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Chapter 13
JIMMY
The door to Thelma’s condo swings open, and I tense as I am confronted with Quinn, standing in the middle of the doorway, looking sharp in a suit. Fuck.Doeshe live here? Why did he get changed into a suit after the gym? Are they going out for dinner?
“Who is it, Grady?” Thelma’s voice floats through. My teeth grind together as Quinn doesn’t even look over his shoulder to speak with her.
“Someone to see you,” he replies, sounding amused, staring me dead in the eye. Weird prick.
He steps back, letting me inside, and I’m not too proud to shoulder-barge him on my way past. Despite his frame being slenderer than mine, he’s a solid monolith, barely moving as I shoulder-check him.
I swear the fucker bites back a smirk, closing the door behind us. He follows me into the condo, taking a seat in the living area, his eyes glued to us like we’re a Mexican telenovela.
Thelma is standing in her kitchen, a bowl of salad and a glass of wine in front of her, staring at me in shock.
“Jimmy?”
Fuck this. I can’t have this conversation with her possible new boyfriend watching or whatever weird shit gets him off. Rounding the kitchen island, I snatch Thelma’s hand, throwing a glare at Quinn’s smug-as-shit face as we pass through the living room to the hallway.
“Jimmy? What are you doing?”
Shit. I can’t take her into the bedroom. That’s a weird place to have this conversation. Instead, I step into her small office, kicking the door shut behind us.
Thelma crosses her arms over her chest, pressing her lips together as she stares at me.
“What are you doing here?”
I mirror her stance, a foot away from her. “Who is Quinn to you?”
Her eyebrows shoot up, and she shuffles her feet. “Uh, that’s none of your business.”
“I’m making it my business.”
Her mouth drops open. “That’s not how this works.”
“Yes, it is.”
Throwing her arms up in the arm, Thelma glares at me. “You didn’t want to date me.”
Oh, so this is some weird revenge thing? “You said you didn’t want to date me either.”
“Of course I did. What should I have said? Oh, that’s a pity you don’t want me because I want you?” She scoffs and rolls her eyes as I narrow mine. That is a different conversation for us to have had. But it’s not the one we did have.
“You should have said the truth.”
Rolling her eyes again, Thelma shrugs. “I did. I’m not looking to date anyone. Least of all you.”
So who the fuck is the prick in the suit supposedly living with her, sitting in her living room right now?
“Then what’s Quinn doing here?”
Thelma’s cheeks turn pink, her feet shuffling again. “I told you, he lives here. At least, for now.”
“Why?”
“That’s my business.”
How are we back here to me being stonewalled? I haven’t gotten one single straight answer out of her. She’s right. She is a fucking good lawyer. She’d make a phenomenal politician if this line of questioning is anything to go by.
