Page 39 of Maverick
“Do you know what you might want?” Quinton asked once our drinks arrived.
Still reeling from the tender care that he’d shown me, I couldn’t even think that far ahead. “Surprise me,” I responded without even picking up my menu. “I’ll eat just about anything.”
I couldn’t focus on a single word that Quinton was saying. I was too mesmerized by his dazzling smile and his charming personal—damn it, it was working on me too. Feeling heat rush to my face, I stared into my margarita, focused on mixing it up. I offered a polite smile to the server when she threw one my way, but couldn’t seem to find a single word until she walked away. “Are you ready to tell me what this is all about?” I asked Quinton.
“What do you mean?”
“Showing up at my house… kidnapping me?—”
“I hardly drug you out of there.”
Ignoring him, I gestured around me. “All of this—are you playingfootsiewith me?”
Quinton broke into laughter. The deep, booming sound warmed me from the inside out. His foot teased up my calf, and I wriggled in my seat. “Alright, you caught me. I may have had ulterior motives in getting you alone tonight.”
“Which are…”
“I wanted to check in with you after last week. I know we alltalked as a group, but I feel like it’s important for everyone’s feelings to be heard.”
“Have you ever done this before?” I asked. “The whole… poly thing?”
Quinton dropped his voice down. “In a scene setting, yes, but never anything long term but I don’t typicallydatelong term because of our lifestyle.”
“What makes this different?”
His mouth quirked at the corners, and he leaned forward onto the table. “How long ago were you with Maverick?”
“Point taken. He’s a hard man to forget.” I took a deep breath before I formed my next thought. Given my sudden crush on the man, I feared that I wouldn’t get the response I wanted. “But that doesn’t mean you have to do this with me. You heard Maverick before.”
“Does that mean you wouldn’t be interested?” He asked, cocking a brow and teasing his leg even higher.
God, is it getting hot in here? “I didn’t say that.”
“We can take it slow.” He placed his hand on the table, palm up—an open invitation, one I gratefully accepted. Those butterflies in my stomach fluttered away but this time, I welcomed them. “As slow as you need to. And if all of this—” He waved around the restaurant. “Makes you uncomfortable, we don’t have to do it every time. But I do think that we should check in occasionally, just to make sure we’re all on the same page.”
“I’m okay with that.”
As the night wore on, I realized: I’d never actually been on a date before. No one had ever reached for my hand in public, or opened a door for me or hell, even ordered me a drink. Was that what I’d been missing out on all those years? I didn’t have to think. I didn’t have to call out for the server when my water was empty, because Quinton had already done it. For so long, my life was nothing more than football. Home, training, games—rinse andrepeat. Yeah, I’d hook up with someone every now and then, but I’d never stopped to simply enjoy…existingwith another person.
I should have done it with Maverick.
Dinner wrapped up way too quickly and almost as if he could tell that I wasn’t ready to go home, Quinton ordered another margarita for me. He seemed content to sit back and talk while I drank, dragging the evening on as long as possible.
That feeling in my stomach didn’t waver either. My legs stayed entwined with Quinton’s under the table, and his hand in mine whenever we could manage it. A few people approached to greet us but thankfully, no one lingered the moment they realized that we were sharing a private moment.
Quinton drove me home, keeping a possessive hand on my leg the entire way. For once, I wasn’t focused on taking things to the next step. I was content with the night as it was.
“Thank you for this,” I told him as he walked me to the door hand in hand. I swayed, tipsy from the tequila—or him; I couldn’t quite tell anymore, but it feltgood. “You could have at least let me pay for something.”
“I won’t hear any of that. All I wanted was for you to have a good night—and to come out of it feeling better about… us.”
“I did.”
Standing there, under my porch light—which I hadn’t turned on…damn it, Beck—I found myself not wanting to let go of Quinton’s hand. But on the same thought, inviting him inside and up to my bedroom felt like it would ruin an extremely intimate night, especially without Maverick there to see it.
Quinton’s finger under my chin pulled me from my thoughts. He tipped my head back, my eyes finding his. The sun had set, leaving the only source of light being the porch lantern above us, and the lightning bugs that twinkled across the lawn. He took a step closer.
Oh, shit.
