Page 17 of Wizard's Spitfire

His last words floor me. He wants to date me? No. No way!

“I’m nearly a decade older than you are. And I have three teenage girls, my mom, and grandfather to take care of.”

“You don’t have to do it alone. And you’re only eight years older than I am.”

“Are you offering?” I ask, astonished.

“I am.”

I puff up. Is he nuts? I start to speak. He floors me by placing his finger gently against my lips.

“Posso finire, Spitfire, per favore?”

I nod my head. Since he asked so nicely and in our mother tongue.

“We’ve gotten to know each other a little over these past few months. Enough to know I want to date you. I understand that comes with Gina, Pops, Val, Frannie, and Luci. While I’m not sure how to address the crush thing, I’m sure with your guidance we will handle it the best way possible.

“Yes, I’m younger than you, but I did two tours in the sandbox with the Marines. The things you see make you grow up real quick. Our club is one hundred percent legit. As is every business we own. If, for whatever reason, we don’t work out romantically, it won’t affect your job with the club. Gambit likes your work. Plus, I’m hoping at the very least we’ll be friends. You don’t need to do this all alone.”

His words had me melting in my seat. I’m nearly a puddle on the floor. While he was talking, he’d put his hand on top of mine and curled his fingers around mine.

“I’ve been on one date since the divorce. It ended in disaster. Maybe I’m not cut out for relationships.”

“Maybe you’ve only dated boys and never a man. I’m only asking for a chance. We can take this at your pace.”

“I wouldn’t want to introduce you to the girls as my boyfriend unless we were serious. I hope you understand.”

He nods his head. “Completely. Working together gives us the perfect excuse for us to spend time together. Your family is welcome to the clubhouse any time. You could come for the day or spend the weekend at the compound. We have one five-bedroom, four-bathroom guest house. Some of our ally clubs like to stay under the same roof. There’s even a bodega on site to stock the fridge and pantry. I can send the prospects to tote, fetch, buy, etc.”

“You make them do a lot of things.”

“We need to push them. To prove their loyalty. Once you’re a fully patched member, you get a vote and a percentage of the profits from each business.”

“Do you all get an equal share?”

“No. Brass gets a bigger percentage because we have the most responsibilities. Plus, whoever manages the business gets a bonus. The club regularly gives bonuses.”

“How many businesses does the club own?”

“We currently have sixteen. Voodoo Armadillo, a pub. It’s connected to one of our more recent ventures, Pele’s Palace. The Baron’s Best, a brand of medical marijuana. We make a variety of products. The brand is currently only sold at Swamp Witch Herb, our dispensary. We also have a grow farm. It seriously needs a name. Blue Bayou Customs does mostly sleds. Elvis takes three or four classic cars in a year. He has a six-yearwaiting list and clients begging him to expand. He’s also the lead singer of the club’s band, which they keep changing the name of. I have no idea what it is this month.”

“Who’s in it besides Blue?”

“Smoke, Outlaw, and Papa.”

He laughs, then playfully narrows his eyes. “How much of what I just told you did you already know?”

“I know the black and white of the businesses. Enough to know I’m working for the good guys and not the bad ones. I didn’t know anything about the band. I loved all the information you added.”

“What’s another of our businesses?” He asks with a smile.

“Professor Pumps in Baton Rouge and Grunt Work fitness here.”

His smile widens. His green eyes sparkle. He rubs his thumb across the back of my hand. “Very good.”

The server places our dessert in the middle of the table.

“How about a ride after dinner?” Wizard asks.

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