Chapter Nine

Ashton

Quinn wanted me to stay. This was so different than last time. Much different. This time he wasn’t going to be the one walking out the door, leaving me behind.

He continued to nuzzle against my neck. I felt safe. Secure.

“Again,” I demanded.

He grinned. “You’re voracious now that you know what you’ve been missing.”

I didn’t even care about the teasing. I felt free. He knew my deep, dark secret and he hadn’t rejected me. No. More like strutting around like a cock in the henhouse. So to speak.

Round two unfolded at a slower pace. There was no urgency this time. Tender, loving, but still so satisfying. I couldn’t get enough of Quinn Andrews. Which made the thought of leaving Florida so soon all the more painful.

I didn’t want to get attached to him. What if this is what all we had? Just sex. Toe curling, mind blowing sex. He had a life in Destin. I had my life in Atlanta. I wasn’t sure if it would work. Even if I wanted it to. As an independent woman, I didn’t relish the thought of a man holding all the cards.

When I thought Quinn had fallen asleep, I slipped out of bed. Unfortunately, all my clothing was still wet. I tried to find a t-shirt and shorts that I could borrow until I could get back to the hotel and take a shower.

I paused when I heard Quinn stirring. “Where are you going?” he asked, sleepily.

“Back to the hotel.”

He patted the bed. “Come back to bed. Sleep in. I’ll make us breakfast. Then I’ll drive you back to the hotel.”

It was so tempting to snuggle up to his warm body, sleep with his arms around me. “Okay,” I agreed. “But I need to get an early start tomorrow. Henri will be checking to see if we wrapped things up. I can’t let my personal life interfere with my job. Neither can you.”

I flashed him a smile as I crawled back in bed. He pulled the covers over our bodies and wrapped me tightly in his arms. Within minutes we were both asleep.

***

The next morning I awoke to an empty bed. My heart fluttered when I patted the spot next to me.

Cold. Empty.

My heart galloped a frantic rhythm in my chest. Quinn had left me again.

I wrapped a sheet around me, panting heaving breaths and walked through the small cottage. He wasn’t in the bathroom, living room, or kitchen. I peered outside on the pool deck. Nothing.

Then I remembered his grandmother. He had probably gone to check on her. My heart rate came back down to acceptable levels when I noticed Quinn had made coffee. And there was a note.

Gone to get bagels. Wasn’t much edible in the fridge. Help yourself to coffee. Be right back.

I poured a cup of strong black coffee and added a splash of hazelnut cream that I found when I foraged through his fridge. He wasn’t kidding. Such a manly assortment of beer, cheese and butter. Not even an egg to fry.

I wasn’t sure how long Quinn would be. My clothes were still damp so I rooted around his drawers and found an Ironman t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts, which were loose on me but I double rolled the waist. I took my cup of coffee and went outside. It was a sunny day, a little on the cool side, but I could smell the briny air of the gulf and hear the seagulls flocking around.

I inhaled a cleansing breath and just sat in gratitude for the beauty of the setting. The night. And the man. As I sat down at one of the patio tables, I heard the gate creak open. My heart surged when I realized Quinn was back for breakfast.

But I was surprised to see a woman walking toward me instead. She was a pretty brunette wearing a colorful maxi dress and beaded sandals. She carried a white bakery bag and two cups. She looked as surprised to see me.

“Oh hey.” She looked around as if she went to the wrong house. “Is Quinn home?”

I crossed my arms in defense as the unexpected guest took in my ruffled hair, old t-shirt with barely contained nipples sans bra, and day old makeup. “Um, not at the moment.”

Who was she? A stab of inappropriate jealousy rifled through my chest cavity. Did he have a girlfriend he hadn’t mentioned? Some kind of entanglement? I glanced around just wanting to get the hell off his property and out of this uncomfortable situation.

She dropped the bakery bag on the patio table and stuck out a hand. “I’m Cassie.”

I reluctantly shook her hand, not wanting to be rude when I had no idea who she was at this point. “Ashton Jansen.”

“I was just dropping off breakfast for him. He’s been working so much lately…and with everything going on with Nanna. I know he’s not eating like he should be…” Cassie rattled on. “He rarely has anything nutritious in his fridge or pantry.”

And how in the hell would you know that?

My mind raced out of control and the nausea bubbling up the back of my throat indicated that I’d made another horrible mistake. She knew intimate details about Quinn. I wavered between incredulousness and annoyance. How could he not tell me that he had a girlfriend? That little tidbit would’ve been nice to know before I dropped my panties for him again like some kind of redneck slut.

She sat down at the table and started to pull out muffins and croissants. “I would’ve brought more if I knew he had company,” she said with a twisted smile.

I stood up, suddenly feeling faint and unwelcome. “It’s okay. I was just leaving.”

Before Cassie could respond, I ran inside to get my bag. I realized I had no shoes and nothing to put my wet clothes in. Screw it. I’d have the hotel dry clean Quinn’s things and leave them for him at the front desk. It was the least he could do after he fucked me over for the second, devastating time in my life.

I heard the murmur of voices outside and when I emerged from the house, Cassie was talking to another woman. This one had on brightly colored scrubs adorned with Scottish Terriers. They both took in my disheveled appearance, barefoot, holding my evening bag. Without further conversation, I quickly exited the backyard and made my walk of shame to the street. Quinn’s Mercedes was gone. How long does it take to get breakfast? Or was that just an excuse to humiliate me without having to witness the fallout.

I wasn’t sure where the hell I was or how to get back to my hotel. I remembered Quinn telling me last night that we were only a few blocks from the restaurant. The restaurant was only a couple miles from the hotel. I saw a rusty beach cruiser bike leaning up against the garage. Without a second thought, I hopped on the bike and entered the hotel address in the GPS on my cell phone. Luckily, I was close.

I couldn’t even enjoy the sun kissing my face or the light ocean breeze ruffling my long hair. Nothing registered except the emotional turmoil that only he seemed to cause. No one gave me a second look as I pedaled my way back to the Flamingo Resorts.

Damn you, Quinn Andrews. You man-whore, two-timing piece of shit. How did the saying go? First time, shame on you. Second time, shame on me. I would not cry. I squeezed my eyes shut and stiffened my resolve.

There wouldn’t be a third.