Understanding dawned on Lawson’s face, and the frown turned into a smirk as he trotted down the four steps that I’d just fallen down. “Why are you so clumsy?”
“Why are you such a jerk?” I shot back, grabbing his outstretched hand and carefully letting him pull me to stand on the foot that wasn’t throbbing like it was the only part of me at a rave. “I don’t want to go back inside. Just help me to my car.”
Piper’s blonde hair shook wildly. “Not a chance you’re driving yourself anywhere with that ankle.” She held up a hand when I began to object. “I’ll drive you home and call Hampton to meet us there. He can look at your ankle. I’m pretty sure it’s just sprained, but I know you; you’ll pretend it’s fine, and before we know it, it’s worse and we have to amputate.”
I looked at her horrified. “How the hell did we go from a sprain to amputation?”
“Lawson,” she said over her shoulder, ignoring me, “can you grab my purse and keys?”
“No, Pip, really. I’m fine.” I made a show of putting my foot on the ground. “See?” I said as I stupidly applied pressure. The lightning bolt of pain shot from my ankle to my head, and for a second, I felt like I might pass out.
“Yep,” Piper deadpanned. “That shade of green on your face definitely says fine to me. Come on.” She wrapped an arm around my waist, and even though I didn’t want to admit that I couldn’t walk on my own, I leaned into her for support. Together, we slowly hobbled to her car, and as I slid inside, I moaned.
“Grab my phone!” I shouted through the closed door. Piper saluted me and then turned to pick up my purse, shoving everything that had flown out during my tumble inside.
I sighed. Between work tomorrow and the prospect of a date with Quinn this weekend, I didn’t have time for this.
3
Georgia
“Yep. Definitely sprained,” Hampton announced, clapping his hands together and pushing to his feet.
“Why do you sound so excited?” I muttered.
When we’d gotten back to my house, Hampton was there waiting on us. It was a good thing that Piper was so damn stubborn and had insisted on it, because all it had taken was the short ten-minute drive for my leg to go from painful to damn near excruciating. There was no way I would have been able to drive myself, and if we were being honest, I didn’t know how the hell I would have managed to get inside.
“You’re going to have to reschedule your presentation tomorrow,” Piper said as she propped my foot on a mountain of pillows.
“Not a chance! I’ve been working on that bid for months. I can’t miss it,” I argued.
“Yeah, well, unless you can do it here, you’re not going to be able to go anywhere for a few days.”
I looked to where Hampton was standing. “You said it was just a sprain! It’s not like my leg fell off!”
“It’s your right foot, Georgie. You can’t put any pressure on it. How are you going to press the pedals?” I hated it when my brothers were right.
“Fine. One of you can drive me.”
Piper and Hampton both shook their heads. “Sorry, sis, I’m in surgery all day tomorrow.”
“Pip?”
“My schedule is packed. We’ve seen more cases of strep and mono this month than I’ve seen in years. I can’t reschedule my patients.” Piper at least had the decency to look apologetic.
“Well, shit,” I grumbled. “I’ll take an Uber, then.”
There was no way that I was missing tomorrow’s meeting.
I’d spent months designing and researching the golf course that was being renovated in our state. The board was ready to drop millions on the revamping of one of the oldest clubs in the country, and when I’d been selected by my firm to draw up the proposal, I’d cried.
Growing up, I had always held a special place in my heart for plants. I’d loved being outside, working in Mom’s garden, helping her decide what flowers to plant each season. I’d wanted to own my own florist shop as a kid, but the older I got, the sadder it was to me that the flowers that were so painstakingly grown would just die at the end of whatever event they’d been used in.
I wanted to watch the little seedling that I put in the ground grow, year after year. I’d wanted to mark the passing of time with the change in the leaves and not with the death of the flowers.
So, I’d found a landscape architecture degree program at Clemson University. It was only a three-hour drive from our family home outside of Atlanta, and once I’d visited the campus as a senior in high school, there was no changing my mind.
Now, eight years after I graduated top of my class, I was finally on the verge of breaking into the big leagues. The firm I worked for had been busting ass to land a big account, and this job would put us in the history books.
There wasn’t a chance on earth that I was letting anything stop me.
“Well, I’d insist that taking an Uber isn’t the best plan, but I literally have no other ideas,” Piper murmured.
I waved my hand in her direction. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”
Hampton plunked a kiss on the top of my head. “I’ve gotta go. Want me to carry you to your bedroom?”
I shook my head. “No, I’ll be fine here. If you and Piper will just leave my phone and water on the table, I’ll take it from there.”
They exchanged worried glances. “I mean it. I’m fine!”
“Okay, well, call me if you need anything,” Piper said, handing my phone to me.
The two of them wished me good-night, reminding me again to stay off my foot as much as possible and then let themselves out.
I let out a sigh and then pulled up the message from Quinn that had started this whole mess in the first place.
Me: Did you know that the average person will break or fracture two bones in their lifetime?
While I waited for him to respond, I pulled up my emails to find the address of the meeting for tomorrow.
Quinn: I did not know that. Does this average include athletes? Because, if so, then I’m above average.
I smiled.
Me: I have no idea. But I too am above average. And not because I’m athletic. Mainly because I’m clumsy as shit.
It didn’t help that along with being clumsy, I’d always been determined to keep up with my brothers as a child. I’d managed to break one arm twice and the other one once growing up. Now that I thought about it, maybe that was what had prompted Hampton to become an orthopedic surgeon.
Quinn: Did you break something?
Me: No, not exactly. But our tour of the town is going to have to wait.
Quinn: ?
I typed out a quick recap of what had happened after his message, making sure to omit the fact that it was my excitement over his text that had caused me to trip.
My phone rang in my hand, and Quinn’s name flashed across the screen.
“I thought I told you I hated talking on the phone,” I said in greeting.
A deep chuckle came through the speaker as he said, “Well, you did. But I happen to like hearing your voice.”
The deep timbre of his voice washed over me, and I decided then and there that maybe I didn’t hate talking on the phone as much as I thought I did. At least not when it was Quinn on the other end.
“You’ve made a terrible mistake admitting that. You’ll never get me to shut up now.”
“I’m okay with that,” he murmured.
I sighed and let my head fall back on the arm of the couch. Maybe I would be quiet if it meant I got to listen to him talk all night.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Yep. A sprained ankle is probably the mildest injury I’ve ever had. It just comes at the worst time.”
“Well, I was only kidding about needing a tour of the town. Not that I’d turn it down, but there’s nothing that Siri can’t tell me.”
“Yeah, I know. But I was really looking forward to showing you all my favorite bars and hangouts. But that’s not all. I’ve got this huge thing tomorrow, a
nd I’m going to have to call an Uber to get me there.”
“Oh, yeah? What kind of huge thing?”
“It’s a work thing. I’ve been designing and planning for months, the long days all leading up to tomorrow’s presentation. There’s no way I can reschedule it; I’ll lose the account, and probably my job.” I switched ears and scrubbed a hand over my face. “Ugh. I can’t wait to ask my driver to load up my laptop and drawings for me.”
“I’ll drive you,” Quinn said simply, interrupting the scene I was envisioning with some faceless stranger bending the portfolio I’d spent countless hours on.
“What?”
“I don’t have practice tomorrow. I’ll drive you. Text me your address and the time, and I’ll be there.”
“No, you don’t have to do that. It’s really nice of you to offer, but I’ll be fine.”
“Well, I’m a nice guy. And I’m not really offering so much as telling you. Send me the details, and I’ll play chauffeur.”
“Oh, you’re telling me, huh?” I bristled at the thought of being told what to do, but then he chuckled and any bit of fire I had felt fizzled out.
“Okay, maybe I am offering. But I’m telling you that I would really like for you to take me up on my offer. You can point out some places on the way, and it’ll be killing two birds with one stone.”
“Oh, so now the tour I was supposed to give you this weekend is a bird that needs to be killed?”
“Nah, I love birds. Went dove hunting one time when I was ten, and when my dad tried to shoot the first bird, I shouted so loud I’m pretty sure that birds in the neighboring county flew away. Dad was pissed as hell, but he never forced me to go hunting with him again, so that was a win in my book.”
My heart squeezed as I imagined a little sandy-haired boy yelling to save some birds. “Aw, that’s sweet.”
“What can I say? I’m a sweet guy.”
“Sweet and nice. Don’t know that I’ve ever met a guy who had those qualities,” I whispered.
“So, is that a yes? You’ll let me pick you up and drive you to your big meeting tomorrow?”
“Since you asked so nicely, yes. I’ll be happy to let you drive me in the morning. But I’m treating us to lunch after as a thank-you.”
“Not a chance.”
“Not a chance that you’re going to have lunch with me after I win the bid I’ve been killing myself over for the last six months?”
“Oh, we’re having lunch to celebrate your victory, for sure. But there’s no way in hell that it’s your treat.”
“If you want my address, Quinn Miller, then you’ll agree to let me treat.”
He chuckled again, that low amused laugh that had me wishing I was looking into his eyes instead of staring at the muted TV. “You drive a hard bargain, Georgia Reed. Send me your address. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“That wasn’t a yes.”
“You’re right, it wasn’t. Good night, sweetheart.”
The line went dead, and I just gaped at my phone.
Sweetheart.
A term of endearment that had always made my skin crawl.
That was, until Quinn Miller used it.
That man was sexy. But there was more to him than a well-manicured beard and deep Southern accent.
I smiled as I set the alarm on my phone for an hour earlier than normal and nestled down under the blanket that Piper had covered me with.
I’d been anticipating tomorrow for weeks, but now?
I was looking forward to waking up for a totally different reason.
4
Quinn
Georgia told me to be there at eight a.m., so naturally, I pulled up in front of the address she’d given me at seven thirty. I’d had injuries in football and knew that it was always worse the second day. She’d probably need me to help her get her things to my truck. At least, that was what I would tell her if she asked why I was so early. Being early had nothing to do with the fact that I’d spent the night dreaming about her, tossing and turning in anticipation of seeing her today. And it definitely wasn’t because I’d woken up at five and been unable to get the way her ass swayed out of my head and had finally given up on going back to sleep an hour later.
No, I was sitting in front of the strangest looking house I’d ever seen half an hour early because I was a nice guy here to help a newfound friend in her moment of need. That was it.
Before I pushed out of my truck, I took a minute to try and figure out what kind of house I was parked in front of. It was almost a mix between a castle and a spaceship, with two large stone columns flanking a door that was made up almost entirely of a circular window. The house had to be four times the size of the apartment Jamie and I were currently living in, and it was situated on a large piece of property with the most expertly manicured lawn I’d ever seen.
There were entire walls made of windows on each side of the columns, and I wondered how Georgia ever slept past sunrise in that house. My answer came before I had the chance to ask the question when the door opened and the woman herself poked her head out.
“Quinn?” she shouted, her brow wrinkled in confusion.
I shoved the door open and hopped out, my long legs quickly eating the space between her driveway and front door.
“Hey! Get off the grass!” Georgia shouted.
I froze in place and whipped my head up to see her grinning in my direction. When I took another step, the grin stayed in place, but she said, “No, really. That grass took me forever to grow.” She hooked her thumb to the cobblestone path that matched the columns on the house and finished, “Use the sidewalk before I end up on my hands and knees, coaxing the grass to come back.”
The image of her on her hands and knees flashed into my head before I could stop it, but I quickly shook it away as I took a giant leap to my right and landed squarely on the path that she’d indicated. “This better?”
She nodded. “Aren’t you a showoff?”
I lifted a shoulder. “You impressed?”
“Very. I’ll be even more impressed, though, when you carry all my stuff to the car.”
She peered around me and eyed my truck. “Is that yours?”
I glanced back over my shoulder at where my black Nissan Titan was parked. “I showed up in it, didn’t I?”
Her lower lip pulled between her teeth, and she tipped her head to the side as she studied me. “Yeah, but is it yours?”
I nodded. “Lynda is a she, and she would appreciate it if you didn’t call her it anymore.”
I’d come to a stop in front of her, and she pulled her gaze up to mine. “Lynda?”
“Yep. You know the song Lynda by Steve Wariner? Ole girl over there is named after that song.”
“Not only have I never heard the song, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of Steve Warner either.”
“It’s War-i-ner. And I’m not sure we can continue this conversation anymore after that statement. Didn’t you say you grew up here? Don’t you listen to country?”
“Well, just because I’m from the South doesn’t mean I’m a country bumpkin. I would rather die than listen to that stuff.”
I chuckled. “No, country bumpkins are from the mountains of West Virginia. Like me.”
Her eyes widened as her cheeks pinked. “Oh, shit,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean that you were. I just meant that I didn’t—”
I waved her off. “It’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than you claiming country music makes me a hick to offend me. Don’t worry about it.”
She let out an audible sigh. “Thank God. I’m really good at putting my foot in my mouth sometimes.”
“No worries. Really. I don’t get my feelings hurt easily. Lynda, on the other hand…” I trailed off and looked back to where my truck was parked.
Georgia peered around me and raised her voice. “Sorry, Lynda! Won’t insult you again!”
She looked back up at me and grinned pulling the door open wider. “Come on in. I’ve just gotta get my shoes
on, and then I’ll be ready to go.”
I followed her into the house, closing the door behind me. If I had been impressed with the outside of where she lived, I was damn near knocked over by the inside. It was as though a professional had designed and decorated the space. I whistled low and then said, “This is quite the place.”
“Mmhmm. It really is. Help me get my crap to the truck, and I’ll tell you all about this dump.” She pointed to where a laptop bag along with a large portfolio sat on a table near the door.
I brushed past her, my arm making contact with the exposed skin of her calf as she sat on a chair and attempted to slide her foot into a nude heel. Her fingers froze as her head popped up to where I stood rooted in spot, watching her.
“I, uh…” I cleared my throat and then glanced at her swollen ankle. “I don’t think you’re getting your foot into that shoe today. As a matter of fact, I don’t think you’ll be getting your foot into anything other than a flip-flop.”
Her eyes squeezed shut as she groaned, and I watched her perfect pink lips press together in a grimace. “I can’t wear flip-flops to this meeting. Shit!”
“Here, let me see if I can help.” I dropped into a squat in front of her and took the shoe from her hands, our fingertips brushing. Once again, something shot through me, and as though she felt it too, her hands jerked slightly.
After stretching the heel a bit, I tried to slide it onto her foot, and this time, even though the fit was snugger than it should have been, the shoe went on and she sighed in relief.
“I’ve played with my ankles taped more times than I can count. I’ve learned a few tricks on how to get a stubborn shoe on.” I smiled as I stood and held my hand out to her. “How about I help you to the truck and then come back for your stuff?”
She didn’t respond, her emerald-green eyes studying me as she took my hand and let me pull her to her feet. I knew there was no way that walking on that foot felt good, so I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her soft body into mine, shouldering as much of her weight as I could.
The Hardest Play Page 3