Mine (Falling For A Rose Book 7)

by Stephanie Nicole Norris

  He pulled his lips between his teeth.

  “Nobody’s perfect,” she said, “not even me. But I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to.”

  “See, there you go, putting words in my mouth.”

  “I’m not, I’m just merely stating facts.”

  “Because you’re a fact checker?”

  “You know it.”

  Quentin chuckled and reached out for her hand. Their fingers mixed, bringing their palms together. The door to his room opened, and Jordan walked inside. He looked from Quentin to Phoebe, then to the connection of their hands. Slowly, his eyes crept back over to Quentin.

  “I guess you’re feeling better,” he said a bit frosty. “Phoebe, do you mind if I holla at my boy for a minute?”

  Phoebe cut her eyes at Jordan. “As long as it has nothing to do with my business,” she said.

  Jordan glanced from her to Quentin.

  “Your business, huh?”

  “Jordan…” Phoebe said, biting down on her teeth.

  “Phoebe,” Quentin called. She looked at him with a frown. “Give us a minute.”

  Phoebe hesitated, and she tensed. She was going to murder Jordan if he thought about mentioning them holding hands.

  Without another word, she walked around the bed and left the room.

  Jordan walked up on Quentin. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  Chapter Seven

  Quentin and Jordan were in a hostile stare down.

  “You better start talking,” Jordan said.

  “Do you think I would do anything to hurt her?”

  “Oh man, don’t give me that shit!” Jordan paced the length of the room. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Would you calm down?” Quentin said.

  “Calm down!” Jordan stuck a finger out at Quentin. “We agreed, family is off limits. You don’t see me trying to date your sister. We agreed!”

  “My sister is married,” Quentin said.

  “That’s beside the point!”

  “Look, I didn’t set out to date your sister,” Quentin said.

  “Then how the hell did you end up doing it? I swear to God, Q, you better not be…” Jordan’s words evaporated, but Quentin knew what he meant.

  “I haven’t touched her,” Quentin confirmed.

  Jordan seemed to breathe easy.

  “Not in the way you think.”

  Heat suffused Jordan’s cheeks, but Quentin quickly surrendered his hands. “I kissed her,” he said.

  Jordan closed his eyes. “And what else,” he said, gritting his teeth.

  “We haven’t had sex if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “This is some bullshit. This shouldn’t even be a conversation I’m having with you, of all people! You are practically her brother! You watched her grow up!”

  “You say that like we didn’t grow up together. She’s grown. We’re not that much older than her.”

  “You’re fucking serious,” Jordan said. “We agreed.”

  “What are you so worried about?” Quentin asked.

  “Don’t go there, man, just don’t do it,” Jordan said. “Jonathon is going to lose his shit.”

  “I’ll tell Jonathon the same thing.”

  “Which is what?”

  “I want to date Phoebe, brother. I’m going to,” he stated.

  The men had another intense stare down.

  “You’re going to,” Jordan said.

  “I’d rather have your blessing first,” Quentin assured.

  “You don’t,” Jordan said sharply. “So now what?”

  Quentin hadn’t wanted it to come down to this. Having to choose between dating Phoebe and sticking with his agreement to his friends was like shooting knives.

  “I won’t have sex with her. Not unless I marry her.”

  Jordan’s eyes widened. “Marriage?”

  Quentin nodded. Jordan felt like he was in an alternate universe talking to another dude name Quentin. Jordan considered walking out the room and dragging Phoebe off down the hall. She would be mad, fighting and cursing him to hell, but she would thank him later for saving her from what would inevitably become a devastating heartbreak. Jordan had seen the women break down over Quentin; some would hold on to his ankle as he casually stepped over them, and there was no way he would let Phoebe put herself in that line of fire.

  On the other hand, he’d seen the way she’d blanked out after finding out about Quentin’s accident. He talked to her the whole ride to the hospital, and she hadn’t responded to him besides asking how close they were. It made him wonder how long they’d been seeing each other, and it pissed him off even more.

  “I’m not telling Jonathon about this,” Jordan said. “You’re telling him yourself.”

  “I didn’t expect you to tell him,” Quentin responded.

  “Good because I don’t want to be around when he knocks some sense into you.”

  “I know why you’re responding this way. But you know me, man.”

  “Yeah, that’s right, I know you!” Jordan pointed at Quentin with his jaw locked. Jordan shook his head once and let out a frustrated breath as he pivoted on his heels. He strolled to the door with one last warning for Quentin. “If you hurt her…”

  “Understood,” Quentin said.

  Jordan left the room, and no sooner than he did, Jordan met Phoebe in the hall. She stood against the wall with her arms crossed and a thundering headache that had suddenly come on.

  Jordan swept his trench coat back, placing his hands on his hips.

  “Why him?”

  Phoebe licked her lips and pulled them between her teeth. “Why does it matter? Would it be that different if it were someone else?”

  “Yes, it would.”

  Phoebe dropped her arms. “I don’t understand. You would trust him with your life, but not with me?”

  Jordan dropped his head and sighed. “It’s not the same.” Jordan looked back at her.

  “That’s the same thing he said,” she pointed out.

  “He’s telling the truth. I trust him with my life because he’s my brother. I don’t trust him with you because he’s not that guy, Phoebe.”

  Phoebe stared at her brother, and her throat tightened.

  “Don’t fall in love with him,” Jordan said. “If you have to…” his words trailed, “date him, do it and get it out of your system. But don’t fall in love with him. Promise me.”

  They stared each other down, Phoebe wondering if this was happening and Jordan hoping beyond hope that she heeded his advice. Turning her gaze away from him, Phoebe looked down the hallway at the passing food cart that stopped by room to room.

  “Phoebe,” Jordan said.

  “You’re wrong,” she said, keeping her eyes down the hall.

  “I’m not.”

  Silence lingered between them, and finally, Phoebe turned back.

  “You’re wrong,” she said, “and I’m going to prove it.”

  “Phoebe…”

  “You said you would stay out of my business. You just made that promise today. Are you planning to take that back?”

  “That’s not fair. I know this man. I’m only trying to look out for you.”

  “And how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t need you looking out for me?”

  “What happens when he breaks your heart?”

  “He won’t.”

  Jordan’s brows stretched. “You sound certain,” he said, trying not to show his frustration.

  “I am. You trust him with my life, don’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay then.”

  “You’re confusing things, Phoebe. Trusting him with your life is not the same as trusting him with your heart.”

  “You’re just going to keep saying that?” she said.

  “Yes. Until I can drill some sense into your head.”

  “You need to understand something, Jordan. Not you, Jonathon, Jacob, Jonas, Jaden, Josiah, or Julian can stop
me from seeing who I want. If you don’t trust your own best friend with me, fine. That’s your prerogative, but don’t tell me who to see.”

  “I just—”

  “I know, okay, you’re just trying to look out for me. But if you’re really up for teaching me a lesson then let the chips fall where they may. If it doesn’t work out, it won’t change anything between you two.”

  “That’s a damn lie.”

  “It’s on you,” she said, leaving Jordan standing in the hallway.

  When Phoebe glided back into the room, Quentin was sitting on the side of the bed, trying to put his coat on. She ran to his side.

  “What are you doing? You’re going to hurt yourself even more.”

  Quentin reached up and tugged her nose. “What are you talking about, girl, don’t you know by now I’m made of steel.”

  She smiled. “Don’t let that Superman thing go to your head.”

  Quentin chuckled. “Do you mind if I use your phone? I didn’t have mine on me at the time of the accident, so I’m sure it’s still back in my car over on Melrose.”

  “Sure,” she said, “when the doctor releases you, I can take you over to get it if you want.”

  She handed him her cell.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  He dialed a number and waited a beat before speaking. “Cindy, I need you to meet me at my place. I need a favor.”

  He listened on the line for his personal assistant’s response and smirked. “It’s a big favor,” he responded. “I’ve been in an accident, and I’ll need you around the house for a day or two.”

  Phoebe reached for her phone, taking it out of Quentin’s hand.

  “I wasn’t done with that,” he said reaching out for the receiver.

  Phoebe placed the phone to her ear. “Hey Cindy, this is Phoebe.” She paused. “Yeah, listen, ignore what Quentin just said, I’m going to stay over and help him out for a few days.”

  Surprised, Quentin reached for Phoebe, pulling her between his legs. She nuzzled between them with her back turned and the phone to her ear as she listened to Cindy’s response.

  “No, he’s sitting right here, so you won’t get in trouble, I promise, isn’t that right, Quentin?” Phoebe turned to Quentin just as he began nibbling on the back of her neck.

  Phoebe shut her eyes and quivered as a wave of heat covered her skin. Removing the phone from her hand, Quentin spoke into the receiver while keeping his eyes on Phoebe.

  “Cindy, continue what you were doing, I’ll call you back.” He disconnected the call and handed Phoebe back her phone.

  “What do you think you’re doing, ladybug?” he asked.

  “Why would you need Cindy there when you’ve got me?”

  His gaze fell to her luscious lips. “I didn’t know I had you.”

  Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding?”

  “I’m not.” Quentin paused before responding, “Are we officially dating?”

  Phoebe stuffed her cell inside her coat pocket. “You tell me, Quentin. What do you want to happen between us?”

  Their gazes held as his fingers fiddled with the sides of her waist before sinking into her hips and pulling her closer. So close they were nose to nose.

  “Let’s take things slow. We know a lot about each other, but there are some things we could learn. I want to take you out on an official date.”

  Phoebe smiled warmly.

  “But, I need to speak to Jonathon first.”

  Phoebe’s smile quickly dropped and she rolled her eyes. “For the love of God,” she fumed.

  “Baby girl, this has nothing to do with me treating you like a child and everything to do with my respect for your brothers. I need them to know about this and also to know that I respect you, and I would never do anything to hurt you.”

  Phoebe shook her head. She knew Jonathon, and he was bolder when it came to her, Eden, and Jasmine. Her other brothers were bad, but Jonathon was worse.

  “What happens when he doesn’t agree?”

  Quentin had thought about that the entire time Phoebe was in the hall arguing with Jordan.

  “Then I’ll just have to show him,” he said, tugging her nose again.

  A half smile turned into a pout on Phoebe’s lips, and Quentin leaned in to kiss them. The warmth from his mouth coiled around her heart, making her feel like mush. She sank into his kiss, starting a fire that would have to be put out by the hospital’s staff.

  “In the meantime,” Quentin said between kisses, “it’s probably best that Cindy stay over to help me.”

  Phoebe jerked back. “So, you are basically waiting for my brother’s approval?”

  “Not necessarily. I just want them to know before I have you over. It would be like me asking you to marry me without speaking to your father first. Even if I didn’t get his blessing, I would have done the honorable thing first.”

  Phoebe let out a heavy sigh. “Fine.” But she didn’t feel fine. Already, she had doubts about another woman in Quentin’s home. How could she not with all of the things Jordan had said.

  “I have a court case that I need to prepare for.” She was spaced out when she said it.

  “How bad is it?” he asked.

  “It may be the case that makes or breaks my career,” she responded.

  Quentin arched a brow. “That bad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

  “Thanks for your vote of confidence.”

  “Always.” He pulled her hand to his lips for a soft kiss. “There’s somewhere I want you to go with me.”

  Phoebe perked up. “Oh yeah?” She fiddled with the column of his throat, and when Quentin spoke his voice was thick and gruff.

  “Yeah,” he responded. “Let’s get out of here first, and I’ll tell you all about it.” Quentin resumed putting on his coat.

  “Hold on; you can’t just leave. The doctor said you should wait a while until you’re released.”

  Just then the door swung open, and Dr. Bradshaw walked in. Quentin smirked and glanced at Phoebe with a slow approving nod of his head.

  “There you go,” he said.

  Phoebe grinned. “You think you know it all, don’t you?”

  “Nah, you think I know it all.”

  “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.” Dr. Bradshaw said. “Let me have another look at you before you hightail it out of here.”

  Phoebe stood back while the doctor assessed Quentin’s torso.

  “Mmhmm,” Dr. Bradshaw said. “Here’s a prescription for some pain medicine. You’re going to need it.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Phoebe said, taking the prescription off of his hands.

  “We’ll just call you the Iron Man,” Dr. Bradshaw continued.

  Quentin’s smile was huge now.

  “Oh brother,” Phoebe whined.

  “What I tell you?” Quentin said. “Made of steel.”

  Chapter Eight

  Eden stabbed her fork in the plate of spaghetti that sat in front of her. Phoebe glanced from her to Jasmine, and Jasmine shrugged. They were seated in Ricardo Trattoria having their weekly dinner outing. The triplets’ lives were always in the spotlight because of their family’s famous name. Each time either of them made an achievement or dated someone and broke up, the news would find its way splashed across newspapers, magazines, and sometimes TMZ. So planning their outings was a must.

  Growing up in a family with the cameras set and ready to capture every moment of your public or private life was not all it was cracked up to be. But Phoebe, Eden, and Jasmine had managed it, with the help of their family of course.

  “There’s someone over your shoulder taking a picture,” Eden said dryly.

  Phoebe glanced back to Jasmine then turned to peer over her shoulder. Just as Eden had predicted, a flash in the rear corner of the establishment illuminated than quickly went away. Phoebe sighed.

  “How would you know, you’ve barely lifted your head from your pasta. What am
I missing?”

  Eden looked up at Phoebe. “I’m surprised you still haven’t figured out how to spot them yet.”

  “How am I supposed to know when someone is going to take out a camera and take a shot?” Phoebe said.

  “There’s a simple mathematics to this. If you calculate—”

  “Oh boy, here we go,” Jasmine interrupted.

  Eden turned a sharp eye to her. “What? There is a simple mathematics to this. If there weren’t, I wouldn’t have known that guy was going to take that picture without looking his way. I also wouldn’t know he’s turned around a second time and now he’s recording.”

  Phoebe and Jasmine turned back to the guy. Sure enough, he’d left his seat and was now standing boldly filming them. They both turned around with a grumbling sigh.

  “We should probably get out of here,” Phoebe said.

  “No.” Jasmine called out to a passing server, “Excuse me, can I see the person in charge please?”

  “Is everything okay?” the dark-haired, gray-eyed waitress asked.

  “No, it’s not. There’s a man across the room filming us, and it’s rude. Either get rid of him, or we’re leaving.”

  The waitress took her eyes across the room and still the guy recorded them, waitress and all.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

  The waitress took off, and Jasmine sat back crossing her legs. They all waited patiently for the outcome of their issue before resuming their conversation. The waitress and the owner approached the man.

  “Hey man, it’s a free country, I’m not hurting anybody,” the man said.

  The owner was joined with security, and gradually without making a scene they discarded the patron.

  “That should teach him a lesson,” Jasmine said, pulling her hair behind her pierced ear. “Here they come.”

  The owner approached their table. “Good evening, Ms. Rose.” He reached out for a handshake, and they all greeted him one by one. “Please accept my humblest apologies. I hope you all will enjoy your meal, on the house tonight.”

  “Thank you,” they all chimed.

  The owner strolled away, and the waitress spoke next.

  “Are you ladies ready to order?”

  “I’ll have what she’s having,” Phoebe said, pointing to Eden’s dish.