Page 6 of Wild Child
“I appreciate that.”
Top hat pulls the men away from the bar, and I’m impressed that Quentin manages to clear a bachelor party just with his mere presence.
He’s an imposing man, not as tall as some of the other guys here, but he’s stocky. Thick shoulders and a body like a barrel, which is half the reason he got his road name, Barrels. It’s also appropriate for the man who runs the brewery.
But I prefer to call him sergeant. With his tight-fitting khaki t-shirt, close cropped hair, and smoothly shaved chin, he looks like he never left the military. The rumor is he would have gone all the way to Sergeant Major if he’d stayed in. I can believe it with his permanent scowl and set ways.
Within moments the men are shuffling out the door, trailing pieces of fancy dress with them. All that’s left are empty glasses and hardly touched food platters.
“How do you do that? Clear all the fun out of a bar so quickly?”
A ghost of a smile teases Quentin’s lips. “Military training.”
I start loading glasses onto a drinks tray, and Quentin helps with the clean-up.
“You don’t need to work tonight, Charlotte.”
He’s the only person who calls me by my full name, and his deep rumbling voice sends a shiver down my spine. It’s probably some military protocol thing.
I dump the last of the glasses on the bar where Davis is loading them into the dishwasher. “I’m fine. I’ll get this cleared up and grab some food before the evening shift.”
He shakes his head. “Travis is covering your shift.”
I lean on the bar, wondering what this is all about. You can never be sure what’s happening in this place. The club works together, and everyone generally has their assigned jobs in the restaurant, with the bike mechanics, or in the brewery. But if you’re in the club, you’re expected to help out where needed. I like that. It’s like one big community.
“You’re coming with me to the Phoenix Beer Festival.”
I gape at him. “Are you serious?”
The festival’s all the way across the country. Hazel and Marcus have been planning it for weeks.
“Hazel’s sick, and Marcus won’t leave her. Half my men have sick kids or wives. You and me are all there is.”
“But…”
I want to protest just to be contrary, but it’s been a while since I was on the open road, and I miss it. It will be nice to do something different for a few days even if it is with the uptight sergeant.
I shrug. “Okay.”
He smiles, showing tiny crease lines by his eyes that give him a softer look.
“Good. Go home and pack your bags. We’re going on a road trip.”
3
QUENTIN
My watch glows in the post dawn light. I told Charlie we were leaving at zero-six-hundred hours, and it’s now zero-six-fourteen.
She’s late.
I’ve been on the compound since zero-five hundred doing final checks of the truck and loading the last of the supplies. The mobile drinks truck is filled with bottles of our finest beer for the festival customer and samples of our best brews for potential new distributors.
I’ve got everything tied down and padded so we don’t lose any bottles. My duffle bag is in the back, and I’m waiting with the door open to load Charlie’s bag and hit the road.
I check my watch again. Zero-six-nineteen.
I grind my teeth together. We’ve got a lot of miles to cover in the next two days, and I like to start early.
