Chapter Six
KINSEY
“For the record, I vote that this is the worst idea in the history of bad ideas,” Miller grumbled, raising his hand to knock on the door and then dropping it and shoving me into his place. “You do it.”
“Some man you are,” I grumbled back, trying to remind my body, my heart, and my brain that this wasn’t real, that we weren’t really in a relationship, that if he was on my team, he would be the crappiest teammate ever because when I was at my most vulnerable he abandoned me.
Mix that in with all of the hurtful things he said to Jax while he thought I was in the bathroom, and I was just done with trying to figure out whatever was between us. Ready to toss in the towel and stop with the farce. But then I’d seen the concern in Miller’s eyes, heard the concern in his voice, and knew that my brother, the guy on the other end, needed me to keep up with it.
And while it was completely asinine. I was doing my part in keeping his mind on what he could control—by allowing it to be me.
And even though it physically hurt to let anyone control me, it was different when it was done out of love—and not fear.
I shivered.
“You gonna do it or what?” Miller’s gruff whisper hit my right ear, making my right leg shake, and my entire body light on fire with awareness.
“Yup.” I nodded then knocked again. “I just, I mean we were friends in college, I’ve seen her a handful of times over happy hour, all I know is she’s single, super pretty, smart, and oh, who am I kidding, I barely know her, but he needs a date, otherwise his entire focus is going to be on you and me, and he’s going to be able to tell that I—”
Miller stiffened behind me. His hands ran down my arms, causing an involuntary shiver to run through my body. “He’ll notice that.”
“Can’t fake that.” I jerked away from him. “It’s lust, it’s not like I spent my summer screwing every guy available like some people.”
“I don’t screw guys.”
“Whatever,” I hissed. “You know what I mean!”
“I’m sorry.”
I was so stunned he said the words that my jaw dropped, just as the door jerked open. Harley was wearing low-cut boyfriend jeans, black combat-style boots, an off-the-shoulder white shirt, and a hat that said, “Emotionally Unavailable.”
Miller whistled.
She was drop-dead gorgeous with fiery red hair and electric-blue eyes, barely wore any makeup except mascara and lip gloss, and would make any insecure girl want to throw herself off a cliff.
She was also one of the most independent people I knew.
Which was the reason I had called her in the first place.
And begged her to come when I hadn’t hung out with her in weeks not because I didn’t enjoy her company, but because I’d been overseas and she was an athletic-gear model who traveled the world and did yoga on sandy beaches—she really didn’t look the part. In fact, she looked more like the type of girl who’d be the lead singer of a rock band.
“What?” She shrugged. “You guys ready to do this?”
Miller held out his hand. “I’m Quinton—”
“Yeah, I know who you are, I own a TV, and I also saw a really racy picture of you guys on the news.” She winked. “I think it’s safe to say even my grandma knows who you are, and she’s blind in her right eye. Let me grab my coat.”
“Great.” Miller exhaled. “That’s not weird at all.” He turned his gaze to me. “You’re absolutely sure your brother didn’t send you any warning texts that he was going to kill me?”
“Not one.” I frowned. “It’s all so disappointing, if you ask me, I mean what relationship doesn’t need a little spice?”
“A little spice is a sex shop. Jax’s version of spice is a machete.” Miller shook his head. “Big difference between those spices, Waffle Girl.”
“Waffle Girl?” Harley reappeared, coat in hand.
“Ignore Chicken, he’s upset his cock didn’t get out of the henhouse this morning.” I patted Miller on the shoulder. He sent me a seething glare. I winked.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Miller said aloud.
“Chin up.” I gripped his hand. “At least his focus won’t be on killing you. And you say I’m heartless.”
We glossed over his apology, which had only been minutes ago.
I wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or disappointed.
Because for one second, he actually sounded like he meant it.
Better that I ignore any sort of apologies on his behalf—Quinton Miller as a man whore and annoying friend/pretend boyfriend was easy to handle. Quinton Miller as a man who was sorry, a man who looked at you like he meant it, like he wanted to prove it . . .
Well, no woman would be able to deny that.
And I was weaker than most.
After all, I’d already slept with him twice in one night, with full knowledge that he’d most likely freak.
I just didn’t think the freak-out would include him packing my bags for me.
I cringed.
“You okay?” Harley asked.
“Never better,” I lied.
We all walked to the car in silence.
Miller drove even though I begged for the keys.
And I tutored Harley in all the ways she was going to win Jax over and distract him from all the stress in his life.
I just hoped it worked.
My phone vibrated.
Mom: Dad wants to see you on Monday. He should feel better by then.
Finally. I exhaled a breath of relief.
Me: I’m there.
Mom: He’s excited, just . . . be prepared.
For what? I wanted to ask. For him to look sick? I didn’t give a damn if he looked like a skeleton, he was my hero, and every hero needed a sidekick.
I didn’t realize the car had stopped until I heard a door slam.
When I looked up, Harley was already walking toward the restaurant.
And Miller was staring directly at me, his blue eyes searching mine for answers I knew I wasn’t ready to give.
Why I was sad.
Why it hit home so much.
Why Jax was so overprotective.
Miller was perceptive, so I had to bank on the fact that his look was one of genuine concern and nothing more.
“What?” I reached for my seat belt.
He pressed his hand over mine, holding my hand there. “Something’s wrong.”
Not a question. A statement.
“You mean other than my dad having cancer?” I snapped, then hung my head.
“Kins—”
“I’m hungry and you’re trapping me in the hot car.” I gulped, the forced smile hurting almost as much as the lump in my throat.
“Kins—”
“No.” I licked my lips. “You know, before Vegas, we were friends, right?”
“Right.” His eyes didn’t leave mine. “I’m pretty sure you forced the friendship but whatever.”
I knew he was teasing, but my armor wasn’t up.
So, instead of laughter, I felt more tears well in my eyes, threatening to spill onto my cheeks.
“Shit, Kins.” He unbuckled my seat belt and pressed his hands on either side of my face. “I was joking.”
I tried to fight his grip but he held tighter.
It felt so good.
Too good to be held, to breathe him in and think about nothing except the way he made me feel safe in his arms, when I was so terrified of everything crumbling down around me.
“Friends,” I whispered. “Maybe when nobody’s watching we can just do that . . . and forget about the in-between.”
“The in-between being the two times I’ve seen you naked and given you multiple orgasms while you screamed my name and bit my shoulder with your teeth—that in-between.”
My face heated. “Please.”
His chest heaved; he sucked in his bottom lip, then released it, and my body responded with alarming need to do the same thing—only with his lip, not mine, to make sure it tasted as good as I remembered. Maybe I needed some form of sick reassurance that despite the chaos around me—Miller’s taste was still the same.
A safe place.
That wasn’t really safe at all.
“Please,” I said it again. I swore I’d never be the victim again when it came to a guy—and yet with Miller I’d let myself be the kicked puppy, the girl he shoved away, the one he took—and discarded so easily.
Maybe Anderson was right.
He’d said I was lucky to have a guy like him, that I was useless, trash, a stupid cheerleader.
No.
I shoved the thought out of my mind.
And that reason right there was why I couldn’t do this, not with Miller. I could pretend for cameras, pretend for my brother so he thought I was safe from Anderson’s clutches, but being with Miller in private—no matter how much I craved it, how easy it would be.
Would kill me.
It would kill any piece of myself I still had left.
The strong pieces that Jax gave back to me were constantly at battle with the weak ones Anderson had tried to infuse into my psyche. I refused to let him win.
“Kins.” Miller’s forehead touched mine. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“Pardon?” Awesome. Perfect. What every girl wants to hear. “You never meant to hurt me when you came over to my house, packed my bags, and didn’t as much as look at me while you dropped me off at the freaking airport? You may as well have kicked me out of the country with a pat on the ass, Miller! And I’m not that girl! I don’t sleep around, so don’t sit here all high and mighty in your expensive-ass car, with your heart on your sleeve, and tell me a bullshit line that every single girl in this world hears on a daily basis, when the same guy who screwed them into oblivion the night before suddenly decides he doesn’t want anything but a piece of ass. If that’s what you want—you’re more than welcome to find it elsewhere. Friends. Take it or leave it. And even now I feel like I’m being too generous. We’re doing this so my brother doesn’t lose his mind over my dad, and over the possibility that . . .” I stopped talking. I had to.
“That he might not recover?” Miller finished like he was questioning me.
“Just”—I jerked away from him—“play your part, and I’ll play mine, we’ll shake hands when this is all over, and if you kiss me again, ever, without my permission I’ll tell Jax all the other places you kissed without his permission and we’ll see where that leaves you . . . and the team.”
“And when I tell him you begged for those kisses, what about that?” He leaned in until his mouth was an inch from mine.
“That leaves you without two friends and a championship.”
He pulled away so fast I thought his head was going to smack against the driver’s side window. “Friends it is.”
He held out his hand.
His eyes met mine, a spark of electricity flared between us, so real, so heavy with meaning, that I gripped his hand. I needed his word. I needed to know he wouldn’t touch me, kiss me, tempt me, make me believe that he was willing to offer what he wasn’t even in possession of since losing Emerson to Sanchez.
When our fingers touched, I jumped.
He bit back a curse and dropped my hand so fast it hit the console.
“This isn’t going to work.” His smile was sad. “Is it?”
“Hell yes, it will.” I offered an encouraging smile. “You just need to be aggressive, B-E A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E about our friendship and not crossing any lines that have been put there for a purpose.”
“For the record, Kins, I can do that cheer by heart, and I mean everything, the moves, the clapping. I’m kind of a cheerleading pro.”
“We’ll see.”
“Why were you really crying . . . friend?” He emphasized the word loudly.
“I’m sad . . . because my dad could be dying . . . friend.”
“Then . . .” He sighed. “I guess all that’s left to do is this . . . friend . . .” He got out of the car, walked around the front, opened my door, pulled me to my feet, and wrapped his muscular arms around me. “Hug time.”
“Every hour?”
“I wish it was every half hour,” he complained.
And I laughed.
Hard.
So hard that tears started running down my cheeks. “You got my Trolls reference.”
“Come on, Flat-ass—you know how I feel about my animated movies.”
“Hey! I thought that nickname was gone!”
“Eh, I missed it.”
I swatted him on the chest and pulled away. “We should probably get in there before Harley decides my brother needs a smile on his face and ducks under the table to give him a reason to.”
“She wouldn’t . . .” He frowned. “Would she?”
“I may have encouraged all sexual advances. You were the one who said he needed to get laid!”
“Not during dinner!” Miller grabbed my hand and ran.
I laughed the entire way.
Like I would ever encourage Harley to do something like that—like any girl would ever need encouragement when it came to Jax.
For a guy who kept it in his pants, according to the female population he was walking, talking sex.
Yeah, tonight was going to be interesting.