No Strings Attached

by Jiffy Kate

  “That’s awful.” My heart aches for her. I can’t imagine losing my dad. And even though it’s been seven years, I can still see the pain in Quinn’s eyes. I’d love nothing more than to take that from her.

  “He wouldn’t have been able to save himself,” she adds, looking back out the window. “Daniel… uh, Dr. Cartwright… He tried to save him, but it wasn’t his fault either.”

  Things are starting to make more sense. The more I learn about her, unintentional or not, the more the puzzle pieces of Quinn Roland start to fall into place. I don’t press for more and she doesn’t offer anything else.

  Finding out about her dad and how he died seems like enough for one night, but I have one more burning question that can’t wait. While she’s being so forthcoming, I ask, “Why did you go to the club? I know you said Cindy invited you, but what made you want to?” My tone leaves that question a bit open-ended. I’m hoping it comes across without judgment. I’d be the biggest hypocrite on earth if I made it anything but inquisitive.

  Quinn’s features hold tight and I’m afraid the wall is going to slam up in my face, but then she gives me a hint of a smile and shrugs. “I hadn’t had sex in a long time. My job is demanding… but I probably have allowed it to be more so, avoiding relationships. I didn’t want to introduce a man to Henry only to have them let him down. It never felt right, so I just haven’t dated. When Cindy invited me, my knee-jerk reaction was no… hell no,” she says, a genuine laugh following.

  Swallowing, she glances down at her lap and then back up before continuing. “But the more I thought about it and the more Cindy sold it—the health records, anonymity, guarantee I’d get laid with no strings attached…” She pauses, her eyebrows going up as she inhales. “I finally agreed. The combat boots and my old car were ways for me to keep that part of my life separate, like an alias. Nights I went to the club, I wasn’t Quinn Roland, daughter of Quincy Roland; or Quinn the mom; or Quinn the daughter. I wasn’t even Quinn… just a woman looking to relieve some stress. And the money was easily rationalized because I haven’t done anything for myself in years, hardly touching the money my father left me.”

  I sit back in my seat, shocked at her openness and honesty and completely afraid to say anything for fear of disturbing this place we’re in.

  I love how unapologetic she is. I want to tell her that, but I’m afraid even more confessions would follow, ones I’m not ready to say and she’s not ready to hear.

  “Thanks for telling me,” I finally say. “And for what it’s worth, you could’ve said just because and that would’ve been a good enough answer.”

  She huffs, pushing my shoulder lightly, the sadness from the talk about her father still there around the edges.

  As I pull out of the parking lot, what I’d love more than anything else is to take her home with me. But I would settle for the hotel, anywhere I could make her feel better and show her what she means to me. But instead, I drive back to the parking lot where her car is parked.

  When I walk around and open her door for her, she stands and kisses me deeply, with so much passion. If I let my heart come to its own conclusion, it would assume this woman considers me more than a fuck buddy. But I shut it down, reminding myself of her warning—don’t get attached.

  “Thank you for tonight and for being so understanding,” she says, holding tightly to the lapels of my tux.

  Kissing her forehead, I breathe her in. “You’re welcome.”

  “I guess I’ll see you Sunday,” she says, sliding into her SUV.

  “Yeah, I’ll see you Sunday,” I tell her, making sure she and her gorgeous dress are tucked safely inside before I shut her door. Once again, I stand in the parking lot and watch her taillights as she drives away.

  It’s only two days, but it’ll be two days too long.

  I miss her the second she’s out of sight.

  Chapter 14

  “I thought you were going to stand me up,” I say, leaning down and kissing her nose and then her cheek.

  “I might’ve taken the scenic route.” She laughs. “But I brought wine,” she says, holding up the bottle proudly.

  “My mom will love you even more than she probably does already. And you wouldn’t have taken the scenic route if you would’ve let me pick you up.”

  She shrugs, glancing away. “I like driving myself.”

  It’s not a real date if I don’t pick you up. That’s what I want to say because I think deep down, that’s her rationale. It can’t be because she doesn’t want Henry to see us together, because we see each other every Sunday. Maybe it’s her mom. Regardless of the reasoning or the fact she drove herself, I’m glad she’s here.

  “Let’s get inside.”

  I walk her up to the porch and open the door for her. My mom is there instantly, wrapping Quinn in a hug.

  “It’s so good to meet you,” my mom says. “Jude has told us so much about you.” Quinn’s eyes widen over my mom’s shoulder, and I can’t help but laugh.

  “Quinn,” my dad says as my mom ushers her into the kitchen, where everyone else seems to be congregated. “I’m so glad you came.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Harris.”

  “Call me Keith, please.”

  “Wait a second. Like the Keith Harris?” she asks, her eyes widening again. “Sex Talk with Dr. Harris?”

  “The one and only,” my dad says proudly.

  My mom laughs, swatting my dad with a kitchen towel. “Don’t start with that, Quinn. His ego can hardly fit through the door as it is.”

  Oh my God, Quinn mouths to me, and I see her cheeks flush pink.

  “Hi, Quinn,” my sister greets. “I’m Lucy.”

  The shock and awe continue as Quinn says, “You’re on the show too.”

  “Every Tuesday and Thursday,” Lucy says matter-of-factly. She and my dad’s pseudo-fame doesn’t go far around here. None of us allow them to get a big head over their notoriety, so seeing Quinn low key fangirl is quite entertaining.

  “I… I mean, I don’t listen religiously or anything,” Quinn says, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. “But uh, some of the nurses are always listening in the…”

  “Don’t worry about it, Quinn,” Will says, walking over and draping an arm over my sister’s shoulders. “Everyone in this kitchen listens to Sex Talk with Dr. Harris. And these two were his guinea pigs,” he says, laughing.

  “Actually, Susan gave them the initial sex talk. She didn’t trust me to stick with the basics,” my dad interjects.

  “He would’ve brought up anal on the first day,” Will adds, earning an eye roll from my mother.

  I watch Quinn’s eyes grow exponentially and chuckle.

  “And no one should bring up anal on the first day,” Sebastian chimes in, reaching over the counter for a meatball.

  “Can we not talk about anal in the kitchen?” my mother admonishes in her most chastising voice.

  “Anal is definitely a day-two topic.”

  “Enough with the anal,” my mom says loudly.

  I look over to see Quinn hiding her laugh and a beautiful blush on her cheeks.

  “Welcome to the Harrises,” I whisper in her hair, pulling her to me. “Nothing says Merry Christmas like anal talk in the kitchen with your parents.” She hides her face in my chest and loses it.

  “Quinn,” I say, trying to change the subject. “This is Will, my brother-in-law.”

  “How do you do?” Will says in his deep, Texas drawl.

  “And this is Lexie Jameson,” I say, gesturing to the tall blonde standing beside Sebastian. Apparently, they’re now dating.

  Lexie’s well-manicured brow arches as she smiles. “Quinn, nice to see you again.”

  “You two know each other?” I ask, pulling back to look down at Quinn. I’d wanted to ask, but everything about the club is always so hush-hush.

  The sly, knowing smile on her face tells me they do.

  “We met once.”

  “At the club,” Lexie add
s.

  “Oh, at the sex club?” my sister asks excitedly.

  Quinn’s big brown eyes shoot up to mine, pleading for help, but I have none to offer.

  “They all know about the club. I probably should’ve mentioned that. Nothing is off-limits here at Casa de Harris.” She jabs me in the ribs, but I can’t help laughing. Turnabout is fair play. She forgot to mention good ol’ Cindy, so I failed to mention my father and sister are sex therapists and talk about anal like it’s the weather.

  “Will and Lucy want to go there for their anniversary,” Lexie says.

  “Since Jude and I are pretty much black-listed, Lucy will probably be hitting you two up for a connection,” Sebastian adds.

  “Black-listed?” Quinn asks.

  “Yeah, after Sebastian carried Lexie out of the club over his shoulder like a fucking caveman, Kirk told him never to come back.”

  Quinn laughs again, tilting her head back and exposing her gorgeous neck. I would love to be kissing it right now if we weren’t in a room full of people. “Oh, my god. That’s hysterical.”

  “Hey, it easily could’ve been Jude,” Sebastian says, pointing a finger at me.

  “But it wasn’t. You were always so afraid I was going to get your ass kicked out, and you went and did it yourself.”

  “Can we not talk about this?” Sebastian pleads.

  Quinn smiles as a playful, comfortable mood takes over the entire kitchen. “Oh, but it’s so much fun giving you shit.”

  “Oh, I like her already,” Lucy says.

  After dinner and dessert, my dad, Will, Sebastian, and I pour ourselves a couple of fingers of Christmas Cheer, also known as Maker’s Mark Black Label. We stand at the bar in my mom and dad’s sitting room and watch as the girls laugh themselves silly across the room.

  I love seeing Quinn like this.

  I love having her here… with me.

  I love everything about this night.

  Admittedly, I was a little worried about my family scaring her off, but I couldn’t have asked for a better night. As if she feels my eyes on her, she looks my way and smiles—a big, genuine smile—and it lights up the room more than the glow of the enormous Christmas tree.

  Whether she knows it or not, she gave me my Christmas wish.

  Chapter 15

  emergency

  Shit.

  I look at my phone and then back at the road.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  At the next stoplight, I text a quick reply.

  30 minutes?

  As I’m turning into the parking lot of the toy store, my phone buzzes from the passenger’s seat again.

  now

  I roll my eyes and grab the phone as I climb out of the car, but I can’t help the small smile that forces its way onto my face. So impatient.

  “call 911,” I type, laughing to myself before I press send. Neither of us has used that on the other since the night Quinn set the rules of our relationship. I’m not saying we haven’t kept the other waiting from time to time, but eventually, we reply and show up.

  Are you serious?

  I’m just getting ready to reply “yes” when some lady hits me with her basket from behind.

  “Son of a bi—”

  “Language,” the lady screeches, covering her son’s ears with her hands.

  “I’m sorry, but you hit me with your basket.” I bend down and rub my calf where it made contact. What I want to tell her is she should watch where’s she’s fucking going.

  Without another word, the lady turns and begins speed walking into the store, obviously on some sort of timed shopping trip or something. Maybe she’s playing in one of those game shows where you only have a set amount of time to fill your basket.

  My pocket vibrates, reminding me I didn’t reply to Quinn’s last text message.

  hello?

  If you’ll give me 30 minutes, I’ll meet you.

  Fine.

  What does fine even mean? I’ve never understood that. Does it mean okay, I’ll see you in 30 or forget it, you loser, I’ll find someone else to bang?

  I don’t text back. I decide to leave it at that. Maybe I’ll pick her up some flowers on the way to soften her up a little. Although, I’m not sure if she even likes flowers. I should know that. That’s an important thing to know about the woman you’re… fucking.

  Sometimes, I have to remind myself that’s all we are—fuck buddies. We still haven’t made any changes to our arrangement...no official declarations of dating status.

  I admit I allow the lines to blur, occasionally, but only in my head.

  Once inside the store, I grab a basket and set off on a mission to find the coolest toy possible. I didn’t ask Quinn’s permission to do this. Maybe I should have, but I kind of feel like mine and Henry’s relationship is its own thing. We’ve bonded over our Sundays in the park and our love for Fergie. I also found out last week that he’s obsessed with Star Wars. When I was looking around online for something cool to buy him, I found this four-foot-tall Stormtrooper that makes all kinds of cool sounds. I thought it might be something he doesn’t have and possibly something Quinn wouldn’t buy.

  Standing in the middle of the cluttered store, I realize I don’t have the first clue where to find it. It’s been a good fifteen years since I’ve stepped foot into a toy store. I try to find a person who looks like they work here but come up empty-handed. After a few minutes pass, I decide I can’t just stand around wasting time, so I start walking—up and down every aisle—looking for something Star Wars. Surely, they keep all of that stuff together.

  On the fourth aisle, my phone buzzes again.

  room 1913

  When I check the time, I realize it’s already been fifteen minutes.

  Shit.

  Picking up the speed, I start zig-zagging the aisles again.

  Bingo!

  After scanning over half the store, I turn down one of the aisles and see the prize on the top shelf and there’s only one. Looks like it’s my lucky day.

  If I hurry, I can snag the Stormtrooper and be at the hotel room with a minute or two to spare.

  Reaching up to grab it off the shelf, my phone buzzes again and I groan, rolling my eyes at Quinn’s persistence today. I actually love that about her, but she’s really imposing on my toy shopping.

  I’m about to text her back that I’ll be there soon when a blur of activity takes place in front of me.

  A woman climbs on the bottom shelf, reaches up, and snags the Stormtrooper, placing it in her cart. Right in front of me.

  “That’s mine,” I tell her, because it is. I’m standing right in front of it and was just getting ready to take it off the shelf and put it into my own shopping cart before Quinn’s text side-tracked me.

  “Um, no. It’s in my basket, therefore, it’s mine.” The arch of her eyebrows tells me she means business, but I’m ready to fight for this. I drove all the way across town to this particular toy store because when I looked online they said it was in stock. I need this Stormtrooper. Without it, I’ll be back at square one, trying to come up with the perfect gift for Henry… and this is the perfect gift for Henry. So, I need this fucking Stormtrooper.

  “Actually,” I begin, trying to stay calm. “I was just getting ready to put it in my basket before you came around the corner and swiped it.”

  “I didn’t swipe it,” she says, annoyance thick in her voice. “It’s free game as long as it’s on the shelf.” The way she rolls her eyes, like this is information I should know, pisses me the hell off.

  “Well, it was rude of you to swoop in and grab it right out from under me.”

  “Guess you shoulda been faster,” she challenges, pushing my cart out of the way with hers and walking past me.

  I can’t let her get away.

  I need that Stormtrooper.

  It’s two days before Christmas.

  I don’t have time to keep looking.

  “Ma’am,” I call out to her retreating form, but she doesn’t turn arou
nd.

  I abandon my empty cart in the aisle and walk quickly to catch up with her.

  “Ma’am!”

  “This is harassment,” she says, whipping her blonde hair around. “Do I need to get a manager?”

  I huff, completely put out by the turn of events. “Good luck finding one of those.”

  “Go. Find. Something else. To buy.” Her eyes are wild and unhinged and I almost give up.

  Almost.

  “I need that,” I say, pointing into her basket.

  “Yeah, well, it’s the last thing I need on my kid’s Christmas list, so you’re not getting this one.”

  She continues walking up toward the checkout line and I start to panic.

  My phone buzzes again and I want to throw it across the store. Quinn really needs to chill. She has no idea what I’m dealing with here.

  I’ll be there, I text back, wanting to add a bunch of exclamation points after it to show my annoyance.

  Are you in a meeting?

  Oh, my God. What is with the questions? I don’t reply because Blondie is getting away with my Stormtrooper. As I watch her hand over her debit card, I decide I’ll let her pay out and give myself a minute to calm down and gather my wits. I can do this. If I can land big advertising accounts, I can convince a woman to give up a Stormtrooper.

  Money talks, right?

  Walking out the exit, I wait.

  When she walks out a few minutes later, I approach with my hands raised in surrender, trying to make her feel comfortable. The last thing I need is for her to call the cops or something.

  “So, your kid really wants that Stormtrooper, huh?” I begin, still trying to think of the right thing to say.

  She groans in frustration and rolls her eyes as she pushes her cart past me and toward her car.

  “I get it. I mean, I don’t have kids or anything, but—”

  “Are you kidding me?” she says, turning around. “Are you one of those weird fanboys or something?”

  I frown, not knowing what she’s talking about, but then I realize she thinks I want it for myself. “No,” I say, running my hand through my hair and deciding on the straight forward approach. “My uh… girlfriend’s little boy… I’m buying it for him. This is the first time I’ve bought him a gift and I want it to be something cool… something he’ll remember.” Quinn would probably kill me for calling her my girlfriend, but I can’t call her my fuck buddy in front of a stranger, besides that wouldn’t convey my feelings for Henry.