by Reese Ryan
He picked up the phone.
Quinn.
He obviously wasn’t the only one up early this morning.
Can we go over the presentation before we meet with JRS?
He typed in his response: At the pool. About to swim laps. Meet you at the buffet for breakfast at eight?
Three little dots appeared, signaling that she was typing her response: Eight is perfect. Meet you there.
Max slid his phone beneath his T-shirt, put on his waterproof audio player and turned on his old-school hip-hop playlist. He stepped off the deck, plunging into the cool water. Kicking off the tiled wall, he went directly into swimming laps.
Hopefully, an hour of swimming would silence the disquieting chatter in his head and prepare him to spend the next ten hours with Quinn—pretending he didn’t want more than just a business relationship with her.
* * *
Quinn walked out of the coffee shop on the first floor of the hotel after ending her call with the rep from JRS. He’d rescheduled their appointment. She immediately dialed Max’s cell.
No answer.
Not surprising, given that he’d texted her to say he was at the pool swimming laps. The phone rang several times, then rolled over to voice mail. Quinn was about to leave a message when a sign indicating the direction of the pool caught her eye.
She ended the call without leaving a message.
She’d once heard Parker say he didn’t believe in coincidences. Maybe he was onto something.
If she left Max a voice mail, he might not get it for another hour. Someone else might have booked the JRS rep’s remaining time slots by then. And if they missed their opportunity today, they might not get another.
It had sounded like the rep was hungover and too tired to make their early meeting. The man was evidently a partier. They needed to pin him down before he was either booked or too buzzed for a productive meeting.
JRS was the big fish she’d come here to bag. It was an account King’s Finest Distillery didn’t already have, and it would be a real coup for her and Max if they could get their new brandy and KFD’s other products into the long list of JRS-managed restaurants.
Rather than heading toward the bank of elevators and returning to her room, Quinn followed the signs that directed her to the pool where Max was swimming laps.
She was going to the pool because it would be quicker if she simply strolled down there and nailed down a time with Max. It definitely wasn’t because she was hoping to see him emerging from the pool half-dressed.
God, what if he’s wearing a Speedo?
She would never be able to unsee that.
Quinn followed the signs to a bank of elevators that provided access to the pool and workout room. Hopefully, Max’s text about going swimming hadn’t been cryptic code for I hooked up with some chick at the bar last night and I’m busy.
A knot tightened in her stomach. It pained her to think of Max with someone else. But what right did she have to be jealous?
Quinn shook the thought from her head as she exited the elevator and made her way toward the wall of windows, cloudy with condensation.
She used her key card to enter the pool area. Only a few people were there. A hotel employee who was restocking towels greeted her warmly. There were two lap swimmers; one of them was Max.
Perfect.
Now she wouldn’t have to traipse all over the hotel hunting him down in five-inch heels. She’d worn her open-toe Jimmy Choo platform sandals again today partly because they complemented her tan-and-black blazer and black knee-length skirt so well. Partly because Max hadn’t been able to take his eyes off them yesterday.
Quinn stood motionless and watched him swim freestyle from her vantage point on the pool deck. She would’ve been content to sit there with a peachtini and watch him for hours. However, she needed to focus on her reason for coming here, and it wasn’t to gawk at Max Abbott.
She walked over to the shallow end and waved to get his attention.
“Quinn?” Max didn’t look happy about her intrusion as he tugged the red-and-black waterproof headphones from his ears.
He stood, rising above the shallow water that came up to his hips, and wiped the water from his eyes. Her gaze was drawn to the tattoos on his muscular chest.
Those were new. He hadn’t had any ink on his brown skin that summer. She remembered their conversation about it like it was yesterday.
They’d been lying on an old blanket in the middle of a field, staring up at the stars that dotted the darkened sky.
She’d sat up suddenly and turned to him. “When I’m in a serious relationship and I know he’s the one... I want to get matching tattoos. Maybe instead of rings.” She’d only been half-joking.
At the time they’d kissed, had even made out a little, but they hadn’t slept together or committed to each other in any way.
Max had chuckled, turned over on his side and traced a finger up her thigh, exposed by her tiny frayed jean shorts. “What tattoo would you get?”
Quinn had thought for a moment, then the perfect idea popped in her head. “I’d get a few lines from one of my favorite poems in a really pretty font.”
“Wouldn’t it be more significant if the poem was meaningful to the other person?” he’d asked.
She remembered so clearly how something about his answer had warmed her chest. In that moment, she’d truly believed Max Abbott was the one. That they’d forever be friends and eventually lovers.
She’d been wrong.
At eighteen, Quinn had been a dreamy teenager with a ridiculous crush while Max had been a man, three years her senior. Only a year away from joining his family’s company.
“Quinn, what are you doing here?” Max’s question brought her back to the present with all the ease of falling off a soft, dreamy cloud and crashing to the hard, dry earth.
Well, it’s good to see you, too, Boo.
Max’s chilly reception was a punch to the gut after she’d gotten lost in such a sweet memory. Quinn forced a smile, as if she was completely unfazed by his sour expression and brusque response.
“Martin, the JRS rep, canceled our scheduled meeting this morning. I’m pretty sure he was hungover from last night.”
“Okay?” Max folded his arms over his chest, accentuating his toned pecs and triceps. The move prompted her to peer more closely at the tattoo on the left side of his chest that he seemed to be intent on shielding from her.
“We need to reschedule the meeting, hopefully for later today. Marty gave us a few options. I wanted to see which time works best for you so I can get back to him as soon as possible, before someone else books our spot.” She spoke quickly, the words tripping from her tongue so she could quickly let him return to his moment of peace. Still she couldn’t take her eyes off the black ink etched into his brown skin.
Her eyes widened suddenly, and she sucked in a quiet breath. A chill ran the length of her spine. Quinn pressed her fingertips to her lips, her hand trembling.
She didn’t consider herself vain or self-absorbed. And maybe she was making a self-aggrandizing assumption, but...
“Whatever time you pick is fine,” he said gruffly. “Just tell me when and where.”
“Let’s take the one-o’clock spot. We can treat him to a pricey lunch before the show officially kicks off at three,” she said absently. “Can I ask you something, Max?”
“Sure.” There was apprehension in his voice, as if he anticipated her question. “Give me a sec.”
Max climbed out of the pool, then asked the attendant for a couple of towels. He dried himself off before draping the towels over his shoulders. But she’d already seen the tattoos.
The letters QB were tattooed over his heart. Beneath that were a few lines of a poem she’d been obsessed with that summer: Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.”
<
br /> The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
The lines of poetry were bordered by a rendering of woods in black ink.
“Is that...” She pointed at the tattoos. “Did you—”
“Yes.” His voice was low.
There was only the sound of little splashes of water as the other swimmer continued his laps. Quinn stared up at Max, waiting for further explanation.
He offered none.
She pressed her fingers to her mouth, ruining her carefully applied lip gloss.
“How long have you had these?” she finally asked.
“Since a few months after we broke up.”
Her gaze snapped up to his. She scowled.
“We didn’t break up. You dumped me.” She pointed at each of them in turn, underscoring her words. “With no real explanation, no discussion. So I’m having a really hard time understanding—”
“Maybe we should talk over there.” Max turned and walked toward the lounge chairs at the far end of the pool.
Quinn followed him and stood with one hip cocked and her arms folded. “Why?” she asked impatiently. “Why would you have my initials and a quote from my favorite poem carved into your body after you dumped me? Who does that?” Her voice was unsteady and louder than she’d intended.
“I can only imagine all of the things that must be going through your head right now.” He pulled on a white King’s Finest T-shirt. “We can talk about this as much as you’d like but preferably not here.” He glanced in the direction of the man in the pool and the attendant. Both seemed to be paying close attention to them now.
Quinn lowered her voice but ignored his request to take the conversation elsewhere. “I just need to know why you’d do this after it was over. In all these years, you never once tried to contact me.”
“That isn’t true.” There was a pained expression on his face. He sighed and shook his head. “Not that it matters now.”
“Of course, it matters. At least, it matters to me. So tell me... When was it that you reached out to me? Because I haven’t received so much as a text message from you.”
“That’s because you changed your phone number.” He folded his arms. “Couldn’t have been more than a month afterward.”
Quinn stood frozen, her heart beating harder.
She’d gotten a new phone a few weeks after Max had broken up with her. She’d decided to remove any temptation to call him and any anxiety about whether or not he’d call her. So she’d requested a new number and made a point of not transferring Max’s contact info to her new phone.
But he would only know how quickly she’d changed her number if he’d tried to call her not long afterward.
“Our grandfathers have been best buddies since before either of us was born.” She folded her arms defiantly, proud of her comeback. “If you’d really wanted to contact me, you would’ve found a way to do it.”
“We managed to keep our relationship under the radar that summer,” he said. “But how long do you think that would’ve lasted if I’d rung up your grandparents and asked for your new phone number?” Max raked his fingers through his damp hair and sighed. “You didn’t want anyone to know about us, and I agreed. The last thing I was going to do was tip off your shotgun-toting grandfather that I’d spent the summer eating at his dinner table and secretly banging his granddaughter.”
Now Quinn glanced around to see if anyone else could hear their conversation.
“You knew where I went to school. You could’ve written to me there.”
“Do you really not know?” Max narrowed his gaze and stepped in closer.
“Do I really not know what? That my ex tagged his chest with my initials and favorite poem after he decided he wasn’t that into me after all?”
“I never said I wasn’t into you. If anything, I was too into you and it scared the shit out of me.” He huffed. “I loved you, Quinn. But it felt like too much too soon. We were so young.” Max rubbed the scruff on his chin. “I panicked and backed away. Within a month I realized I’d made a huge mistake. I tried to call you, but you’d changed your number. I couldn’t go to your grandfather without breaking my promise to you. So I decided to go see you in person. I realized how royally I’d fucked up. I needed some grand gesture to prove to you how much I loved you and wanted you back.”
He sighed heavily, as if reluctant to continue.
“I remembered what you said about the tattoos. That it was what you’d do once you were sure you’d found the person you wanted to be with for the rest of your life. So that’s what I did. Then I hopped into my truck and drove all the way from my campus in Florida to yours in Virginia.”
“Then why didn’t I see you?” Quinn asked.
“I went to your dorm room and your roommate answered.”
“My roommate?” She poked a thumb to her chest. “You must’ve gone to the wrong room. If you’d come to our dorm room, my roommate—”
“Nora... Natalie...” He frowned, trying to recall the name.
“Naomi.” Quinn’s heart plummeted to her stomach, then thumped so loudly that the sound filled her ears. Her chest felt heavy, like a tombstone lay on it.
The one she was going to erect after she murdered her college roommate.
“Naomi, right.” Max snapped his fingers. “That was her name. Strawberry blonde with grayish blue eyes, about yay high.” He leveled his hand just below the earphones hanging around his neck.
Quinn felt dizzy. Her head throbbed and her mouth was dry. “You met Naomi?”
“Fierce little thing.” He chuckled bitterly. “Part pretty little coed, part pit bull, and a thousand percent protective of you.”
Quinn couldn’t have described Naomi better herself.
“She obviously knew exactly who I was and that you never wanted to see or hear from me again. Naomi hated my guts and she had no qualms about telling me exactly what she thought of me.”
Max had definitely met her friend. She could only imagine how the encounter had gone. Quinn understood why Naomi would’ve hated Max. But why hadn’t her friend told her that Max had driven up from Florida to see her?
“What did Naomi say?”
“I believe her exact words were, ‘Fuck off, you fucking fucker, and leave my friend alone. She’s finally happy again now and the last thing she needs is for you to pop ’round and fuck with her head, again.’” He said the words in a feigned British accent reminiscent of her friend’s.
Naomi always did enjoy a good f-bomb.
“You’d gone to all the trouble of getting my initials tattooed on your skin and you let a five-foot-three-inch sprite run you off.” Quinn folded her arms and tipped her chin defiantly.
“No.” He sounded incredibly sad. “I told her I needed to hear it from you. That if you told me you didn’t want to see me again, I’d walk away and never bother you again.”
“And?”
He gathered his things from the lounge chair and shoved his cell phone into the pocket of his swim trunks. Then he turned to her and sighed.
“Naomi said you were out doing some other guy, and that she didn’t expect that you’d be back anytime soon.”
“And you believed her?”
Quinn hadn’t dated anyone seriously for more than a year and a half after Max. But Quinn could easily imagine her roommate telling him such a lie to bruise his ego. Her overprotective friend would’ve tried to cut Max deep with her words after spending the previous two months nursing Quinn’s broken heart and trying to cheer her up.
At the end of the two months, Quinn had promised herself and her friend that she wouldn’t waste another moment of her life mooning over Max Abbott. That she never wanted to hear from or see Max again.
; Naomi, evidently, hadn’t trusted that Quinn would stick to her resolution when presented with the chance to see Max again. Instead, she’d made the decision for her. Quinn and Naomi had remained best friends, though Quinn had gotten a job in Atlanta and Naomi was now a married mother of two running her own kiddie clothing business in California. In all the years since college, her friend had never once revealed that Max had come to campus to see her.
“No, I didn’t believe her.” Max rubbed the back of his neck. “I hung around, parked outside of your dorm. If you didn’t want to see me again, I would’ve respected that. But I wanted to hear it from you.”
“So why didn’t you ask me?”
“I saw the guy bring you home, and I saw him kiss you. I realized Naomi was right. You’d moved on, and you deserved better.” Max’s mouth twisted and deep wrinkles spanned his forehead.
Quinn thought back to that time in her life. She hadn’t been seeing anyone. Maybe Max had mistaken someone else for her. She was about to tell him as much when she remembered the one guy who had kissed her around that time—Naomi’s cousin, Rick. The guy her roommate had tried desperately to hook her up with. That explained why Naomi hadn’t told her about Max’s visit.
She didn’t owe Max an explanation, but she had some choice words for her friend.
“Getting those tattoos before you knew if we’d get back together... That was—”
“Dumb?” he volunteered.
“I was going to say risky as hell,” Quinn said. “You had no idea how I’d react or if I had, in fact, moved on.”
“I realized what a gamble my grand gesture was.” He patted his chest where her initials were carved into his skin. “That there was a good chance you still wouldn’t forgive me. But I needed to show you how much you meant to me. And even if we never got back together, I guess I wanted to hold on to you in some small way.” He rubbed at the tattoo through his shirt.
Quinn frowned, tears burning her eyes. She turned away from Max, abruptly changing the subject. “I should go make sure everything is ready.”