be deceiving.
After the last group leaves, we all head in and find our hiding places.
“Ready to kick some ass, Songbird?” I ask quietly.
Aspen leans in and steals a kiss. “You know it. Let’s kick some ass.”
The next thirty minutes go by faster than I thought possible. Aspen and I work, taking everyone down one by one. The entire time, she heckles the people as we take them out. The lights come back on, and we exit after being the last ones standing.
“Fuck yeah, baby,” she says, giving me a high five.
The worker clears his throat as we step out of the room.
“Um, I’m sorry to bother you guys, but we had some complaints about you two. You made a couple of the women cry.”
“What do you mean we made them cry? We didn’t touch them,” Aspen says.
The kid winces. “They said you were being bullies.”
Aspen gasps. Her hand flies to her chest. “I would never. I’m a girl’s girl.”
I bite the inside of my cheek so hard to stop myself from laughing, I taste copper.
Bullshit. That was all her. I was just the one with good aim.
“I’m going to have to ask you guys to leave. Just for tonight. You guys are welcome to come back.” The kid leans in close. “Between you and me, I watched it all on the cameras. You two make a kick-ass team.”
“Thanks.” Aspen smiles.
We take off our gear and give it back to him.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” I tell her, taking her hand in mine.
On the way out, we pass by one of the groups of girls, and they shoot us a dirty look. Aspen, being Aspen, lunges toward them and growls, making them flinch.
“You’re a shit stirrer,” I mutter as I push her through the door.
“You know, all things considered, that was by far the best date I’ve ever been on,” Aspen says.
“Same, baby. Same.”
It’s nice knowing she agrees. It just means we really are compatible. It’s nice being able to hang out with someone and not have to put on a show. If I’m not careful, she really will end up as my best friend and lover.
Which, now that I think about it, wouldn’t be a bad thing.
Not at all.