Page 42 of Wild Child
So here we are. Back on Wild Heart Mountain, the truck parked in the parking lot and Quentin striding ahead with his hand firmly clasped in mine.
He’s freshly shaved with a crisp t-shirt on, but there’s a line of perspiration on his forehead, which is the only sign he’s nervous.
I still don’t know what he has to worry about. My father’s not the boss of me. I was all for telling him over the phone about us, but Quentin insisted on speaking to him face to face.
We head to the bar first where Davis is polishing glasses. Luke has his wheelchair pushed up to a table where he’s folding napkins.
“Thank God you’re back,” he says. “They took me out of the workshop to set tables.”
Luke’s still a prospect and has to go where he’s asked, even if he is one the best bike mechanics in the shop.
Davis comes out from behind the bar and gives Luke a playful punch on the arm.
“And we missed you, Charlie.”
His gaze drops to where my hand is locked with Quentin’s, and his smile falters. “About damn time.”
I startle in surprise. I’ve become friends with Davis since we work together so often, and I had no idea he had noticed the attraction between Quentin and me.
“Where’s Raiden?” Quentin asks.
“He was in the office a minutes ago.”
Quentin starts for the door, tugging me behind him.
“This is going to be interesting,” mutters Davis. “Better get the popcorn on, Luke.”
Quentin frowns at him and is about to say something when Dad strides into the room.
“You’re back!”
The banter stops, and everyone pauses what they’re doing. Quentin drops my hand, and the shock of the action makes me catch my breath.
Dad embraces me and shakes Quentin’s hand, and they start talking about the roads and the journey back.
I stand there like a spare wheel wondering when Quentin’s going to tell him.
The conversation turns to the festival and how we’re going to fulfill all the new orders. I nibble on the end of my fingernail, waiting for Quentin to say something about us.
As their conversation drags on, my heart sinks. He’s not going to say anything. When it comes to facing up to my dad, his stupid honor is going to get in the way after all.
I fold my arms and huff, and finally both men turn towards me.
“And how’s my girl? Did he look after you on the road?”
A vision from our morning love-making session of Quentin’s head between my thighs flashes into my head.
“He did.”
I catch Quentin’s eye, and he’s staring at me with a soft look. His hand reaches for mine, and our finger entwine.
All my worries about him slip away, and we share a smile.
My father frowns, and his gaze drops to our entwined fingers.
“We’ve got something to tell you.” Quentin’s voice is steady, and he squeezes my hand.
“What the fuck?” My dad doesn’t give him the chance to speak. “Why are you holding hands with my daughter?” His voice has a dangerous edge, and I take a step back. I’ve never seen Dad angry like this before.
