A horned blared, and Quentin jumped back just as the car that threatened to take him out eased to a stop at his side. The driver’s door opened, and a brunette stepped out and turned to him on the heel of her boots.
“Oh my God!” she said. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I apologize for stepping in the street, I should’ve been watching where I was going.” He offered her a languid smile. “Forgive me.”
The brunette smiled softly. “You’re forgiven.” Her smile held. “I’m Amber.”
Amber reached out to him for a handshake, and Quentin accepted it.
“I know you’ve had better days, Amber. I’m Q.”
“Well it’s not every day that I almost run over a gorgeous guy.” She blushed. “It’s a good thing you have good reflexes.”
Quentin nodded. “True that.”
Amber pulled a piece of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. “Do you mind if I buy you a cup of coffee or something? I feel bad for almost running you over.”
“That’s not necessary. It was my fault.”
With an air of boldness, Amber said, “I’d still like to buy you a cup of coffee. We’ll call it a thank you for jumping out of my way cup of coffee.”
Quentin chuckled as Amber laughed.
“Sure,” he said, “why not. There’s a coffee shop across the street.”
“I’ll just pull my car off the road,” she said, turning to reclaim her seat.
Quentin took another step back and watched as Amber pulled the old school vehicle over to park at a meter. The shine on the classic car’s exterior sparkled in the sunlight, and being a collector of conventional vehicles, Quentin found himself having an appreciation for the vintage automobile.
Amber stepped out of the car at the same time Quentin approached her door.
“Be careful crossing this street,” he said. “I think some of these drivers stay angry, and they might not be as forgiving as you.”
Amber’s smile grew. “If anything, they’ll run me over for blocking traffic.”
Quentin chuckled. “True that.”
They made it to the other side without so much as a scratch.
“Ah ha, see that,” Amber said. “I guess today’s my lucky day.”
Quentin nodded. “So it would seem. How about this window seat?” he said, motioning to the far-right corner.
“Yeah, that works.”
Amber strutted toward the table, and it was the first time Quentin took a real look at her. She was draped in a double-breasted coat, and the pants she wore put him in the mind of a certain attorney he knew. Just like that, his thoughts traveled back to Phoebe. It was beginning to become his vice.
They sat down at the table, and Amber removed her coat. A server approached with a notepad and pen in hand.
“Good morning, I’m Daphne, I’ll be your waitress today, what can I start you off with?”
“Hi Daphne, I’m Amber and this is Quentin, we both would like a cup of coffee, black, with two sugars,” she finished.
Quentin’s eyes stretched in surprise.
“Anything else?” Daphne asked.
“No, thank you,” Amber said.
Daphne strolled away from the table with an extra pep in her step.
Quentin cleared his throat. “I was unaware that you knew who I was, Amber.”
Amber turned her head to the side in thought. “You didn’t tell me your name when we were outside?”
“I’m sure I said my name was Q.”
Amber tossed her hands up. “You got me; you have a popular face, Mr. Davidson. You shouldn’t be so surprised when people know who you are.”
Something about Amber was off. Quentin was regretting this cup of coffee.
“You told the server how I take my coffee,” he pointed out.
Amber nodded slowly. “Yeah… I did.” She dipped her head in her shoulders, feeling embarrassed. “You’re feeling creeped out, aren’t you?”
Quentin didn’t lie. “Just a little bit.”
“Oh my God,” Amber said. “Okay, so it’s not what you think. I read an interview you did in Men’s Health magazine this year. You talked about everything from your upbringing to how you became the fitness guru that you are. You even talked about how you like your coffee.” Amber smiled sheepishly again. “You can run now if you’re feeling the need to. I’d understand.”
The server bounced back over with coffee for them both, and Quentin pulled out his American Express and offered it over to the clerk.
“I’ll be right back with your receipt,” she said, bouncing away.
“I was going to pay for that,” Amber said. “I was the one who asked if I could buy you a cup of coffee.”
Quentin pulled the mug to his lips and blew softly before responding. “I don’t mind.” He glanced out the window and motioned to the vehicle. “That’s a nice classic. A 1967 Shelby 427 Cobra Roadster.”
Amber perked up. “And you have a love for old school cars, that’s right,” she said.
Quentin thought back to that interview. The information he’d revealed seemed harmless enough. But Amber had a way of bringing to light why disclosing information was important to remember.
“You have an excellent memory, Amber.”
Amber beamed. “That’s a good thing.”
Quentin nodded. “True that. You have me at a disadvantage.”
“How so?”
“You know things about me, but I know nothing about you.”
Amber gave a sly smile. “Well, what would you like to know?”
Quentin took another sip of his coffee.
“Why don’t you tell me how you ended up with that beauty out there,” he said, pointing to the Cobra Roadster.
Amber lit up with glee and went into a full conversation about the car’s original leather interior and 4-speed transmission. Quentin could barely focus on her words when his thoughts traveled back to Phoebe. Like a main attraction, his mind sought images of her deep brown smooth skin and the dark areolas that puckered her breasts. His tongue moved from one corner of his mouth to the other as images from their passionate kisses to the way she jumped into his arms after she’d searched him out slid through his mind.
Phoebe affected him with such a throbbing force that he’d almost indulged in the most precious part of her. Had they moved forward, Quentin would’ve buried himself, completely immersed and all of the built-up emotion he’d held back over the years would’ve exploded in the course of their lovemaking. However, the admission of Phoebe’s virginity had stopped him cold and left him discombobulated, to say the least. It added an extra layer of difficulty on him because as much as he wanted her, Quentin didn’t know if he could entirely trust himself when it came to matters of the heart. Phoebe wasn’t a one-night stand. Nor could she ever be someone he played around with for a while until he had his fill. Phoebe was a trophy, the kind you kept polished and revered with a tender appreciation. She was a one of a kind, like a classic you kept in pristine condition.
It was then that Quentin knew the real reasons for his hesitation. Sure he respected his friends’ wishes and wanted to stay clear of their sister, but honestly, in the back of Quentin’s mind, he had to wonder if their reservations were reasonable.
Amber chirped for about thirty minutes before Quentin glanced down at his wristwatch.
“Oh, I’m sure you have someplace you need to be as important as you are,” she said.
“Actually, I have a meeting in an hour and have lingered longer than I should’ve. Thank you for the coffee, Amber,” he said, rising from his seat.
Amber stood at the same time. “I should be the one thanking you. I didn’t pay for the coffee, remember?”
Quentin tilted his head in silent agreement. Amber pulled a ten-dollar bill from her change purse.
“How about I leave the tip?” she said, tossing the bill down.
They strolled away from the table, and the doorbell chimed as they exited. “You paid more for the tip than I
paid for the coffee,” he said.
Amber shrugged. “I know you’re a millionaire an all, but I can’t let you show me out.” She laughed, paying no mind to her footing as she stepped off the sidewalk backwards and continued to speak to him cheerfully. A Volkswagen shot down the street seconds away from running her over. Instead of calling out her name, Quentin moved quickly to pull her back but wasn’t faster than the speeding vehicle.
“Aaaah!” Amber squealed as Quentin shoved her out from in front of the oncoming collision. There was only a second to spare before the impact with the sailing automobile. It hit him at the waist, and his body rolled up the front, smashing hard against the windshield.
“Oh my God!” Amber shouted, rising to her feet to run over to Quentin. The horn inside the Volkswagen blasted as the driver’s face rested on the steering wheel. Neither the driver nor Quentin moved as everything around them stopped, and any nearby pedestrians called the police. Amber called out to Quentin, but he was none the wiser as he was out cold.
Chapter Six
The nurses a Mercy Hospital shuffled in and out of Quentin’s room every thirty minutes. It was as if they needed to check vital signs around the clock. Phoebe sat in a chair on the side of his bed watching him sleep. From the looks of his restful slumber and solid physique, you couldn’t tell he had slightly bruised ribs.
She traced his dark brown features, strong nose, smooth skin, and thick brows. The groomed hair around his mouth connected with his close-cropped beard, and his locks were pulled back off his carved structural face. Phoebe had been in her office poring over mountains of paperwork when Jordan had walked in suddenly with alarm written all over his face.
“What’s wrong?” she’d asked, instantly clutching the paper in her hand.
“It’s Quentin, he’s been in an accident.”
It was all she’d needed to hear. Phoebe’s heart had dropped, and she stood quickly and grabbed her coat, leaving her phone, purse, and shoes sitting by the desk.
“You should at least put some shoes on,” Jordan said.
Phoebe glanced down then around the room mechanically, then robotically walked back to her shoes to claim them. From there she’d followed him to the elevator, but it wouldn’t come fast enough so she evaded her spot for the stairs.
“Phoebe!” Jordan had called after her. But she kept moving with her mind in a fog at what could’ve happened to him. Jordan had caught up with her, but Phoebe’s feet never stop running.
“I’m driving,” Jordan said, noticing his sister’s visibly shaken demeanor. He coached her to the car, and although she’d asked him questions about the accident, she numbly stared off into space until their arrival at the hospital.
Phoebe turned to the TV that hung on the wall then back to him. She’d been there an hour, and he’d slept soundly ever since. She reached out to him and squeezed his hand. Phoebe needed to know that he was okay. He looked fine, great actually for someone who’d been hit by a car, but not hearing it from his voice made Phoebe’s chest tightened, and now Phoebe wished she had answered his phone calls.
What if he didn’t make it? God forbid, what if he died? Phoebe’s eyes watered, and the squeezing in her throat made her clasp his hand again. When his eyes fluttered open, Phoebe held her breath and spoke.
“Quentin?”
His long lashes fluttered again, and a deep whisper strummed from his voice, “Hey, baby girl.”
Phoebe exhaled a long breath, and her head fell onto the edge of his bed. Quentin glanced around the room, then squinted and stretched his eyes.
“We’re in the hospital.”
It wasn’t a question, just his solid observation. Phoebe glanced up at him, and Quentin’s brows knocked together in a frown.
“Why are you crying?” he asked.
Phoebe held on to his hand while dabbing at her eyes with the back of her other hand.
“You have no idea, do you?”
Quentin looked around again then sat forward.
“Wait!” Phoebe said, standing to stop him from moving. Quentin peered up at her.
“Why am I in the hospital? And Why does— aah!” he said, biting down on his teeth. “What…?” Quentin thought over the last thing he remembered.
The coffee shop, Amber, the Volkswagen.
“Please lay back down,” Phoebe said.
Quentin sat back against the hospital mattress just as the door swung open, and Amber traipsed through the door. Her eyes widened upon seeing Quentin awake, and her hands flew to her mouth.
“Quentin…” she whispered sharply, muffling her voice with the cover of her hand. Amber walked over to stand on the other side of his bed. Phoebe’s brow rose just as Amber noticed her holding his hand. “Um, I’m sorry,” Amber said. “I didn’t mean to barge in like that. I’m just so glad to see you up. Jesus Christ, what are you Clark Kent?”
“Phoebe, this is Amber. Amber, this is Phoebe,” he said, making the introductions as fast as possible.
“Hi.” Amber stuck her hand out to shake Phoebe’s.
“How are you?” Phoebe returned her gesture then pulled her focus back to Quentin. “You scared me to death,” she said. “I could kick your ass.”
Quentin cocked his head to the side. “You were just sitting there crying now you’re cursing me out?”
“Damn right,” she said. “What were you thinking running into the street like that? You could’ve been killed!”
Quentin’s gaze softened. “Is that what you were worried about?”
Phoebe bit down on her teeth then pursed her lips.
“What is wrong with you?” she repeated.
“If I may,” Amber said, cutting in, “it was my fault.” Amber looked at Quentin. “This time it was me not watching where I was going. I must be bad luck.”
“Then why are you still here?” Phoebe snapped.
Both Quentin and Amber looked at Phoebe with wide eyes.
“I’m… um, you’re right, I should leave.” Amber took her attention back to Quentin. “Quentin, I’m so sorry again, please send me your medical bills, and I’d be glad to pay them.”
“That’s not necessary,” Quentin said, finally turning to Amber.
Amber nodded profusely. “In that case, I’ll take a hike.” Amber moved to the door and disappeared quickly.
Taking his gaze back to Phoebe, a slow drugging smile spread across his face. “You know it turns me on when you pop off like that.”
Phoebe gave him an evil eye, peering down at him with her brow stretched out.
“That does, too,” he said. “Is this what it takes for me to get your attention? I’ve got to get hit by a car?”
“Or dropped out of a plane,” Phoebe joked with a straight face.
Quentin laughed and moved quickly. A shot of excruciating pain ran through his abdomen. “Arrgh!” he growled.
“Be careful!” Phoebe said, reaching out to hold him steady. “My goodness, why are you going around trying to be Superman?”
“If I hadn’t shoved her, she would be dead,” he said plainly.
Phoebe huffed. “You could be dead. Who is she, do you know her?”
“Not really?” he said.
“What does that even mean?”
“She’s a fan,” he said, “and she was talking my head off when she stepped into traffic.”
The door opened, and a doctor trailed through.
“Mr. Davidson, I’m Doctor Bradshaw, how are you feeling?”
“Like a gladiator,” Quentin said.
Dr. Bradshaw smirked. “You’re built like one, too.”
Quentin glanced at Phoebe standing beside him with pursed lips, and he winked.
“Please don’t stroke his ego, Doctor,” she said.
“It’s true, any normal person would be in the hospital a few days after an accident like that. But miraculously, you’ve just got a little bruising. Nothing a day or two at home couldn’t heal. Just take your time getting around. It may be nice for you to hire some hel
p if you don’t already have some.”
“So am I free to go, Doctor?”
“Not just yet. We’ll let you sit for a while then come back and check up on you. At that time, if you’re doing fine, we’ll consider letting you go.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Phoebe said.
Dr. Bradshaw nodded. “Get some rest,” he said, leaving the way he’d come.
Quentin pulled his shirt up and glanced down at his bruised abdomen.
“Oh my God,” Phoebe said, bracing from the darkness of it.
“It’s not that bad,” Quentin said. “It’s just a small bruise; you worry too much. I’ll be good.”
Phoebe wasn’t so sure.
“Thank you for coming to check on me,” he said.
“You don’t have to thank me for that. I never want anything to happen to you.”
They stared at one another.
“Why have you been avoiding me?”
Phoebe sat slowly, dropping her weight in the chair she’d previously occupied.
“Because I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to accept a phone call from me?”
“Was it an emergency?”
Quentin considered her for a long time before Phoebe couldn’t take any more of his heated gaze.
“What?” she said.
“What do you want from me, Phoebe?”
Phoebe dropped her mouth open to speak, but nothing came out. She considered his question while he waited for an honest answer.
“Nothing,” she said finally.
“Now that’s not fair,” he said.
“What isn’t?”
“Telling lies right to my face.”
Phoebe sighed.
“I may not be able to give you what you want,” he said.
Phoebe rose from her seat. She didn’t want to hear this same rhetoric.
“But, I’m willing to try.”
She turned to him. “What?”
This time Quentin let out a heavy sigh. “I’m not perfect, Phoebe Alexandria Rose, not like you. My flaws run deeper than you know, and I’m not sure being with me is what you need, but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try it out, if you’re willing to risk it.”
Mine (Falling For A Rose Book 7) Page 4