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CHAPTER4
Wes
“You're smitten,”Jeremy says as we sit in our regular booth and watch as Quinn works the bar, looking sexy in her shorts and combat boots. Her hair is down tonight, straightened, and sexy as fuck. She keeps playing with the ends, a move that causes every inch of my body to react in turn. Her eyes meet mine every once in a while, and when they do, her intake of breath is my signal that I affect her just as much as she does me. I want to tell my brother to fuck off, but he's one-hundred-percent right. I'm in deep, and I haven't even kissed her yet. I wanted to yesterday when I had her up against the wall, eyes hooded and breathing erratic, but I knew she needed time. I know she wants me, but I don't want our first kiss to be right after I find her crying alone in a dark hallway.
“Have you asked her out yet?” Jeremy sips his beer, a knowing smirk on his face.
He knows I'm usually the type to make the first move, so me waiting this long is fodder for his teasing.
I nod slightly as his eyes bug out, and he chokes on his drink.
“What? We’ve been here almost an hour, talked about everything and anything, and you leave that news out?”
I chuckle to myself at the dramatics, a trait he inherited from our father.“Calm down there, slugger,” I mutter, knowing he hates that nickname, and from the fury laced within his gaze, it works. “I was going to tell you, but I wanted to wait until she said yes first.” Not a complete lie. I just didn't want to tell him she rejected me since I know exactly what his reaction will be.
“Ha! Are you seriously telling me that she said no?” When I nod, he bursts into a fit of laughter, causing almost every pair of eyes in the pub to turn our way, including Quinn’s.
“Yes, and please, laugh a little louder. I don't think the people outside heard you.” Annoyance filters through my tone.
“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers through even more laughter, and I know from the smirk on his face that he doesn't mean a word. “She really turned you down?”
I dip my head, taking a deep breath as my brother begins laughing once again.“Are you done?” My head lifts as he tries to school his features but fails.
“Sorry, man, I just never expected a woman to ever turn you down. Are you okay? Do you need me to bandage your ego?”
I shake my head as my eyes roll back so hard, I'm surprised he doesn't feel it sitting all the way across the table.
“Has that ever happened to you before?”
I want to contradict his point, but I can't. I've never had to work to get a girl to go out with me. It's always been simple and easy, but Quinn has changed the game.
“No,” I mutter, looking over his shoulder at Quinn, who is serving a few girls at the end of the bar.
“What did you do?” he asks as if he was expecting me to be pissed.
“What do you mean ‘what did I do?’ I told her I would see her tomorrow and left.”
He tilts his head in confusion, and for the millionth time over the past thirty-three years, I wonder what the fuck is going on inside his head.“Seriously?”
“What did you expect me to do? Force her?” He says nothing, and I continue, “Jer, she's going through some shit. I don't know what that shit is yet. But I can see it written all over her face. So I'm taking my time. I like her, and if I need to wait for her to be ready, then I will.”
“Wow...how are you my brother?” he jokes.
I burst out laughing because he's got a point. Jeremy and I have always had girlfriends...well, I've had girlfriends. He’s had a long list of one-or two-night stands. I don't think I've ever seen him in a serious relationship.
“I ask the same question daily.” He throws a fry my way, and I dodge it. “You want another drink?” I ask, seeing his glass is empty.
He nods just as his phone rings, and he picks it up. He begins talking numbers, so I take that as my cue to leave.
As I make my way toward the bar, all I can think about is how good Quinn felt against me last night and how much I wanted to kiss her. That sensation is rocking through me the closer I get, so when I lean up against the bar, waiting for her to make her way toward me, I take a deep breath and calm myself down, knowing that if I push her too hard, too fast, she will run.
“Hey there, stranger,” Quinn says, stopping in front of me, a towel draped over her shoulder and her hair now pulled up high in a bun.
“Hey, yourself. You're looking particularly gorgeous tonight,” I say, loving the pink hue that graces her cheeks.
“Thank you.”
I nod once, looking down the bar at the group of girls who have now stopped talking and are watching me with round eyes.
