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Wiser.
What a dumb thought. She wanted Logan and was trying to justify it, but no matter what she did tonight—walk away or stay—she’d have regrets in the morning. The only difference would be what she regretted.
He bent and straightened the blanket, sitting on it and looking up at her as he pulled a bottle of Jack Daniel’s from his pocket. “Drink?”
She almost shook her head and left.
Wiser.
Instead she sat next to him. He’d sit there by himself and drink the entire bottle and, as much as she knew she should probably leave, she couldn’t let him do it. Plus, it had been a long time since they’d been this close, and she wanted him. She’d forgotten the potency of his appeal when they were apart, living their own lives.
But up close with his bright, light blue eyes and strong, square jaw that she knew was a harbinger of his stubbornness, she couldn’t resist him. She couldn’t even pretend that she was going to leave the beach without having him. But she promised herself she was doing it on her own terms. Not his.
This was for her.
Quinn snatched the bottle from him and took a drink. She loved whiskey, which was why she resisted drinking it whenever she could. But it felt right tonight. She leaned back on her elbows after she handed the bottle over to him.
“The night sky on Nantucket always seems bigger and brighter to me. Especially out here. I remember the first time I visited...”
“I do too. You were so nervous to meet Gran and she immediately fell in love with you when you sided with her,” Logan said.
She smiled. Logan was used to bullying his way through life but his grandmother, though she loved him, wouldn’t have any of it. The two women had bonded over not taking Logan’s bullshit. That relationship was one of the things she’d missed when they’d broken up.
“Gran still thinks the world of you,” Logan said, as if reading her thoughts. “She’d love to see you.”
That was nice to know, but was there anything worse than an ex-girlfriend who didn’t move on? “We’re not a couple.”
“I know. I guess that’s why we are talking and drinking instead of hooking up.”
“Definitely.”
Talking and drinking.
It wasn’t what he wanted to do. He wanted dirty, mind-numbing sex. But he wasn’t interested in going back and finding another woman. He wanted it with Quinn. Only Quinn.
And she wanted to talk.
“What’s it like to work in television?” he asked, going along with her wishes. “I thought you wanted to direct movies and be the next Kathryn Bigelow.”
She took a sip of the Jack instead of answering.
“I thought you wanted to talk,” he said gently.
He had the feeling she wanted him to talk. He wasn’t going to. Maybe he’d feel like discussing this new half brother when he was dead, but probably not any time before that.
“I did. I do. That’s a complicated question. So TV... I like it. It’s pretty exciting doing destination weddings. There are always a million things that don’t go to plan, but it keeps me on my toes. And I have a travel series on YouTube...kind of a side hustle.”
He hadn’t realized she was a YouTuber. “Does producing not pay enough?”
“No, why?”
“You said ‘side hustle.’”
“Yeah, I don’t know. Seems like everyone has one now and I figured it was a way to monetize my downtime.”
He looked over at her. “You know a lot of people in my life give me crap for being a workaholic, but you pretty much just admitted to being one.”
“When you look at it that way, I guess, but the thing is, I’m at these really great locations and I sort of explore them with my drone camera and then do a voice-over... I know it sounds like work, but it gives me the freedom to create my own content, which is what I originally wanted to do. TV pays the bills, the YouTube stuff lets me make little mini documentaries. Does that make any sense?”
