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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?”
