Page 137 of Their Wicked Ways

Quinn’s truck was parked near the entrance. I tried not to let my nerves get the better of me as I slipped inside the shop.

It wasn’t busy. Four people stood in line, and only a handful of the tables were taken. That probably had to do with how early it was. The shop was always packed closer to rush hour.

Quinn sat at a table near the door, reading something on his phone.

“Hey.” I came up to him.

“Hey.” He powered down his phone and tucked it away. “Is everything okay? We can grab something to go if you don’t want to talk here.”

“That might be best.” A coffee shop probably wasn’t the best way to announce my sexuality, or my relationship. “But everything’s fine. I hope.”

“That sounds ominous.” Pushing back his chair with a loud scrape, he stood. “Should I be worried?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“You’re not helping my nerves here.” He waved for me to get in line with him. “But we can talk more when we’re outside.”

I tried to think of something random to talk about while we waited, but Quinn didn’t seem uncomfortable or put off by the silence.

When it was our turn, Quinn motioned for me to follow him to the till.

“Hi, what can I get started for you?” the barista asked, his eyes full of appreciation as he looked Quinn up and down.

“Hi,” Quinn shot him a brilliant smile, but that was just his nature. Even this early, when I knew for a fact he wasn’t a morning person and probably barely slept last night, he was still happy and friendly and had a ready smile for everyone.

Hopefully he still smiled at me when he found out I was dating his stepbrother’s best friends. I couldn’t see him having a problem with us being coworkers since he hired Zane and Noah after they’d started dating, but the whole triad thing might be hard for him to accept.

“Do you want your usual?” Quinn flicked his gaze to me.

I nodded.

“Can I get a large chai latte and a large London fog?” He scanned the display of pastries. “And a dozen donuts.”

“Any specific type?” the barista asked, somehow making the question sound suggestive.

“A mix is fine.” He pulled out his wallet. “Should we get anything for Ez and Wes?” he asked, casually thumbing out his debit card.

I managed not to choke or make a weird sound but couldn’t stop my jaw from dropping in shock.

Did he know about us? How?

He shot me a little smirk as the barista filled a box with donuts. “I saw you pull up.” He ticked his chin at the giant window he’d been sitting in front of. “Relax.” He bumped my shoulder with his. “We’ll talk more outside. I’m just letting you know that whatever you tell me will be okay.”

The barista told us our total. Quinn paid, and I spent the time trying to get my head back in order.

He knew about us, and he was okay with it?

That meant he already knew about me.

“Come on.” Quinn tucked the box under his arm and picked up his drink.

Woodenly, I grabbed mine and followed him out of the café.

Rather than turn left toward where Ez and Wes’s truck sat, he turned right and led me to a nearby patio area with tables and chairs.

“Sit.” He put the box on one of the tables and slid into the chair.

I did the same.

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