I’d offer you some, but I know you’re working on that.
What an asshole.
But the worst part was, she couldn’t stop thinking about those Ho Hos. How there was a box, right there on the shelf in front of her. How she just wanted to shove them all in her mouth and feel better.
Well, what else did she have to do?
Quinn took the box to the counter and paid. She’d eaten two before she made it out the door.
The chocolate, the filling, the sugar rush—Quinn felt better and worse immediately. Cold air caught the tears on her cheeks and set her face to stinging.
“Hey, baby. Time for a chocolate fix?”
Quinn paused before she could shove the third one into her mouth. Two guys sat straddling motorcycles in front of the bar. She didn’t recognize them, but they weren’t very old. Probably not high school, but not much beyond that. Dark clothes, heavy boots, cool gazes.
The one with dark hair and calculating eyes took a drink from an honest-to-god flask, then gave her a clear up-and-down. His gaze barely went north of her neck. “I like your shorts, cutie. Cold night, huh?”
She should be afraid. She knew she should. But it was so nice to have someone look at her with a shred of desire that she didn’t care. It wasn’t like anyone would give a crap if she disappeared anyway.
She licked the chocolate off her fingers. “I’m all right.”
He laughed, low and masculine and genuinely amused. “I’ll say.”
She sauntered over to them and glanced at the flask. “Care to share?”
He seemed startled—but then he handed it over. She took a sip. The liquid burned her tongue and then her throat. She had no idea what it was, and she didn’t care.
The other one, with lighter hair and brown eyes, leaned forward against the handlebars on his bike. Despite his rough appearance, his eyes were kind—and he was actually looking at her, not just her assets. “What are you doing out here?”
“Same thing you are,” she said. “Just looking to have some fun.”
The dark one laughed. “We can help you with that.” He patted the seat behind him. “Want a ride?”
His voice promised something more than just a ride on the back of his motorcycle.
Reason smacked Quinn across the face, and she hesitated. Then the light-haired one shook his head. “No way. If she comes along, she’s riding with me.”
And because his eyes were kinder, because Quinn had nowhere to go and no one to call, she swung her leg over the back of his motorcycle and scooched up real close to him. He didn’t smell like liquor at all—and she would know—but instead some mixture of leather and sweat and a faint whiff of an intoxicating cologne.
She didn’t even know his name, but she didn’t care. He was warm, and she wrapped her arms around his chest.
He glanced over his shoulder. “You sure are friendly.”
No. Lonely.
“You complaining?” she said.
“Not at all.” He started the ignition on his bike and revved the engine. The vibration rolled through her body and she held on, thriving on the adrenaline.
They went to Sandy Point, driving around the barriers and down to the beach. Clear trespassing. They didn’t care, and she sure didn’t give a crap. She learned her driver’s name was Matt, he was twenty, and just like her brother, he was home from college for a few days.
She didn’t like thinking of Jake, or of Nick for that matter, so when they asked if she had a boyfriend, she said no and took another long drink from their flask. A fleece blanket appeared from a compartment on Matt’s bike, and she lay back to look at the stars while her head spun from the liquor.
This was probably the stupidest thing she’d ever done.
But hey, she wasn’t lonely now, and they weren’t trying to get in her pants or anything. And what if they did want her for sex? At least someone wanted her for something.
Dancing with Adam, the warmth and security and self-confidence, all felt a bazillion miles away.
A new bottle appeared. She recognized the label and held a hand out.
“You have any salt?” she joked.
They chuckled. The tequila burned like swallowing fire, and every breath cooled her lips. The stars danced. She forgot her name and laughed at nothing, snuggling into Matt when he tried to wrestle the bottle out of her hands.
And finally, the stars and darkness overtook her, and she passed out there on the sand.
CHAPTER 4
Nick lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering when sleep would get around to stealing his thoughts. It was close to midnight, and the house had been still and quiet when he came in. Everyone else had to be asleep.
He had a headache, probably from when Quinn had decked him.
Or maybe it was just from wrestling with his thoughts all evening.
He’d tried to text Quinn, but she’d ignored it.
Nick sighed and picked up the paperback on his bedside table—but then he read the same sentence sixteen times.
All his brain wanted to think about was Adam. The lines of his body, the strength in his dancing, the way the music swept through the room and seemed to be part of the movement.
So can I get your number?
Nick hit himself in the head with the spine of his novel and blew out a long breath. These thoughts couldn’t go anywhere. Too complicated. Too dangerous. Quinn, he thought. Think about Quinn.
So he thought about Quinn.
Dancing with Adam.
The phone rang downstairs, and Nick jumped like he’d been caught doing something inappropriate.
The house phone only rang with business calls, but no one was calling about landscaping at midnight. Probably a wrong number. Nick swung his legs out of bed to go answer it before it woke up his brothers.
The phone was on its fourth ring by the time he made it into the darkened kitchen. Nick fumbled for the right button and answered out of habit: “Merrick Landscaping.”
A bare hesitation on the other end of the line. “Is this Nick?”
He froze. He recognized the voice, and it sent his heart racing. “Yeah?”
“This is Adam. Quinn’s friend. We met—”
“I know. Yeah. I mean—” He needed to get it together. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding, and Nick couldn’t figure out whether it was from panic or excitement. “I remember. How’d you get this number?”
“It was on the side of your truck.” Another pause. “Look, I’ve never made a call quite like this one . . .”
Nick held his breath and wondered how he wanted that statement to end.
“. . . but some guy named Matt just called me and said Quinn was passed out on the beach.”
Wait. “What? Quinn’s where?”
“Sandy Point. He said he picked her up outside a bar, and she—”
“Outside a bar?” Nick’s thoughts took a nosedive. He had to fight to keep his voice down. God, he should have snuck her in the house. “Is she okay? Who’s this Matt guy?”
“I don’t know. He said she’s okay, just drunk, and he didn’t want to try to put her on his motorcycle, but he didn’t want to leave her alone, and there was another guy yelling in the background—”
“His motorcycle?” What the hell had Quinn gotten herself involved in?
“I don’t know.” Adam’s voice was tense with worry. He paused. “I don’t have a car.”
Oh. So that’s why he’d called.
“I’ll go get her,” Nick said. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Another hesitation. “If she needs a place to crash, you can bring her here.”
Guilt was jabbing Nick with a pitchfork. He should have brought her here. But Adam’s voice implied that he was no stranger to Quinn’s problems at home, either. “Your folks won’t mind?”
“I have an apartment. Give me your cell. I’ll text you the address.”
When Nick hung up, Gabriel was in the kitchen doorway. He was wearing sweatpants and an old T-shirt, and hi
s hair stuck up in tufts. “What’s going on?”
“Quinn’s drunk on the beach and needs someone to pick her up.” He glanced at the silent stairwell. “Cover for me, okay?”
“Sure.” Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, then rubbed at his eyes. “Let me put some clothes on. I can come with you.”
Nick opened his mouth to accept—then reconsidered. Gabriel and Quinn were like oil and vinegar. If she was already in a bad place, adding Gabriel to the mix would just make things worse.
Hell, Gabriel would probably pick a fight on the beach.
And honestly, Nick didn’t want him to meet Adam.
What the hell was he thinking? He shook it off.
“No,” he said, “I’m just going to run her over to her dance friend’s house.”
His twin was watching him. “You sure, Nicky?”
“Yeah.” His phone chimed. Nick glanced at it.
An unknown number, with an address. Then a second text.
You want me to go with you to get her?
Nick stared at that line a minute longer than he needed to.
Then he glanced up at Gabriel. “Don’t worry. Quinn’s friend is going to help.”
The air in the truck cab stung Nick’s cheeks and turned his breath to fog.
He needed to chill the hell out.
Adam was sitting in the passenger seat, his hands over the vents. “Cold tonight.”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for driving.”
Nick shrugged and found his mouth didn’t want to form words. He reached over and kicked up the heat a few more notches.
“Hey,” Adam said softly.
Nick almost didn’t want to glance over.
But Adam continued. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Earlier. You know.”
Nick wasn’t sure what the safe answer to that was. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling it stand up in tufts the way Gabriel’s had back in the kitchen.
What had Quinn said? Identical on the outside, polar opposites on the inside.
“It’s cool.” Even his voice sounded strangled.
But Adam took that at face value, turning his head to look out at the night. They drove in complete silence until Nick realized he was going to have to turn on the radio or talk.
Music didn’t seem like a good idea.
“Do you think she’s all right?” Nick said. “Did that guy seem—”
Adam didn’t look away from the window. His voice was resigned. “He said she’d been ranting about some guy named Nick all night, and then she drank half a bottle of tequila and passed out in the sand. He said my number was the first one in her contacts.”
Shit.
Adam glanced over. “You two have a fight?”
There was absolutely no way Nick could break it down, right here and now. So he just shrugged noncommittally.
Adam bristled. “Look, if you have a problem with me—”
“I don’t.” They came to a stop light, and Nick looked at him. The street lights shined through the windshield and caught the caramel highlights in Adam’s skin, painting embers in his hair.
Nick rubbed his eyes and looked back at the road. “I don’t have a problem with you at all.” He paused. “Quinn and I—we had a misunderstanding. I was trying to help her, but she slammed the door in my face.”
“How long have you been seeing each other?”
“Couple weeks.”
“I’d ask if it was serious, but I think I already know.”
Nick frowned. “What does that mean?”
“If a girl’s slamming a door on you two weeks in, it doesn’t exactly bode well for the rest of the relationship.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Nick sighed. Unfortunately, Quinn and drama seemed to go hand in hand.
The cab was starting to warm up. He reached for the controls to dial back the air—at exactly the same time Adam stretched out an arm to do the same thing. Their fingers brushed.
Nick jumped like he’d been stung.
Then he half-wished he’d left his hand there, just to experience the feeling for one millisecond longer. The touch had been light, brief, but long enough that Nick could imagine the softness of Adam’s skin, the gentle strength of his fingers.
He had to lock his hands on the steering wheel.
Adam managed to turn the heat down, but he was studying Nick now.
Talk. Say something. Anything.
“How did you and Quinn meet?” Nick said quickly.
“We met when we were kids. In dance class.”
“You’re really talented.”
The words were out before he could stop them. Nick winced. What was he, some teen groupie?
“Thank you.” Nick could swear Adam was hiding a smile now. “My parents tried to put me in martial arts, but I hated it. Apparently, I was a hyperactive pain in the ass, so dance seemed like the next best thing.”
“Quinn said you’re trying to get a scholarship. You think you have a shot?”
Adam shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. If I miss this time, I’ll try again. A little failure never hurt anybody. I know what I want to do with my life.”
Nick thought of that envelope smashed between textbooks on his desk. The one he was too afraid to open.
“What about you?” said Adam.
“I’m a senior. I’m throwing some college apps out there, seeing what happens.”
“What do your parents think?”
Nick was used to the question, but it still hit him like a punch, every time. He hated having to rehash it for strangers—but at least they were driving and he could keep his eyes on the road. “My parents died when I was twelve,” he said. “I live with my three brothers.”
Adam was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Really.”
Another moment of silence, until Nick was sure Adam was going to press for more information.
But then he didn’t. “So—what do your brothers think?”
Nick snorted. “Mixed bag.” He glanced over when they came to a traffic light, and it was a mistake. Because the windows were dark and the cab was warming up, and he wanted to keep on looking.
He quickly jerked his eyes back to the road ahead and focused on talking. “My older brother says he’s all for it—but I don’t know if that’s true or not. He runs my parents’ landscaping company . . . well, you saw the side of the truck. We all help him, but even still, he barely has time to eat. Losing one of us . . .” Nick just shrugged and didn’t complete the thought.
“What about your other brothers?”
“What’s with the twenty questions?”
Adam looked out the window. “I thought we were having a conversation.”
Yeah—if a conversation was like stumbling along a dark hallway, wondering what your hands would find if you reached out.
Then again, they weren’t talking about anything serious. He’d had more personal discussions with the cafeteria ladies.
Nick flexed his fingers on the steering wheel again and wished he’d brought Gabriel along instead.
No. He didn’t.
“I’m not going to jump you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Adam said, a shred of humor in his voice—but a shred of sadness hid there, too. “I promise, I have some self-control.”
“I’m not worried about it.”
“You look like a strong guy. You could probably fight me off.”
Nick cut him a withering glance, but his brain was all too willing to suggest images of what Adam was suggesting.
Stop it, stop it, stop it.
If the thought of college was enough to drive a wedge between him and his brothers, thoughts like these would hammer it home. He’d been fighting with this for years, and here one drive in the truck was about to undo him.
Nick drew a ragged breath. He wished for some traffic or something to steal his attention, but the highway was mostly deserted this late at night. He wished for different thoughts. Silence swelled in t
he cab of the truck again, taunting Nick to look at his passenger.
He didn’t. But he had to talk or he was going to make himself crazy. So he picked up the earlier conversations. “I think my younger brother—Chris—is waiting to see what happens if I leave. He might be thinking about college, too, but he won’t say anything until he’s sure about it.”
“The cautious type.”
Nick smiled. “Gabriel and I call him the brooding type.”
“Gabriel. Number three?”
That killed the smile. “Yeah. My twin brother. He says he doesn’t care if I go away to school, but I know he does.”
“Identical twin?”
“Yeah.”
“Niiiiice.”
Nick cut him another look, and Adam smiled. “Sorry.”
A street sign announced the park entrance, and Nick hit the turn signal. The gates were closed and padlocked, so he parked on the side of the road. He’d been here before with his brothers, dozens of times. He could find the path to the beach blindfolded. Good thing, too, since there were no lights overhead.
Wind was coming in from the water, just this side of too cold. Nick didn’t mind the sharpness against his cheeks, knowing his element would steal the warmth left over from his conversation with Adam. He asked the air for information, trying to determine if there was any sense of danger here.
But the wind only seemed willing to carry the scents of the night: the richness of the pine trees lining the road, the heavy scent of the distant sea, and whatever cologne Adam was wearing, something musky and warm, like oranges and cloves. Somehow it was stronger out here than it had been in the truck, and once his brain identified it, Nick wanted to get closer, to bask in the scent and bury his face in it.
No girl had ever affected him this strongly.
No guy had, either, but this was the first time he’d been alone with a boy he felt attracted to, and it was like his senses were trying to latch on to the opportunity.
A boy who thought Nick felt threatened by his presence.
Nick wondered what would have happened if he’d lost the defensive looks in the truck. If he’d sat in the cab for two minutes. If he’d—
Quinn, he thought. Focus on Quinn.
Right. His girlfriend. Who needed rescuing—both from boys and herself, apparently.
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