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CHAPTER5
Quinn
He returned the next night,the night after that, and then the night after that. Always after work and always wearing the same thing. Not that it bothers me because a tight black dress shirt and dress pants are not my idea of a bad look, especially when that person looks like Wes.
Wesley Hunt is every fantasy I've ever had personified, and for the life of me, I can't figure out why I haven’t said yes to his advances. Every night, he comes into the pub, sits in his usual seat, orders food and one beer, and at the end of the night, he asks me out. I always say no, and as I watch the front door with rapt attention, I wonder if I'm ready for more than what-ifs.
Last night, he stayed until closing, sitting at the bar instead of his usual seat, and we talked about everything. I told him about my uncle and how he left me the bar before he died, how much I love working here, and how this building is ingrained in my memories. I know I should admit what's happening, how I’m in danger of losing this place, but I can't do it. I can't expose my failings to this man. I can't admit that I took over, and everything is falling apart.
I look at my watch for the millionth time tonight, and a sinking feeling hits my stomach when Wes doesn't walk through the door. My heart stutters at the realization that I might have lost my chance. What if I waited too long? What if he's moved on and decided I wasn't worth it after all?
“Hey boss, I'm heading out!” Jess calls from across the room.
I nod, watching my best server clock out and make her way to the front door. I shake my head and try to focus on the job at hand—closing up for the night—rather than wondering what Wes is doing instead of being here with me.
I can't spend my night sulking, so I take a deep breath and make my way to the backroom, taking out some new liquor bottles and bringing them out front. As I set the bottles down onto the bar, taking the empties down from their shelf, I hear the front door open once more.
“Did you forget something, Jess?” I look around, trying to figure out what she could have left behind, but see nothing.
“Now, what has put that sad look on your beautiful face?” Wes asks softly. Startled, I drop the empty bottle in my hands and jump as it shatters on the floor.“Shit!” I whisper, dropping to my knees and cursing once again when the glass cuts my hands.
“Fuck,” Wes mutters from somewhere as I try to ignore my racing heart, his footsteps getting closer and closer. “You okay, Angel?”
My eyes close, loving the nickname just a little too much. I go to stand, and being my stupid self, I decide to place my hands on the ground, and that’s when I remember the remnants of my last stupid mistake as the shards stick into my skin.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I curse under my breath as I finally stand and turn only to come face-to-face with Wes, and of course, he looks even better than the images I conjured up from memory earlier. “Hi,” I whisper, hating the uncertainty in my voice and melting just a little bit when he smiles down at me, taking my bloody hands in his and inspecting them with such focus that I almost forget to breathe.
“Hi,” he says through a slight smile. “Sorry I scared you.”
His fingers lightly brush the small cuts on my hands, and when I flinch, he shakes his head, leading me away from the mess I created and back toward my office. “I’m guessing you have a first-aid kit somewhere in this place?”
I nod, still saying nothing because the way his fingers grip my wrist is causing my brain to short circuit.
“Angel, you need to tell me where the first-aid kit is so I can help you.”
That cocky smirk lights up his face, and I have this undeniable need to kiss him, so much so that my eyes flick from his eyes to his lips as my tongue darts out and licks my bottom lip, causing a growl to come from Wes’s throat.
“Quinn. First-aid kit.”
His voice is like gravel as my eyes dart back up to his. My head nods as I escape his hold and make my way into my bathroom to fish out the plain white box from beneath my sink.
As I enter the office once more, I take in the scene before me. Wes is leaning back against my desk, his legs crossed at his ankles and his arms folded over his spectacular chest. When those green eyes meet mine, I take a breath, wondering if he knows just how much he's starting to affect me.
“You sure you're okay, Angel?” he asks, taking the kit from my hands and placing it beside him.
I nod, watching as he diligently takes out the disinfectant and gently begins to clean my minor wounds.
“I need to hear the words, Quinn. Are you okay?”
I smirk, loving the demanding tone.
“Yes, I'm okay. It just—” I wince as the alcohol hits one of my cuts. “...stings,” I mutter through gritted teeth.
“Sorry, I know it hurts.”
I nod, my eyes tracking his fingers as they lightly trace over my palms.“I thought you weren't coming tonight,” I blurt out, then close my eyes, hoping a hole appears beneath me.
“You were watching for me?” he teases, our gazes meeting as he winks, taking a bandage out and carefully wrapping up my hands.
