by Marie James
“This is a really nice place.”
“It is. It’s part of the benefits package with Blackbridge. I make decent money, but I’d never be able to afford something like this if the rent wasn’t discounted dramatically. Hell, I wouldn’t even rent a place like this at full price if I had the money. It’s more than I’ll ever need. I’m kind of a simple guy.” I roll her suitcases in front of the walk-in closet. “If it didn’t come furnished, I’d have to offer you my bed and sleep on the couch.”
“Well, thank you. Hopefully your friend will be able to find out what’s going on, and I won’t be in your hair too long. If you want, I can withdraw cash in the morning and use that to get a hotel room.”
“It’s fine,” I rush out. “You’re welcome to stay as long as it takes.”
She nods, her eyes locking on my chest. The attention makes it a little harder to breathe. I linger, wanting to reach out to her, but I don’t.
“Well, I’m going to try to get a few more hours of sleep. I have work at nine in the morning.”
I open my mouth to ask her to call in sick, but I know she wouldn’t appreciate it. I’ve already plowed into her life and all but taken over.
“Sleep well. I’ll get you to work on time,” I tell her before backing out of the room.
I immediately shoot Wren a text telling him to keep the kinky talk to a minimum. They must be at an intermission because he responds back quickly.
Wren: I was planning to gag her anyway.
Me: Well, gag that fucking bird too. I don’t want Hayden hearing him yell choke on Daddy’s cock! I heard enough of that shit last week.
He sends me a series of crying laughing emojis.
Chapter 22
Hayden
When Quinten mentioned hours ago that the condo was fully furnished, he wasn’t joking. I’m grateful for whatever considerate person thought to include a handheld clothing steamer on the list of things to include because I packed in such a rush last night that everything in my suitcases is wrinkled.
The bathroom is also fully stocked, which nearly made me cry when I forced myself out of the bed and realized I didn’t get anything from my bathroom. I have no personal hygiene items, nor any makeup. I may be in freshly pressed clothes when I walk out of the bedroom, but I still feel like a bum.
I was both sad and ecstatic when I rifled through the drawers in the bathroom looking for mascara that may have been left behind by an old girlfriend.
“Good morning.”
Wow. I know I’ve said that out loud more than once since he woke me up last night, and I’m grateful for being able to just keep it in my head this time around.
Quinten Lake, first thing in the morning… he’s just… everything.
If Parker thought he was hot in jeans, they have nothing on the pajama pants that are riding low on his hips.
My eyes are glued to his bare stomach so long he has to clear his throat to get my attention. It still takes me a couple more seconds before I can lift my eyes.
“I didn’t know you’d be up so early. I didn’t think to put on a shirt. I’m glad I wore bottoms to bed, or you’d have more than an eyeful right now.”
I swallow, thinking the view is pretty fantastic, even better than the sleepy city lights from the hallway outside his condo door. I wouldn’t survive walking in here to him in nothing but boxers or completely naked. My heart is having a hard time keeping up right now as it is.
With the beard, I guess I should’ve considered the possibility of a hairy chest, but wow, just wow. My fingers itch to touch him, to trace the muscles of his torso, circle around his nipples, and then—
“Hayden?” He’s grinning when I snap my eyes up to his. “Am I making you uncomfortable? I can go put on—”
“No! I mean. It’s your place. Wear as much or as little as you like. I mean—”
“Coffee?” He holds up the half-full pot, saving me from further embarrassment. “I like it when your cheeks turn pink like that.”
I duck my head, my fingers pressing to the warmth below my eyes. “I’d love a cup of coffee. Thank you.”
“Were you able to get any rest?”
“Not really,” I answer honestly. “I couldn’t turn my brain off.”
“Understandable. Cream? Sugar?”
“Black is fine. Thank you.”
His fingers brush mine when he passes me the cup, and either I’m losing my mind or haven’t had enough sleep to function properly because a wave of heat runs from the tips of his fingers all the way up my arm. I swear it settles on the tip of my breast, and I nearly moan at the contact.
“You okay?”
“Wonderful,” I lie as I lift the cup to my lips and take a tiny sip. “This is delicious.”
He laughs, a deep baritone sound rumbling from deep in his chest. “It’s Folgers. Simple man, remember? Did you let your friend know where you are?”
“I shot her a text earlier. I can ask her if I can stay at her place.”
“I want… until we know what’s going on, I’d prefer you to stay here. There’s no sense in putting anyone else in danger.”
“Okay,” I agree quickly.
He turns around to fill his own cup, but I catch the smile on his handsome face before he can hide it fully.
“I was thinking maybe—”
A knock hits his door, but instead of looking surprised, he seems annoyed as he places his cup of coffee back on the counter to go and answer it.
“I apologize in advance,” he mutters before opening the door without even looking through the peephole.
A pretty girl with purple hair steps in first, followed by Wren, the guy who installed the security system.
“Hayden, lovely to see you again. This is Whitney, my girlfriend.”
Whitney crosses the room offering me her hand. “I want to apologize for last night.”
I look from her to Quinten in confusion.
“Wren and Whitney live next door.” He angles his head in the direction we heard the noises last night.
My eyes widen, and he rolls his lips inward.
“We get a little out of control every once in a while,” Whitney continues.
Quinten scoffs.
“Often. We get a little wild quite often, honestly. We’ll keep it down.”
Wren coughs.
“We’ll try to keep it down.”
“I thought you were in the guest bedroom?” Wren says.
“I am,” I rush out.
Wren turns to Quinten with a devious look in his eye. “Then why is it a problem?”
“She’s in the master, which I use as the spare,” Quinten explains, and I feel another rush of heat on my face. “I’m in the spare, which I use as the master.”
I just made it sound like I was in his room with him last night, and although I don’t hate the idea of that, I don’t know these people. They may not care who hears or knows what they’re doing in the privacy of their own home, but I’m not one to share information like that with strangers, or anyone for that matter.
“I kind of feel bad the man moved out of the bigger bedroom,” Whitney whispers. I look at her in confusion, wondering how they could play a part in him moving. She must notice because she leans in even closer like we’ve been friends for years. “The masters in these condos share a wall.”
“Okay. Well, lovely. It was nice to meet you, but I have to get to work.”
“We’re really sorry, Hayden. I just wanted to come over and introduce you to my girl so you can see she wasn’t being hurt last night,” Wren says with much more ease than anyone should have talking about the subject. I’m not a prude, but time and place, fella.
“My butt is still a little sor—”
“You heard the lady,” Quinten interrupts. “Thanks for stopping by. Next time, call first so we can pretend to be gone.”
Both Wren and Whitney laugh as they leave the condo.
Quinten rests his back against the door with wide eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry.�
�
“You had to switch rooms?” He nods. “That’s what you meant by if they’re making too much noise?”
“Yeah. They’re uh, rambunctious to say the least. I’m sure you deduced that yourself.”
“And not shy about it, huh?”
He clears his throat twice as he pushes off the door. “Let me get dressed, and I’ll get you to work. Unless you’d like to call in.”
He sounds hopeful, and as much as I’d like to stay here and spend time with him, I’m not the type of person to call in unless it’s a legitimate emergency. Apparently, in my mind, possibly being stalked after getting my house broken into doesn’t fall into that category.
“I need some normalcy,” I explain.
I sit at the counter while he gets dressed, trying to keep my mind from wandering to the realization that he had to first strip down before putting more clothes on.
We haven’t touched, haven’t kissed or even talked about that kiss. It leads me to believe he regretted it and seeing as how he apologized for doing it the second it happened, I shouldn’t expect any less. But if that’s the case, why is he always staring at my mouth. Why is he going out of his way to make sure I’m safe? Is it his personality? Would he do this for any woman, or does he just feel obligated because there’s a chance I’m being watched because of something he’s done?
“Ready?” he asks, sweeping into the room, the scent of cologne in the air.
Mouth-watering—that’s the best way to describe not only how he looks in jeans and a tight t-shirt, but also the scent of him, the air of power that swarms all around, somehow seeming to wrap me in a cocoon of safety even with him a couple feet away.
“I have travel coffee mugs, if you’d like some to go.”
“I have a mug at work but thank you.”
I don’t know if I imagine it or I’m just hopeful, but I swear I feel the brush of his hand on my lower back when we walk toward the door.
We chat about nothing in particular on the drive to my work after I tell him the address, and I get the feeling he’s trying to lighten the mood from the drama that my life has become.
With a quick goodbye and a request to text him when I get off work, I climb out of his truck. The office is quiet when I arrive, and I find it unusual that my boss has two men in his office. They both stare at me when I walk by, one of them closing the door before I make it to my desk. My boss normally doesn’t get to work so early, but he’s been acting weird for weeks.
I grab another cup of coffee wondering just how many it’s going to take to get me through the day and get to work. As the day drags by, I regret not taking Quinten up on his suggestion to just call in.
When the guys leave my boss’s office, one stares at me like I’ve personally offended him, but he doesn’t say a word.
Thankfully, the rest of the day goes by without incident. When I text Quinten to let him know I’m leaving soon, he texts back that he’s already waiting in the parking garage for me. I don’t think I’ve ever rushed out of the office so fast.
Chapter 23
Quinten
She grins, a smile so small it barely lifts the corner of her mouth when she spots my truck as she exits the office building. I climb out quickly and open the door for her, resisting the urge to help her inside by either touching her waist or her glorious ass. God, the woman brings me to my knees, and I don’t think she even realizes it.
“Good day?” I ask when I climb into the cab.
“I’m an accountant. I don’t think I’ve had a good day at work since I started.”
I frown, hating that she goes to a job she doesn’t love. I have bad days at work as well. I think everyone has, but I couldn’t imagine waking up each morning with any level of enthusiasm if I despised where I worked.
“Your car is back at my place. They didn’t find a tracker on it, and they didn’t find anything at your house. I wish I could tell you that we were closer to figuring out just what the hell is going on, but we aren’t.”
“Okay,” she answers, sounding sullen and a little withdrawn. “I hate that I’m putting you out.”
“You’re not,” I rush to tell her. “It was nice to have someone to chat with this morning.”
And the way she looked at me? I was barely able to keep control of my erection, a problem I haven’t had since my early twenties.
“Do you have a class tonight?” she asks when I pull up outside the gun range.
“Nope. Just here to pick up a package.”
“Do you want me to wait?”
“You can come in. Do you want to shoot today?”
I’m anxious to get her back to my place, but I’m willing to do anything to set her mind more at ease.
She opens her door, climbing down once again before I can help her out, and it’s a problem I promise to work on. I want to help her. I want her hand in mine when she climbs down. I want to be able to touch her if only for the briefest of seconds.
I wave at Adam when we walk inside. I called earlier today and made arrangements, so he heads to the back to get my purchase without greeting us first.
Hayden waits at the counter with me, her eyes rolling over all the guns on display that they rent out for the firing lanes.
“Here it is,” Adam says when he walks up to us.
He snaps open the hard case, and I watch Hayden for her reaction.
She isn’t smiling when she looks up at me. “That thing is tiny. Are you planning to hide it in your boot?”
“It’s not for me.”
She blinks down at the gun, not catching on.
“It’s for you.”
“Not me,” she says, taking a step away from the counter.
Adam disappears silently, and I’m grateful for the privacy.
“I need you to be armed.”
“I’m not ready.”
“You are,” I assure her.
“You can’t buy me a gun, Quinten.”
“You won it.”
“Don’t start that shit with me,” she snaps, but that teasing grin is on her face once again.
“You can ask Adam. They randomly pick one winner a month from all the people who rented lanes.”
“Another lie! I already ‘won’ the security system. There’s no way I got lucky twice. I bet that’s not even a thing.”
Thankfully, Adam is nowhere to be found. I point to an announcement on the wall that does in fact explain the drawing held each month. “See? I’m not making this up. It’s yours. I want you to carry it in your purse.”
I’m glad they don’t post the names of the winners on the wall. This little fib wouldn’t work out in my favor if they did.
“With the luck I’m having, I should’ve filled out that survey I got in the mail last month that promised an entry for a new BMW.”
“Do you need a new car?” I tease.
She slaps my stomach with the back of her hand. “Would you stop? It’s really mine?”
“Yes.”
“Would you make fun of me if I told you I’m a little scared to carry it around with me?”
“Remember when I told you that a little fear is a good thing, and firearms should be respected? No, I’m not going to make fun of you. It’s healthy and completely sane to feel that way.”
“Is it loaded?”
“Of course not. You can’t have loaded weapons inside this part of the store. Only employees.”
“So, you’re not armed right now?”
“They consider me an employee.” It’s not a huge lie. I kind of work here if you consider BBS renting out the firing range and classroom recently. “We’ll get it loaded once we get back home… I mean back to my place.”
“Okay.” She snaps the lid closed.
“In your purse, Hayden.”
“It won’t fit in my purse.” She looks down at the counter. “Maybe Adam can put it in a bag or something.”
“Take it out of the case and put it in your purse. You need to get used to the weight of it.”
“Let’s grab some dinner,” I say as we leave, not really giving her an option to turn me down. “Do you want to sit down or something quick?”
“Do you have a preference because I just want to eat and veg out? You don’t have to change your plans for me. I promise not to snoop through your things back at your condo if you have something else to take care of.”
I huff a laugh. “I have nothing to hide, Hayden. Feel free to go through every drawer in the house.”
“Even the bedside drawer?” Her eyes widen as she clamps her hand over her mouth. “Can we just pretend I didn’t just lose my brain-to-mouth filter?”
“I think something quick is a good idea. Are you thinking burger, pizza, Mexican?”
She allows me to open the door for her. Well, I don’t hit the unlock on my key fob until we’re both standing near the passenger side, and I have no doubt she’d open the door herself if she could.
“I like opening the door for you,” I say as I lean in close. “Let me.”
She gives me a quick nod, and I hate that I can’t see if she’s blushing with her back to me.
“Burgers sound perfect. Maybe some place with those seasoned curly fries?”
“Your wish is my command,” I tell her as I crank the truck and back out of the parking lot. “And if you were wondering, I don’t have anything weird in my bedside table.”
She squeaks, and I chuckle at the sound.
“It’s empty except for a pair of reading glasses—I am old after all—and a crossword puzzle book I work on when I can’t sleep.”
I feel her eyes on me, but I resist looking in her direction as I pull out into traffic. Maybe she got my meaning. I don’t have condoms or sex toys, meaning I don’t tend to have sex in my own bed. Hell, I don’t really have sex, and the last time I did, which was months and months ago, I went to that woman’s place. It was closer to the bar I picked her up at.
“What’s in your bedside table?”