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“No. It’s Colt tonight.” The missing weight of my cut was noticeable, but it didn’t bother me as much as I thought it might.
“Good choice.” He left, leaving the door open.
* * *
Second-guessing myself wasn’t something I did. I knew what I wanted and went after it.
But while I waited for Peyton to meet me in the lobby, every possible way things could go wrong tonight played out in my head. Did I pick the right restaurant? Did Leanne find her a nice dress? Did she like the shoes?
With my hands in my pockets, I paced up and down the lobby, trying to burn off the excess energy coursing through me.
Thirty-four years old and I was going on my first date. My first date with the only person who mattered.
Clicking heels echoed down the hallway, and tension zipped up my back. Letting out a fast breath, I squared my shoulders as the heels click-clacked closer. A hard swallow, and I turned toward the hallway to greet her.
My mind emptied of every thought except one:I’m the luckiest man alive.
Peyton didn’t walk. She strutted in heels like she was born to walk a runway. The sway of her hips hypnotized me. I wanted to stop her and make her start again but slower so I could memorize the movements. Her dress, held up by two tiny scraps of string that I wanted to rip off with my teeth, clung to her in all the right places.
Most of all, I noticed how she glowed. Light poured out of her, and I wanted to bask in it. There was no one more beautiful than Peyton Linwood. No one.
Her shy smile was like an arrow to the heart. I was such a goner. My lungs burned from holding my breath, and I gasped for air as she walked toward me. My every fantasy in one perfect package.
I closed the small distance between us, loving how the heels brought her almost to my shoulders. I gave her a soft kiss and pulled back. “You’re breathtaking.” Slipping my hand into hers, I laced our fingers together. “Ready?”
She nodded, and I pulled her toward the exit.
“Have fun, kids,” Chris called out. I snapped my head up to find Peyton’s entire team standing off to the side, watching us. The varied looks on their faces told me that they had mixed feelings about me, but shining in each of their eyes was the promise of a painful death should I so much as step one toe out of line. Staring back at them, I placed a kiss on Peyton’s knuckles to signal that I had no intention of fucking this up.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
PEYTON
Wow.Okay. This was happening.
We strolled along the Willamette River as daylight dwindled, the cool October breeze doing little to soothe my nerves. I wasn’t sure I could speak with my nerves going off like they were. I’d faced dangerous, evil men pointing guns at my face and didn’t bat an eye. Yet this date, one that had so far consisted of a car ride and a short walk, had me tied up in knots.
I watched him out of the corner of my eye. Something was different about him, and it wasn’t only that he wasn’t wearing his cut. The way he held himself, how he moved next to me. Keeping me close. Holding my hand, tightening it whenever it seemed like I might pull it back. Or maybe it was me. For years, being with him like this was my dream. The way his hand squeezed mine told me this was actually happening.
Reaper pulled me up to the hostess stand outside my favorite restaurant and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “Colt for two.”
Oh.Oh.That was what was different. He wasn’t Reaper tonight. He was giving me Colt McMillan, the man. Uncle Wolf did it with Aunt Jeannie sometimes, to remind her that she had all of him. The Man and the Biker.
I’d thought he would shed Colt and everything attached to the name once he got his road name. Most of the brothers completely ignored the name they were given at birth, but it seemed that wasn’t the case for him.
The hostess tapped her screen and flashed a wide customer-service smile. “Your table is ready. Follow me please.”
We followed her, weaving through the tables away from the loud open kitchen and bar and into the outdoor seating at the back. Fairy lights woven with vines allowed glimpses of the deep purple sky above. Once we were seated, the hostess handed us our menus and told us our server would be with us shortly before leaving us alone.
Not ready to break the silence between us, I scanned the menu. Everything they served here was amazing, and I had no idea how I would choose only one meal. I usually ordered a variety of items and shared with whoever came with me.
I eyed the patio exits, calculating the distance and how many people were between us and our way to potential safety. A habit so engrained in me that I didn’t realize I was doing it until I started counting the people seated around us.
“Hungry?” Reaper asked. On cue, my stomach rumbled, and heat crawled up my cheeks. It was like he cast a spell over the night. Over me. This quiet, nervous person wasn’t me. Not anymore.
“Good evening, my name is Manny, and I’ll be taking care of you this evening.” The server’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “What can I get you to drink?”
I opened my mouth to order, but Reaper beat me to the punch. “I’ll take an old fashioned, bartender’s choice. She’ll have the 2018 de Ladoucette Sauvignon Blanc. We’re going to try every plate from the appetizer and entrée menus, so we’d appreciate you pacing them out.”
