“Just between you and me. Got it.”
I’m glad we’re on the same page but hearing him actually say the words feels…heavy. I mean, I don’t want to run and telleveryone what just happened, but when you have great sex, I feel you should be able to tell your people, you know? If I’m being honest, I’m calling Sommer as soon as we leave here. I’ll keep it from Lizzie and Oaklee, but only because I’d never want to put them in an awkward position of keeping something from my brothers.
And this is something I’d want them to keep from them.
Rocking back on my heels, the awkwardness settles around us, and I know it’s on me to get through it. I move to the front entrance, making sure I have everything off in the salon before stepping outside. Quinn follows me, and I secure the building. I suck in a greedy breath, only to start coughing once more. I’ve been doing so well today, only coughing a few times and mostly when the mucus catches in my throat.
“Go home and rest, Charli.”
I look over at Quinn and only find concern in his eyes. “I will.”
“Do you want me to follow you and carry the bedding inside?”
“No.” As tempting as it might be to lean on someone for a minute, it seems unnecessary for him to make the trip to my place, just to carry in some laundry. I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself, and maybe I just need to make more trips so it’s not so heavy.
He nods, though he does look like he wants to argue. “Oh. Wait.” Quinn heads for his truck, which is parked behind my SUV, hatch still up from when I put the dirty bedding inside. Man, it’s a good thing we live in a small, fairly safe town, because I pretty much just left everything wide open.
While Quinn roots around in the back seat of his truck, my eyes drop down to his ass. His perfect, round, hard ass, and then memories assault my brain all over again as I replay what we just did inside.
Before I realize what’s happening, Quinn turns around. My eyes are still cast downward, so when they finally return to his face, it’s clear he caught me checking him out. The smirk confirms it.
“Here.” He holds out a bag with weight to it. “I wasn’t sure if you had time to go get more or if you even needed it, but I was gonna drop it off on my way home.”
I already know what’s in the bag without looking.
Grape Gatorade.
“Thanks,” I reply, suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed by his continual thoughtfulness and desperate for a little distance.
He turns and closes his truck door, and that’s when I realize he’s got a back seat full of groceries. “Shit, your groceries.”
He shrugs and steps off the curb to head for the driver’s side. “It’s fine, Charli.”
“Yeah, but they might be ruined,” I state, mentally doing the math on how long we were inside. Anything frozen is probably well on its way to defrosting, and I’d be a little concerned for refrigerated items.
Before he disappears around his truck, he glances over his shoulder and offers me a panty-melting grin. “Worth it.” Then, with a wink, he adds, “Have a good afternoon, Charli.”
Just before he climbs into the cab of his truck, I hear him whistle.
Whistle!
And instead of being irked to the fact he’s being aloof—exactly as I asked him to be, I might add—all I can think about is his lips and the vibrations his happy little whistle is creating.
My core throbs.
Stupid man.
No, that’s not entirely accurate.
Stupid woman.
“I did something bad,” I whisper the moment Sommer answers my call.
“Do I need bail money or a shovel and tarp?”
Her words catch me off guard. “What? You’d do that?”
“Bail you out, or help you bury the body? Well, the answer is yes to both. You’re my bestie. That’s what we do.”
