Dirty Quinn - a romantic suspense (Dirty Darlings - The Beginning, Book Three)

by Denise Wells

  Keep reading for a sneak preview of “LOVE UNDECIDED” Book one in the Love in San Soloman Series.

  Sneak Peek - LOVE UNDECIDED

  KAT

  My breath catches when I see him walking up.

  He looks good, as in take him home and keep him in bed all afternoon good.

  I’d asked him to meet me at a newer restaurant we’d not been to before when we were a couple, just so there wouldn’t be any competing memories to mess with our heads.

  Or, just my head.

  Because we can’t be together.

  And it doesn’t matter how bad either of us may want to be.

  Not that I want to be.

  No matter what my bestie, Remi, says. Or how many pictures of Brad I still have hidden in my house.

  We’ve been over since the first time I found out I was dying. And that I’m still alive changes nothing.

  If having a terminal illness has taught me nothing else, it’s definitely taught me that all goodness ends. And most times that end is heinous. I mean, whenever you get too used to goodness, it turns bad. Everybody knows that.

  Well everybody but Brad.

  Because nothing bad ever happens to Brad, at least not until me.

  I’m Brad’s bad.

  “Hey,” he says, softly.

  “Hey.” I don’t really know what else to say past that.

  The server saves me by coming to take our orders; I include a glass of Viognier with mine, Brad raises his eyebrow at me but says nothing. I don’t care; I need some fortification to get through this. The only other thing I’ve done that was this hard was returning his ring when the cancer first came back.

  We play at small talk until the food arrives. I'm gonna need more to drink. Half my wine is already gone.

  So, I bite the proverbial bullet and start the real conversation. “How’s Stacy?”

  His girlfriend.

  He looks at me curiously. “She’s doing well.”

  “And, the two of you are doing well?”

  “Are we doing this again Kat? If so, why?”

  I stay silent, hoping it's a rhetorical question.

  “She’s not you,” he says. “But I guess we’re okay, considering.”

  “Considering?”

  “Oh, come on.” He runs his hand over his face and looks at me pointedly. “This is really how we’re going to play this?”

  I look back, hoping I appear innocent.

  He continues, “You know I care about her. She’s a sweet girl.” He sighs loudly. “How’s the guy?”

  “The guy?” I ask.

  “Bauer.”

  Why does he care about Bauer? They don’t even like each other.

  “Uh, fine, I guess. Working hard, all that stuff.”

  “And the two of you?” he asks.

  “The two of us?”

  “This is how we are playing it, right? You ask about Stacy, I ask about Bauer.”

  “Okay…”

  “So, the two of you are well? You’re happy?”

  As in how we work as partners when I consult for the SSPD in solving crimes?

  “Sure,” I say, shrugging. “I mean he’s smart and thorough. And he knows what he’s doing, which is nice.”

  He raises his sunglasses, purposefully I’m sure so I can melt in his eyes.

  “Kat, I don’t want it to be like this. Fuck. You know I’m still in love with you. I’m just hoping you’ll eventually realize you’re still in love with me too.”

  I have realized that, but I’m not about to admit it to him.

  “Let’s be real, he will never be as good for you as I am,” he says.

  “Why would—”

  “Let me finish,” he says. “No one will be as good for you as I am. You don’t belong with him. The same way I don’t belong with Stacy.”

  “But, I’m not—”

  He interrupts me again, telling me all his reasons for feeling how he does. For why he’s right and I’m wrong.

  I wait for a break in his tirade, and gulp the rest of my wine, signaling the server for another, fully prepared to keep drinking until I have to pour myself into an Uber.

  Because now is when I break his heart.

  Again.

  “You need to let me go,” I tell him. “Even if you aren't with Stacy, we won’t work. I can’t be with you. Your mom died from the same fucking disease I have, I can’t be with anyone who has seen me how you have.”

  He just needs to move on with his life. Get married, have babies, coach little league, and host Sunday barbecues.

  I feel the tears streak down my face. I look away from him toward the water, hoping the ocean breeze will blow them dry before he sees them.

  But I keep talking. “I can’t ask you to commit yourself to a life of caretaking and hoping for miracles. To living in constant anticipation of when it will resurface and how, always seeing me as a helpless, weakened victim, with one foot in the grave. That is no way for you to live.”

  “Fuck, Kat.” He leans forward again, resting his forearms on the table, the muscles in his arms flexing.

  “Baby, don’t cry.” He reaches across the table and cups my face, using his thumb to wipe away the tears.

  I blow my nose in my napkin; it makes one of those goose-like honking noises and I laugh.

  Then I can’t stop.

  I’m laughing and crying so hard I have to scoot my chair out and bend over. Brad comes around to my side of the table and kneels in front of me and pulls me into his arms. One hand strokes my back while the other strokes my hair and he murmurs comforting words in my ear.

  When I stop, he leans back, his hands on either side of my face.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” The look in his eyes so sincere, I lose myself in them.

  Again.

  Before I realize what’s happening, we’ve leaned in and are kissing.

  I’m not sure if I kissed him or if he kissed me, but it feels amazing. He groans and deepens the kiss, one hand coming around the back of my head, keeping it in place. His tongue plunging, his lips commanding, the combination intoxicating.

  He tastes so manly, like mint and lemon and home.

  He tastes like I’ve come home.

  I moan and lose myself in the kiss, not bothering to come back to reality until I hear a throat clear, and a small voice asks, “Brad?”

  I pull away and look up to see Stacy standing behind him, her face frozen in disbelief, with eyes wide, mouth agape, and one hand at her throat.

  He stands and turns to look at her.

  “Aw, Stace… Shit…”

  She looks between Brad and me. “I wanted to make sure you were okay… but I can see now you are fine. So… I’m gonna go.”

  And with that, she turns and runs away.

  Brad stands there looking like he’s been shot.

  “Fuck! I’ll be back.”

  He turns to leave, then looks back and points at me.

  “Kat, don’t move!” he growls, and he runs after her.

  I sit there, stunned.

  What the fuck just happened?

  I stand up, throw a bunch of money on the table, and head for the nearest bar, pulling my phone out to text my besties, Lexie and Remi, as I go.

  Shit. Fuck. Piss. Shit. Fuck. Piss. Shit. Fuck. Piss.