Well played, Quinn Hayes. Fucking well played.
Ten
Quinn
Soul-ripping sobs spill out of me. It’s a messy flood of emotion I can’t stop. I’m not sure what triggers it. It could be his tenderness, the concern he shows to me, a stranger. I should be sharing this moonlit night with Scott, not this man next to me. Now, I’m crying in front of a stranger.
I’m a pathetic mess.
The soft breeze brings the salty tang of the ocean to my tongue. Or maybe it’s from my tears?
The wind is supposed to be refreshing. Instead, I find it terribly suffocating. I’m in paradise, yet my world feels as if it’s ended.
How am I going to make it through these next few days? How do I show my face at work? I checked my phone, expecting missed calls and a string of apologies from both Scott and Sadie, but there’s nothing. I should’ve gone home instead of running away to a place I don’t belong.
My heart is only now catching up with the loss of both my boyfriend and best friend. What they did was sick and twisted. It’s unforgivable, and yet I want to rewind time to before I knew. I’d rather be an oblivious idiot than this tangled mess of emotion.
Whoever said ignorance was bliss is definitely onto something. I don’t care what people say, the truth hurts.
“Whoa, are you okay?” A presence shifts beside me. It’s him. My sexy stranger; a man who’s only seen me at my worst. I’m surprised he’s not running for the hills. If he has any sense of self-preservation, he will run and place as much distance between us as possible.
I wipe the tears from my face, embarrassed I broke down in front of him yet again, and struggle to compose myself. In this, I fail miserably.
“I’m sorry.” My tears fall in fat drops with a mind all their own. They spill down my cheeks and make me sniffle. I must look a mess.
Waves lap at my feet, pulling the sand out from beneath my heels. My feet slowly sink in and I wish I could do the same. If I disappear, will anyone care?
Scott was my everything. Sadie my best friend. I lost the two people closest to me in one fell swoop. An aching emptiness squeezes my heart and I thump my chest with the palm of my hand. It hurts so damn much.
“Is there anything I can do?” He takes half a step toward me, hand lifted as if to soothe me.
I turn away. I don’t need some stranger’s comfort. I’ll get through this myself. He pauses and thrusts his hands deep into his pockets. I wrap my arms around myself and hold tight.
A hug.
I need a hug, a shoulder to cry on, and someone to tell me I’m worthy of love.
As for my dark and mysterious stranger, I don’t want him seeing my tear-streaked cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. I’m bleeding messy emotions all over the place and I’m not comfortable exposing that weakness.
Thankfully, it’s dark. Maybe I can hide some of my embarrassment in the darkness.
“You must think I’m a complete mess.” I sniffle and resist the urge to wipe my nose.
He cocks his head. “Do you think you’re a complete mess?”
“I freak out on the plane. Pass out on booze and cold medicine. Force you to take care of me. And now I break down in front of you. I think that qualifies as a ‘certified mess.’” I use air quotes to emphasize my point.
“For the record, you didn’t force me to take care of you. You looked like someone who needed help. I’m happy I was able to be there for you.” His words roll outward in a soothing rumble. He’s blessed with one of those deep, masculine voices. The kind filled with strength and confidence. I bet nothing unnerves this man.
“Well, thank you.” In stark contrast, my voice comes out breathy and weak. It’s so soft it flutters in the wind, nearly disappearing before being heard. He leans toward me, cocking his head to catch what I say.
“You look like you need to regroup.”
That’s not what I need. Revenge is what I need, something to show Scott he messed with the wrong woman.
What was Scott’s game? Propose? Marry me? And fuck Sadie on the side? How long has it been going on? And why didn’t I know?
People aren’t my thing, but am I really that blind?
The answer to that is painfully clear. It’s a resounding Yes, you’re a flippin’ idiot! I swallow a sob.
“I’m sorry if I ruined your evening.” My attention shifts to my stranger. I bet he’s the kind who really does care, is a good listener, and doesn’t cheat on his girlfriends. He looks like a man who would take care of his woman. I wish I had that.
It doesn’t hurt that he’s insanely attractive. I catch myself staring for a beat too long, but I can’t help myself. The hard angle of his jaw speaks of strength. The warm glow of his eyes radiates concern, tenderness, empathy, and hints at unrestrained passion. I bet he fucks the way Ted fucked Shirley at the party: unrestrained, raw, passionate, one-hundred percent male, driven by base desire.
I’ve never experienced that all-consuming lust which drags me down to my most base desires. I think too much. But, I bet the man standing before me has. I bet he fucks like an animal and doesn’t apologize for it afterward.
His broad shoulders and expansive chest make me think of a shield. He’s the kind of man who would place himself in danger to protect those he loves. The way he stands, feet planted squarely beneath him, brings to mind images of a man who isn’t afraid to take charge.
Honestly, I’m projecting a lot on a man I barely know. Although…
I allow my gaze to wander, taking in his attributes one by one. He lent me his strength during takeoff, allowing me to hold his hand. He cautioned me against mixing alcohol and cold medicines, scolding me while looking out for my best interests. While I didn’t listen to him, he doesn’t seem to hold it against me. When I needed help at the end, he stood up and took control of the situation my bad decision created.
He’s the kind of man who doesn’t exist in nature, an amalgamation of all things every woman wants.
Which makes me suspicious.
What’s he hiding?
What am I missing? My people skills need serious improvement.
“Thank you again for helping me. It means a lot to me.” He’s shown more kindness than Scott ever did. I turn to leave.
“Don’t go.” The words sound sincere, although I don’t understand why he wants to spend another minute in my presence.
“I’ve bothered you enough.” My steps falter and my brows draw together.
“It really isn’t a bother.” His magnetic smile unnerves me. It’s too genuine and I’m suspicious about pretty much everything right now. If I can’t trust myself, how will I ever trust another person ever again? What does this guy—this man—want from me?
Now I don’t know whether to stay or go. This is exactly the kind of shit I’m not good at. What are the expectations? What’s the next appropriate step?
Hell, if I know.
“It looks like you’ve had a rough day.” His head tilts to the side. “Maybe more than one rough day. How about we chill out, enjoy the sound of the waves crashing against the sand, and take a moonlit stroll down the most romantic beach in the world?”
“We?”
He spins in a circle. “Unless you see anyone else around.” The deep, throaty sound of his laughter affects me on a gut level. It does weird things, twisting everything up inside and making me want things I can’t have. I feel giddy and a tingle of anticipation tickles along my nerves. It would be too easy to fall into that trap, and I do think it’s a trap. No way is he interested in me in that way.
He’s attractive and looks at me with interest. It’s uncomfortable, but exciting as well. Not that I’m going to hop into bed with him.
Why does that cross my mind?
Did I really just think about crawling between the sheets with him?
Yes, you did!
First of all, I seriously doubt he’s interested. All I’ve done is show him exactly how much of a train wreck my life is right now. No sane man would wade i
nto those waters. Second, I’m not the kind of person who bounces from a proposal by one man into the bed of another. The very thought makes me sick to my stomach.
But you want to.
Shut up. I don’t need a conversation with my inner self.
“Yeah, I guess it’s just you and me.” I laugh it off, but my laughter comes out a little forced.
“That’s right.” He nods as if we’ve settled something. “Two single people on a beach, going for a stroll.”
“In the moonlight?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Sounds more like a place for a couple looking for romance. They should be here, not us.”
“Well, they are not here, which means you’re stuck with me.” From the look he gives me, there’s more than a little interest in changing our status from strangers to something more. He glances at the full moon. “Unless you have a better idea where we should be?”
I take a long, hard look at him. If he thinks he’s getting lucky, he’s going to be sorely disappointed.
“Um…” I stammer a bit. “I’m not really looking for that kind of thing.”
“What kind of thing?” His comment takes me aback and his lips turn up at the corners. He’s waiting for my reaction, like this is a test or something.
Whatever I said amuses him. For some reason, that crooked smile makes him look insanely sexy. He shifts a little, looking out onto the ocean. The light of the moon hits his eyes just right, making them shimmer like burnished gold.
“Um, you know—things.”
“Do I?” His smile widens and spreads to his eyes. “As for things, are you talking about walking down the beach? Or something else?” His gaze drops to my hand.
As if all you want to do is hold my hand.
“You have the most unusual eyes.” Needing a quick change in the topic of our conversation, the comment slips out. I’m not really sure where it came from.
“Do I?” He’s having fun with me now, repeating himself. “I might say the same for you. Magnificent comes to mind.”
I ignore his comment. Like most things, I don’t handle compliments well.
“Your eyes are golden, or burnished copper. Honestly, I’ve never seen eyes like that before.”
“Hmm, and yours are a stunning emerald. Did you know they change color?”
Every time he looks at me, it’s with this odd intensity, like he’s trying to figure me out. More unnerving, he holds his stare beyond what I’m comfortable with. I’m the first to break eye contact.
“They do?”
“They most certainly do.” He glances down at his feet and wiggles his toes in the sand. “They’re dark when you think too hard. Light and stormy when you’re scared. They shimmer when you’re frustrated. Impossibly gorgeous when you reveal your vulnerabilities. And they remind me of a forest when you relax.”
He notices my eyes?
“Um—I doubt you’ve ever seen me relaxed.”
“You’re right, but I’m looking forward to it.” His soft laughter cuts me off and an unusual silence settles between us.
It’s the kind of silence that should be awkward between strangers but isn’t. It floats on the wind as if perfectly content to shift between us. My attention returns to the surf and the inky black of the water beyond.
“What’s your name?” I turn to him. “Did you already tell me? If so, I don’t remember. I’m pretty horrible with names.”
“Hawke.” He thrusts out his hand. “Hawke Sterling, at your service.”
Deviant thoughts fill my head with all the ways I’d like to be serviced. Sadie would jump on that. I back away.
Eleven
Quinn
“I’m Q.” When our hands connect, a jolt of electricity shoots up my arm. I’d pull my hand back, but he doesn’t let go. Instead of releasing me, like a normal person, he shifts our grip until our palms touch, our fingers lengthen, and then curl as they thread together. The entire time, his eyes lock with mine.
It’s a handshake. Kind of. So why is it one of the most erotic things I’ve ever experienced? All we’re doing is holding hands.
Holding.
Not shaking.
“You’re far too pretty for anyone to call you Q. It’s a harsh nickname for a beautiful woman, too masculine. A man could lose himself in you.”
His gaze takes me in from head to toe and back again. He’s obvious about it, taking his time to meander the length of my body, while letting me know that’s exactly what he’s doing. He doesn’t linger too long on my breasts or the apex of my thighs, like most men would. It’s almost as if everything about me fascinates him and he can’t get enough. The entire time, our fingers remain woven together. The pads of his fingers press against my knuckles, and he presses lightly in a soothing, hypnotic rhythm.
I shift my stance and lift my feet out of the hole the waves dig beneath my heels.
Beneath his examination, my shoulders lift toward my ears. I’m torn between feeling uncomfortable and entranced. With effort, I force my shoulders to relax.
“My dad didn’t want a frilly girl’s name, and I was supposed to be a boy—the fifth boy in the family.”
“Fifth?” His eyes widen. “You have four older brothers.”
“I have four overly protective older brothers. Anyhow, my dad picked Quinn. He said it would work for a girl or a boy. I kind of got stuck with it. Once I got to high school, I was well into nerd-ville as a computer geek and since I was a Trekkie…”
His eyes widen. “You’re nicknamed after a super-race who exists in the continuum of the limitless dimensions of the galaxy; Q from Star Trek?”
“Yeah…” I breathe out slowly, surprised he’s that familiar with the character. “I’ve always hated it. It makes me even more self-conscious about…”
“Being smart?”
“Yeah. Girls aren’t supposed to be smart, and they’re most definitely not supposed to be smarter than the boys they want to date.”
“Why don’t you correct people?” He appears unfazed by my comment about being smarter than other boys. Does nothing rock this man? “Smart chicks are beyond hot. They’re mesmerizing.”
I’m not sure what to make of that comment. Is he talking about me, or smart chicks in the more general sense?
“Have you ever had a nickname?” I can’t imagine how someone would shorten Hawke. It’s such an unusual name. It makes me think of an established dynasty, like a family name passed down through the generations. “It’s impossible to get people to stop using it. They think it’s funny and the more I fought it the more it stuck. I’m used to it now.”
“You’re far too beautiful for your name to be whittled down to a single letter, especially the harshest letter in the English alphabet. I prefer Quinn. It’s crisp, elegant, and unexpected. It’s a perfect fit for an amazingly beautiful woman. You’re stunning.” He leans toward me and lowers his voice. We’re still holding hands. “To be honest, I’ve known several Quinn’s in my life, none of them were girls. I can honestly say, I never wanted to kiss any of them the way I want to kiss you.”
Molten hot, the heat in his eyes warms me up from the inside out. Then it hits.
Kiss me?
Whoa, we jumped way out of my comfort zone. I do what I do best and deflect.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if we could pick our own names?” I free my hand with an awkward twist and rub it against my leg.
“Pick our names? How would that work?” He appears unfazed by my sudden retreat.
“You know, like a rite of passage when you hit say—twelve or thirteen?” I snap my fingers. “Or at the end of sixth grade, when you’re no longer an elementary school kid. Instead of a sixth-grade graduation, we could have a naming ceremony instead.”
“That’s—unusual.” His head tilts to the side and the corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement. “You’re not what I expect, Miss Quinn Hayes. Maybe Q is for quirky instead of smart?”
I bite my lower lip. Chances are one hundred percent, my freaky comments abou
t naming ceremonies make him rethink wanting to kiss me.
“I get that a lot.” I rush my words. “Anyway, it was nice seeing you, and thanks again.” I rock back on my heels, fully expecting him to take advantage of the out I provide.
“Hold up a second. We’re far from done. You intrigue me, Miss Quinn, like a puzzle I can’t quite figure out. I’m nowhere near letting you go.”
“A puzzle?” Letting go? Holy hotness, what did he just say? Did I imagine that?
“Well, a woman traveling alone is no big thing. I hope you’ll forgive me, but I had to look through your backpack to figure out what to do with you. When I saw you had a reservation at this resort, I figured you were meeting up with someone. At the registration desk, they said the other person canceled. Which brings up all kinds of questions—fascinating questions.”
Well shit, he’s not taking the bait and running. As for his questions, he’s going to be disappointed.
“It’s a story as old as time.” I’m pretty sure I mentioned this to him, but honestly, my memory is foggy. From the beginning of the flight to when I woke up in an unfamiliar bed, my memory is littered with holes. “Boy meets girl. Girl falls in love. Boy proposes. Boy cheats on her, and… Well, here I am.”
“So you brought your broken heart to Euphoria?” He scratches his head. “That creates more questions.”
“It may not have been my brightest idea.” I agree with him. In fact, the longer I’m at Euphoria, I’m sure this is a disaster in progress. “At the time, all I could think about was sticking it to him. You know, using it to get back at him? I figured since he already paid for everything, I would come. I’d have the best time of my life without him. In hindsight, it isn’t working out the way I planned, and I kind of feel a little guilty about it.”
“Why do you feel guilty?”
I spin toward the resort and place my back to the waves. “It’s stealing. Now, I’ll have to pay him back and I’m not sure I can do that.” My shoulders slump in defeat. I really didn’t think this through. Now, I’ll be tied to Scott by a debt as well as the company we run together.
Hawke: Christmas in Paradise (Billionaire Boys Club) Page 8