20. Charlie

20

CHARLIE

Q uentin’s hand tightens in mine as we cross the parking lot to the Wild Riders MC headquarters. My dad’s bike is parked with the rest of the motorbikes which means he’s inside.

We took three days on the return trip, making love in rundown motel rooms on the side of the highway. There were plenty of opportunities to tell my dad, but Quentin wants to do it in person.

So here we are. Back on Wild Heart Mountain, the truck parked in the parking lot and Quentin striding ahead with his hand firmly clasped in mine.

He’s freshly shaved with a crisp t-shirt on, but there’s a line of perspiration on his forehead, which is the only sign he’s nervous.

I still don’t know what he has to worry about. My father’s not the boss of me. I was all for telling him over the phone about us, but Quentin insisted on speaking to him face to face.

We head to the bar first where Davis is polishing glasses. Luke has his wheelchair pushed up to a table where he’s folding napkins.

“Thank God you’re back,” he says. “They took me out of the workshop to set tables.”

Luke’s still a prospect and has to go where he’s asked, even if he is one the best bike mechanics in the shop.

Davis comes out from behind the bar and gives Luke a playful punch on the arm.

“And we missed you, Charlie.”

His gaze drops to where my hand is locked with Quentin’s, and his smile falters. “About damn time.”

I startle in surprise. I’ve become friends with Davis since we work together so often, and I had no idea he had noticed the attraction between Quentin and me.

“Where’s Raiden?” Quentin asks.

“He was in the office a minutes ago.”

Quentin starts for the door, tugging me behind him.

“This is going to be interesting,” mutters Davis. “Better get the popcorn on, Luke.”

Quentin frowns at him and is about to say something when Dad strides into the room.

“You’re back!”

The banter stops, and everyone pauses what they’re doing. Quentin drops my hand, and the shock of the action makes me catch my breath.

Dad embraces me and shakes Quentin’s hand, and they start talking about the roads and the journey back.

I stand there like a spare wheel wondering when Quentin’s going to tell him.

The conversation turns to the festival and how we’re going to fulfill all the new orders. I nibble on the end of my fingernail, waiting for Quentin to say something about us.

As their conversation drags on, my heart sinks. He’s not going to say anything. When it comes to facing up to my dad, his stupid honor is going to get in the way after all.

I fold my arms and huff, and finally both men turn towards me.

“And how’s my girl? Did he look after you on the road?”

A vision from our morning love-making session of Quentin’s head between my thighs flashes into my head.

“He did.”

I catch Quentin’s eye, and he’s staring at me with a soft look. His hand reaches for mine, and our finger entwine.

All my worries about him slip away, and we share a smile.

My father frowns, and his gaze drops to our entwined fingers.

“We’ve got something to tell you.” Quentin’s voice is steady, and he squeezes my hand.

“What the fuck?” My dad doesn’t give him the chance to speak. “Why are you holding hands with my daughter?” His voice has a dangerous edge, and I take a step back. I’ve never seen Dad angry like this before.

But Quentin holds his ground.

“We’re together.”

“Like fuck you are.” Dad pulls himself up straight and glowers at Quentin. “What did you do to my little girl?”

He pushes Quentin in the chest, and his hand is wrenched from mine as Quentin staggers backwards. He bumps into the table, sending the pile of napkins Luke was folding tumbling to the ground.

“Fuck,” Luke mutters but wisely wheels himself out of the way and joins Davis by the bar.

Quentin holds his hands up in front of him in a placating gesture.

“I tried to fight it, but what’s between us is too strong.”

“You should have fought harder.” Dad pushes him again, but Quentin won’t fight back. “She’s my fucking daughter. You had one job, Quentin, one job. Protect Charlie, look out for her, not…”

He turns away and runs a hand through his hair. “She’s my fucking daughter!”

“She’s right here,” I cut in. “I’m twenty-two years old, Dad. I can make my own decisions.”

He turns on me, and I’ve never seen him this angry. I cower backwards.

“You’re vulnerable, Charlie. I wasn’t around when I should have been, and your mother wasn’t exactly there for you either. You’re desperate for acceptance, and now you’ve fallen into the arms of the first man who offers you that. My so-called friend who should have known better.”

He spits the last bit at Quentin.

His words make my head spin. Is that true? Am I falling for Quentin because he’s the first man who’s treated me right?

I glance at Quentin, and he’s staring at me intently and he shakes his head softly. No . A rush of emotion cascades through me. It’s more than that. I know it is.

“It’s not like that, Dad.”

“It’s exactly like that, and he should have known better.” His wrath turns to Quentin. “Get the fuck out of my club.”

Quentin pulls himself up to his full height. “I’d hoped you of all people would understand about love.” He’s referring to my dad’s second marriage to a much younger woman who he had no business falling for.

Quentin reaches out a hand to me. “Come on, Charlotte. Let’s go.”

I search my dad’s face, because I don’t want to leave like this. I want his blessing, and I want him to be happy for us. But all I see is anger and hurt.

I take Quentin’s hand.

“If you leave with her, don’t come back.”

Quentin hesitates, and my heart is in my throat. When it comes down to it, he’s not going to choose me. I try to slide my hand out of his. To let go before he can reject me. But he only clasps it tighter.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Raiden. But I love Charlotte, and I’m not giving her up.”

“You’re just going to walk away?” Dad sounds incredulous even though that’s just what he told Quentin to do. “You’re going to walk away from the club and the brewery and everything that that we’ve built together?”

Quentin looks at me. Our eyes lock, and his expression softens.

“Yes,” he says simply.

Then he turns, and with his hand firmly in mine, heads for the door.

I stumble after him down the corridor and out into the fresh air. My emotions are in turmoil. This was supposed to be easy. I never meant to make him choose between me or the club.

“You can’t leave the club, Quentin. You can’t leave the brewery.”

Tears are streaming down my cheeks, and he stops to wipe them away.

“I can and I will. You’re the most important thing to me, Charlotte. Live for the moment, whatever the consequences, right?”

He’s got a wild grin on his face, and his smile is infectious.

“So dry your eyes and grab your bike. We’re getting out of here.”

My pulse races as we cross the tarmac to where Colter parked our bikes in the workshop. I stuff my purse in the saddle bag and slide my helmet on.

The bike thrums to life underneath me, and I glance over at Quentin. My pulse is racing, and it picks up at the wild look in his eyes.

“Where to?”

He shrugs his shoulders, and there’s a wide grin on his face. “I don’t know, baby. Let’s just drive and see where the road takes us.”

We rev our engines, and I follow him out of the parking lot and down the mountain road. The wind whips at my face as we leave the Wild Riders MC clubhouse behind us.