With a grin, I give her a wink, my hand briefly resting on her shoulder before I move to the seat beside hers. “Wasn’t sure you were really going to show,” I tease, chuckling at her obvious nervousness as she fiddles with her sunglasses again, putting them on before immediately taking them off.
“I said I would,” she says, narrowing her brow at me.
My smile widens. “So why are you so nervous?”
“I’m not nervous,” she immediately says.
My gaze drops to her hands as I cover them with one of mine, not missing the jolt of electricity that shoots up my arm at the contact. “Yeah, you are,” I murmur, lifting my eyes to hers. “You don’t need to be nervous, Quinn.”
“I’m not,” she asserts, shaking her head a little as if to make a point.
“Okay,” I reply, winking again as I lift my hand from hers. “So, you hungry?”
“Starving,” she replies, and I laugh, Quinn immediately blushing.
“In that case,” I say, handing her a menu. “We’ve come to the right place because this here is the best brisket on the island.”
Quinn takes the laminated page, her eyes laser-focused on it as she swallows hard. I shouldn’t tease her like this, especially if I want a genuine shot at getting her into my bed, but it’s damn hard not to. Especially when she gets so easily flustered. And is so adorably fucking cute about it too.
After we’ve placed our order and I’ve paid, pushing Quinn’s offer of cash away as I ignore her protests to split the bill, we take our drinks back to the seats overlooking the ocean.
“So, how long are you here for?” I ask. Quinn casts a sideways glance at me that has me laughing as I ask, “What?”
She smiles, shaking her head as she says, “Nothing.”
“So,” I prompt, rolling my hand as if to indicate I’m still waiting for an answer.
She takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly as she turns back to the water. “I’m not sure yet.”
I tilt my head, still watching her even though she isn’t looking at me. “You don’t have anything to get back to? A job? A boyfriend?” I ask, wondering if that’s why she turned me down this morning, because she isn’t actually available for any of the things I want to do with her.
Quinn huffs out a laugh, turning to face me as she asks, “If I had a boyfriend, would that stop you?”
“Stop me?” I ask, feigning confusion.
She laughs again, pointing a finger at me as she smirks and says, “The pickup lines, the flirting, the whole trying-so-hard thing.”
Now it’s me laughing. “I’m trying hard?”
She lifts a brow, her smirk deepening as she hits me with a look and says, “Really?”
Chuckling, I prop my elbow on the counter, turning sideways so I’m facing her. “Well, if you had a boyfriend, Quinn, the answer is no, I wouldn’t be trying anything. I’m not that kinda guy.”
Something flashes across her face at my words, a look I can’t decipher and one that I think she wishes I didn’t see as she turns back to the ocean. I don’t say anything more, just wait, my eyes roaming over her profile as she stares out at the waves.
She’s wearing a tight red tank and cut-off jean shorts, black flip-flops on her feet, and although to me she is still so obviously a tourist, a part of me can’t help but think how right she looks too, sitting here at one of my favorite places.
Eventually, she shakes her head in one slow movement as she murmurs, “No boyfriend.”
A slow smile curves my mouth as I lean closer, my arm sliding along the back of her chair, my mouth at her ear as I whisper, “Well, in that case, all bets are off. Friend.”
Our food arriving saves Quinn from having to respond to my comment, but it’s better that way. At least that’s what I think until we start to eat.
The brisket here is fucking good, but so is the corn and the fries and the BBQ sauce-covered ribs. I’d ordered some of everything, and as I sit here watching Quinn eat, I’m struggling to remember how to chew and swallow my own food.
Because every time she licks some sauce off her fingers, my dick gets hard.
And she licks her fingers a lot.
