The butterflies are going wild in my stomach.
“Perfect. Lead the way.”
It’s still early enough that the place isn’t packed, but it’s definitely busy.
When we get to the bar, he grabs a menu and slides it my way. I can’t help but smile when he cages me between his body and the bar.
“Look at the menu, Songbird,” he murmurs as he scans it over my shoulder.
Before I can say something witty, a bartender comes up.
“Hey, what can I get you guys?” he asks.
“Can I get one of your local tap beers? Preferably an ale, you choose, please,” Asher tells the man.
You would think a biker wouldn’t say please, but the fact that Asher has manners is a turn-on for me. Like he still respects other humans, even if he is part of a biker gang now.
“Sure. What about you?” the bartender asks, looking at me.
“Can I get a whiskey mixed with pineapple, please?” I say.
“Easy enough. Will you guys be putting in for appetizers?”
“Yeah, we haven’t decided yet,” Asher tells him.
“No problem. I’ll be back with your drinks in a minute.”
“I don’t know what you want, but I know I’m getting the sourdough pretzels for sure,” Asher murmurs against my skin, making me shiver.
I don’t respond to him, relishing the feelings he evokes in my body.
“You cold, baby?” he asks as he starts to rub my arms.
“You know I’m not,” I say, making him chuckle.
“What do you want off the menu? Feel free to pick more than one,” he reminds me.
My tone is husky when I respond. “Oh, I’m totally going for the guacamole and queso platter and the spinach artichoke dip.”
“Solid choices, baby,” he rumbles against my ear before he presses a kiss to it.
When the bartender comes back with our drinks, Asher places the order. The bartender gives us a little puck thing that will tell the staff where we are, so they can bring our food out to us.
“Where do you want to start?” Asher asks before taking a drink from his beer.
I’m mesmerized by the way his throat moves when he swallows. I want to lick up his neck and taste the salt on his skin.
“Songbird, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to say to hell with being a gentleman and fuck you in the bathroom,” he growls at me.
I smile at him, considering telling him to do it, but I know how important it is for him to do this right, so I clear my throat instead.
“Let’s start with axe throwing. After that, we should either do mini golf or air hockey,” I tell him.
He presses a kiss to my temple. “Sounds like a plan.”
Once again, he takes my hand in his and leads me to the axe-throwing area. When at the booth, a worker comes up and gives us instructions on what and what not to do.
“I won’t lie, I feel like that wasn’t very much guidance before leaving people with sharp objects,” I tell Asher when the guy walks away.
