“Sounds good, smelly.”
He sighs. “You’re a menace.”
My laughter is the last thing he hears when I hang up and walk over to the bar. I set my phone on the counter, along with my refresher drink, and take a seat. “Looks like I’m going camping next weekend.”
“Here.”
I look up and take the bottle of water being offered. Quinn drops into the chair beside me, off to the side and away from everyone being all coupley.
This isn’t the first time I’ve thought I should just leave. Usually, I don’t have a problem being odd man out in this group, but tonight feels different. I glance across the fire and see Oaklee sitting on Cade’s lap, practically making babies. I mean, they’re not doing anything inappropriate, but the constant cuddling, kissing, and subtle touching tells me there’s going to be a lot more going on in their tent later than sleeping.
Yuck.
Then there’s Camden, who invited Laura Fischer. She seems nice, but I heard all the bad stuff about her after they went on a date or two last year. Apparently, she falls hard and fast and was planning their wedding within a week. Why he invited her is beyond me, other than the fact he also wants his dick played with tonight.
Something else I’m trying not to think about.
Gross.
Wyatt came down to the fire for a bit, but he had a date. Sommer chose not to come, since she works, so that leaves Quinn and me, off to the side and away from the couples.
“You okay?” he asks, staring at the fire.
“Yeah, why?”
He lifts his shoulder and takes a drink from his own water. “You’ve just been quiet. Very un-Charli-like.”
I roll my eyes, even though he’s not looking at me. “Just tired. Been a busy week,” I tell him.
The truth is I still have problems sleeping. I toss and turn, despite being completely exhausted by the end of the day, and then when I finally find sleep, dreams of Quinn fill the time. I wake up frustrated, grumpy, and horny. It’s a terrible combination.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him roll his neck. “You good?” I ask. It’s been a few weeks since his massage that resulted in this minor obsession I suddenly developed for him. A crush, if you will, and I’m most definitely not happy about that either.
“Fine.”
I sigh as I catch him shift in his seat. “You should make another appointment,” I encourage, unable to keep the edge from my tone. It’s not that I don’t want to help him—I do—I’m just not sure I can trust myself to keep it professional while he’s on my table.
He clears his throat but doesn’t reply right away. I’m about to ask him what’s up when he finally says, “I had one today.”
My back goes straight and my irritation grows. “What?”
He exhales, and I can practically feel the tension ebbing from his body. “I went to see Selena today. That’s why I’m a little sore.”
My mouth drops open and a wave of hurt slams into me hard. “Why?”
He turns to face me, keeping his posture casual and his voice down. “I just figured, you know, with everything that happened between us, you wouldn’t want me to schedule with you.”
“I can be a professional,” I insist, feeling angry at the latest development.
He sighs and lifts his hand. I swear he’s going to touch me with it, and must realize what he’s about to do, because he quickly lowers it back down to the arm of his chair. “Well, maybe I’m the one who can’t be professional.”
My throat is suddenly thick and it’s hard to swallow. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” he replies, turning back to face the fire. “So I thought it’d be best if I just went to see Selena.”
I don’t say anything for several minutes, trying to wrap my head around what he said. He doesn’t trust himself in that situation. While it’s a professional one, our history suddenly turns it very intimate, especially with his lack of clothing and my hands all over his body. It wouldn’t be easy to do, but I’d get through it, much like I did the first time.
“If you’re ever in a pinch, I can help,” I state.
