Page 18 of Titus

“Mine too. I can’t lie, the ladies in the lodge made this happen. They set this all up. I just got the lilies. My mom loved them, so I figured you might too.”

His eyes soften when he mentions his mother, making this big, tough, sexy man even more attractive. I can see myself falling hard and normally I would pump my brakes because this has been quick but not this time. Not with him. He’s truly different from any other man I’ve ever dated. Being the heiress to a multi-million dollar national brand has dictated the circles I run in and in those same circles, I’ve found myself attracted to and in relationships with cookie cutter versions of my father.

Don’t get me wrong, my dad is wonderful and I love him dearly but he’s square, always by the book, and never colors outside of the lines. Titus is the complete opposite. He says exactly what’s on his mind; he doesn’t tailor his words to fit a mold. He’s rugged, determined, and ambitious. Unlike the men in my past, nothing has been given to Titus. He has earned everything; I admire that the most about him. So, for once, I’m taking a chance and going full throttle, all gas no brakes.

“They are actually my favorite flower too,” I admit.

He removes one of the lilies from the vase and hands it to me. “Good. I didn’t want to mess this up,” he says before pulling my chair out. When I’m seated, he sits in the other chair. “I chose steak and lobster for dinner. That’s straight with you?”

“I love them both but let’s toast before we eat. This is a celebration for you after all. Let’s celebrate.”

I grab both glasses and he stands and pulls the bottle of champagne from the bucket. He holds it away from the table to keep the water on the bottle from failing on the table. After taking his keys out of his pocket, he uses one to break the foil on the bottle. He angles the bottle in his hand then turns to look at me.

“I hate opening these damn bottles,” he scoffs before opening it.

He might hate opening the bottles but it’s clear he knows how because it hisses instead of popping. He hands me the bottle and I fill both glasses, pouring at a slight angle to lessen the foam but preserve the bubbles. Bubbleless champagne diminishes any celebration.

“You make the toast,” I suggest.

With a low, sexy chortle, she says, “Nawl. I’m not a toaster. That’s all you, Quinn.”

I’m obsessed with the way my name falls off his lips.

“Um. Let’s see. It has to fit the occasion,” I say, stalling as I search my brain for something catchy and cowboy fitting. When the words come to me, I begin, “May Phoenix ride fast, your rope knot be tight, let’s celebrate and toast to you tonight.” I tap my glass on his but he’s so caught up in laughter that he barely taps my glass back. “Wow, you’re laughing at me,” I say with faux offense because I’m actually amused too.

After leaning down and kissing my lips passionately, he says, “That shit was corny but I can’t front. I liked it but I also just like yo’ pretty ass.”

He pecks my lips one more time then downs his champagne. I refill his glass then he joins me at the table in his seat so we can eat. After he says a short silent prayer over the food, he removes the tops of both platters. My platter has a massive tomahawk steak, two large, split, grilled lobster tails, and perfectly grilled asparagus spears. A butter boat and sliced lemons are on the side. When I glance over at his much smaller serving, I laugh.

“I think that one is mine,” I say and he nods to agree before swapping the platters.

My new one has smaller options but it’s still too much. I have a bone-in prime rib steak, one grilled lobster, the same perfectly grilled asparagus spears, and a butter boat and lemon slices. The food looks as wonderful as it smells. After I remove my silverware from the cloth napkin, I place the napkin in my lap then slice into my steak. The first bite is juicy, well-seasoned, and buttery. It practically melts into my mouth.

“How is it?”

“So amazing. I’m going to be in a coma when I finish this.” When I cut my lobster tail, I glance over at my single lily then at the bouquet. Seeing them makes me curious about him, especially the woman who birthed him. “You said you are from Diamond Falls. Your mom is still there?”

“Yes. She’s not going anywhere. She was actually born here though but left when she was seventeen. Her parents didn’t like that shit, especially because she was following a man. They stayed together for three years then he just left and never came back. Her pride wouldn’t let her return home so she stayed.”

“By herself?”

“Nawl. She had me. That nigga left when she got pregnant and wouldn’t get rid of me,” he says and I’m speechless. My words escape me and if they hadn’t, I’m not sure how to respond. Thankfully, he continues before I say the wrong thing. “We didn’t need him anyway. While she didn’t come back here, shedid reconnect with my grandparents and uncle when I was born. They helped when she went to school and got her GED then nursing degree.”

“Was she at the rodeo today?”

“Oh nawl,” he says sternly.

“She was working?”

“No,” he says with a slight smile. “She supports me. Hell, all of my trophies, ribbons, certificates, you name it, it’s all at her crib on her Titus wall. She will watch on television if it’s broadcasted and Lab sends her videos of me but she will not watch in person. She was at the rodeo when Lab got hurt. That fucked her up, real bad.”

“Oh…that had to be hard. I understand.”

“Tie-down roping is nothing like bull riding but she can’t separate the sports. I get it so I don’t trip.”

“What about yo’ people?”

“My family in Crescent Falls. My mom was born there; her family is one of the founding families, the Redmonds,” I say, then laugh a little at myself. “Sorry, I always sound like a historian when I talk about my family. Taarini hates it.”

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