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Quinn jerked her head up and saw Mara Paxton making a beeline for her, weaving gracefully through the Friday happy hour crowd.
“Hey girl! You look great!” Mara beamed as she pulled Quinn into a hug.
“Thanks, uh… you too.” Quinn cursed herself for sounding so stupid. After two years of Travis, her conversational skills were sorely lacking.
“I’m glad you called me. Clint is working this weekend, some out of town client he has to see. It gets so boring without him around.”
“Can I get you a drink?” A cute bartender put a napkin in front of Mara.
“Sure gorgeous, I’ll have a rum and Coke.”
“No problem.” He nodded, checked that Quinn’s beer was still full, and went to mix Mara’s drink.
“Rum and Coke at an Irish pub?” Quinn asked.
Mara grinned. “I like what I like.” She shrugged and pointed at Quinn’s dark Guinness. “And I definitely don’t like that.” Her face twisted up as if she smelled something bad.
“Here you are.” The bartender put Mara’s drink down in front of her, winking at Quinn. “Let me know if either of you ladies needs anything.”
Mara gave Quinn a “he’s so cute and he’s totally hitting on you” look that Quinn promptly ignored. Yeah, he was good looking, dark hair, green eyes, nice body from what Quinn could see, but picking up a guy in a bar? Too cliché for her, not to mention scary.
Holding up her glass, Mara smiled at Quinn. “To new friends.”
“I can drink to that.” Quinn grinned, clinking her beer with Mara’s rum and Coke.
“So, what’s it like working with all those hot, ripped guys? I bet you can hardly focus on your job, what with them half-naked and sweaty all the time.”
Quinn snorted beer through her nose, coughing and sputtering until Mara handed her a napkin with a wicked grin on her face. “Jeez, Mara. Don’t do that to me while I’m drinking!” Quinn giggled as she mopped up the mess.
Mara laughed, her eyes sparkling with humor.
“Anyway,” Quinn said once she caught her breath, “I’m in the front lobby ninety percent of the day. I don’t really see much of the guys unless they’re coming or going.”
Plus, the only guy I want to ogle is one I can’t get involved with.
Mara frowned. “That sucks. Getting to check out the goods has got to be the best perk of working there.”
“I don’t know. I kind of like being out front. Fighting…” Quinn hesitated, trying to find a way to describe her feelings without insulting Mara’s husband, “it’s just too violent for me, I guess.” She shrugged. “Not my thing, really.”
With wide eyes, Mara gaped at Quinn. “Seriously? You work at an MMA training facility and you don’t watch the fighting because it’s too violent?” She chuckled. “You’re a trip, Quinn.”
“Yeah, I know,” Quinn said dejectedly. “Hey, I was curious about something. Something about one of the guys.” She shifted on her barstool, uncomfortable to bring this up but determined to get the answer to her question.
“Shoot, girl.” Mara leaned closer, obviously interested in whatever juicy gossip Quinn was about to dish.
“Well,” Quinn felt her face heat up but pressed on, “do you know why is Rick called Ricochet?”
Mara’s beautiful face split with a wide grin. “Are you crushing on Rick, Quinn? Because he’s totally gorgeous. I could easily see you two together. God, you’d be the hottest couple ever!”
“What? No!” Quinn said a little too vehemently. “No, I’m not crushing on him. He’s been friendly, as in just friends,” she clarif
ied when Mara gave her a knowing look. “Honestly. We’re just friends. I wanted to know the reason for his nickname, that’s all.”
“Oh, okay. You’re better off as friends with that boy anyway.” She lifted a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “He’s not known for sticking around, if you know what I mean. He “ricochets” from one bed to another, hardly takes his shoes off before he’s out the door and on to the next girl. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.” Mara made little air quotes around the word ricochets.
The thick, dark beer Quinn consumed suddenly felt heavy and gross in her stomach. Disappointment was her initial reaction to Mara’s description of Rick as a player. Not that it was a surprise, heck, she heard about his reputation from his own mouth that day in the break room. He was hot, single, and could pretty much get whomever he wanted. It wasn’t long before anger replaced the disappointment. It seemed that every single man Quinn came across was a total douche. She was so sick and tired of douches. But with Rick, it seemed like there was more to him than the slick player he portrayed. An unfeeling ass wouldn’t bring a stranded woman to the grocery store.
“Good thing we’re just friends then.” Quinn dropped some money on the bar, feeling suddenly brave and if she would admit it to herself, a little vengeful. If Rick was going out every weekend, why was she sitting at home alone pining for him? She raised a hand to flag down the cute bartender.
