Midnight Oil: Plaything #5

by Oliver, Tess

  My hand was shaky as I jammed the key in the lock. The door swung open before I could turn it. My key flew out of my hand along with the door handle. Tate was shirtless. I briefly did a comparison with the last shirtless man I saw and realized Tate had gotten soft and flabby in his time off work. He had dark rings under his eyes but I somehow doubted that had anything to do with him waiting up all night for me to come home.

  "What the fuck, Suzy? You've been gone all damn night. Why weren't you answering my calls? I was trying to let you know I was on my way to pick you up from work."

  "Oh really? Did you drive over to the dinner theater to look for me?" I pushed past him and put my purse down. Even though it was past noon, I was in desperate need of a cup of coffee.

  He never answered my question. I scooped coffee into the basket and switched on the pot, then turned around and leaned against the counter with arms crossed. "Since you haven't answered, I can only assume you never bothered to look for me."

  Tate walked into the tiny kitchen leaving little room between us. A look of contrition crossed his face. "Well, you didn't answer my calls or texts so I assumed one of your coworkers was going to give you a ride home."

  I reached for my favorite coffee cup, the one with the panda bear. "Yes, as a matter of fact a coworker gave me a ride home—" I left a dramatic pause to make certain he heard the rest of my statement. "To his place."

  His expression turned into stone. "What the hell do you mean his place?"

  The coffee maker beeped. I took my time pouring myself a cup while he breathed loud and hot like a dragon shooting fire through his nostrils.

  I took a sip of coffee, sighed and secretly marveled at how calmly I was handling this whole shitty thing. It was most likely because I had already resolved myself to this relationship being dead and over long before I reached the front door.

  "Hmm good stuff," I said about the coffee. "I figured since you were entertaining another woman here at the house, I could do what I like. And I like my coworker."

  The cold, hard expression sagged into stunned guilt. "What the hell are you talking about? I wasn't entertaining anyone, and who the fuck is this coworker? It's that fucking big shot with the Porsche. The asshole never takes his eyes off you. I caught him staring at you at the picnic, and I think it's time the two of us go toe to toe."

  I was startled to learn not so much that Quinn was always looking at me, I'd caught him occasionally gazing across a room at me or smiling over heads at me, but what I found hard to believe was that Tate had actually taken notice, that he had actually felt a surge of jealousy about it.

  I pulled myself back into the conversation and looked directly and confidently at him. It was amazing how unattractive he'd become to me. "I don't have to tell you anything about my private life because we are through. You and I are no longer connected in any way. Since I've been paying the rent on this place, you need to pack your shit and get out. Preferably by the time I get home from work tonight. That gives you over twelve hours. I think that's being generous with time."

  A short, dry laugh spurted from his mouth. "I'm not going anywhere." He turned and walked out of the kitchen. I'd been prepared for that exact reaction.

  "Then I'll pack my stuff right now." I carried my coffee cup out of the kitchen.

  "Fine with me." He plopped on the couch and held up the remote to change channels. "The house is in your name, so they'll be coming after you when the rent isn't paid," he said smugly.

  I stopped at the couch and seriously considered pouring hot coffee over his head, but I held back that urge. "Yes, it's in my name, and on the way home just now, I called the landlord and gave our thirty day notice. The house is paid until then, so I guess, once again I'm being overly generous because you don't deserve anything but a kick in the ass. Seems you'll have no choice except to find a job. Or maybe you could move back with your lovely mother, the tarantula queen." I leaned over the couch. "By the way, if you went toe to toe with him, you'd be wearing your couch sitting ass on your head."

  "Fuck you, whore," he barked as I walked down the hallway to the bedroom, feeling at least a smidge of satisfaction. Now, if I could just figure out where the hell I was going to stay while I sorted out my life.

  Thirteen

  Quinn

  Archer's big muzzle tickled my palm as he plucked the carrot from my hand. The Friesian was on stall rest for a week after his stumble in the theater arena. Since I had been the rider on his back, I felt somewhat responsible for his injury so I'd brought a five pound bag of carrots to work. The horse didn't seem to mind being on stall rest, especially when it meant fresh carrots.

  It had been an endless night of choreographed jousting, and I was glad it was over. I planned to head home, get mildly drunk and watch movies until my inebriation pulled me into a deep sleep. Suzy and I managed to successfully avoid each other, which helped stave off any awkwardness between us. I really hated the idea of awkwardness when it came to Suzy. It meant our friendship would be strained. Even if I couldn't have her in my life, the way I wanted, I hoped we could remain friends.

  The horses were housed in nicely built stalls that jutted off the back of the massive restaurant theater. I circled around the building to the parking lot. Most everyone had gone home for the night. The parking lot was empty except for the horse trainer's truck, my Porsche and Suzy's little, beat up sedan. I looked back toward the exit. There were a few lights on near the rear of the building.

  I could just get in my car and drive off. She had a car this time so she had a ride home. But what if fuckface had refused to move out? Some friend I was. I'd been avoiding her all night, when I should have sought her out to make sure she was all right. When she left my house this morning, taking a little sliver of my heart with her, she was heading home to confront her awful boyfriend. I'd seen the bruise on her hip. She claimed he was responsible but that he hadn't hit her. He was, without question, an asshole.

  It wasn't like her to be staying late alone. I headed back around to enter through the barn area where the trainer was checking on the animals before going home. It was the easiest way back through to the main area of the building where the employee locker rooms were located.

  The jousting and dinner arena looked giant when it was empty. I crossed the arena and headed through the door that would take me to the locker room. Light glowed through the small window on the women's locker room door. I peered through the glass. Suzy was sitting on the bench with a sweater pulled on over a light blue sundress. She rested her feet on a large duffle bag as she texted someone on her phone.

  I didn't want to startle her by barging into the room so I tapped lightly on the window. Her face popped up. It took her a second to recognize the big face peering through the glass. Her smile was my invitation to open the door.

  I popped my head inside. "Is the coast clear?"

  "Just me sitting here," she said. "The other girls have all gone home. Anyone in particular you were looking for?"

  Her question deflated my shoulders. "You, Suzy, I was looking for you. I know that's impossible for you to imagine, but I came here to find you. I saw your car and I wanted to make sure you were all right." None of the expected awkwardness materialized, but there was still more tension between us than before, back when I was just the guy who dated way too many of her coworkers and she was the girl who I admired from afar, waiting and hoping that someday she would come to her senses and leave her boyfriend. In that scenario, she dropped fuckface and came running to my open arms. Only I'd blown it by being just as much of a fuckface as Tate. Although I wasn't as big a jerk. Or at least I sure as hell hoped not.

  She lifted her phone. "Just waiting to hear back from a friend. I'm hoping I can camp out on her couch a few days until I get my life straightened out." There was a good dose of sadness in her pale blue eyes. I hated to see it. "You were avoiding me tonight," she said quietly.

  "No, not really," I countered lamely.

  "You always make a point of carving
out a few minutes to see me whenever we work the same shift. No matter how busy and hectic things are, you always stop by to say hello or give me a wilted daisy you plucked from someone's garden or a chocolate donut you saved from breakfast."

  I smiled and shook my head. "My gosh, no wonder I haven't wooed you. What a fucking dork I am bringing you daisies and donuts." I pointed at her. "Although, that one donut I brought you last week had sprinkles, so there's that."

  "And I enjoyed every last sprinkle on my break." She stood up and took a deep breath. "I'm glad you're not avoiding me altogether. I would hate to think we can no longer talk after our night together."

  "I was hoping the same thing. I'm sorry about all of it, Suzy. I'm sorry I'm such a fucking disappointment. I deserve every negative thought you have about me."

  She placed her hand on my arm. Her fingers were long and soft and warm. "No negative thoughts," she said as she lowered her hand. "Only positive ones."

  She stooped down to pick up her duffle. I shot my arm forward to take hold of the handle. My hand wrapped temporarily around hers and it seemed charges of electricity circled our fingers. I knew I was holding the hand of the woman I'd been wanting since I first met her. Unfortunately, she didn't see me in the same light.

  "I can carry the duffle out to your car." I lifted it. "Feels like you have your whole life in here."

  We headed through the dark building to the parking lot.

  "Pretty much my whole life. Which shows you just how pathetic that life is. The good news is that the bruise on my hip is less tender, so I was able to sling pints of ale without too much problem."

  "Your life is not pathetic." I stopped in the dark hallway and turned to her. It was a narrow passage and due to my size we were nearly pressed against each other. My typical thoughts went right to a vision of me pushing her up against the wall and sliding my hands underneath the sundress. My cock pushed against the fly of my jeans as I tried to shake the image from my head.

  I knew I was pushing myself to the limit but I took hold of her hand and kissed it. "Milady, you are far from pathetic. You are stunning and smart and funny and the sexiest damn woman I have ever met. And if I was a different person, a stranger just meeting you for the first time, I would use that chance to start over and show you just how much I could love you."

  Her eyes were glassy as if she was close to tears. She'd had an emotional twenty-four hours and looked ready to fall into a million pieces. She pressed her hands against my chest, a move that was meant to be casual but it set my pulse racing. "And if you were a different person I wouldn't like you nearly as much. You should never change for someone else, Quinn. I just learned that the hard way. I went out of my way to bend to what Tate wanted in a girlfriend. Somewhere along the way, I lost myself. But I'm determined to find the original Suzy again."

  In her own gentle way, she was telling me that she wanted to be left alone. I couldn't blame her. It sucked big time but I was going to respect her wishes. I peeled away from facing her. I could swear I heard the snap of static electricity as our auras separated. Or maybe I was only hearing that on my side.

  As we headed across the parking lot to her car, her phone beeped. She pulled it out and looked at it. "Shoot. My friend has her sister in town so there's no couch. As you probably surmised, I moved out, instead of Tate. I did give the landlord notice though, so with any luck, fuckface will find himself out on the street." She sighed. "Guess I'll be heading to my mom's after all. Oh boy is she going to grill me seven ways to Sunday about my breakup with Tate."

  I laughed. "I thought it was six ways to Sunday."

  "Not with my mom. Seven is being conservative. On the bright side, there will be a heaping plate of pancakes waiting for me when I go downstairs in the morning."

  "Not sure if it's a trade off for the grilling," I said, "but it can't hurt."

  We reached her car. She spun around to face me before opening the door. "I'm glad things didn't get tense between us, Quinn. I would have missed this."

  That's because we have something special. That's why I want to be with you, is what I wanted to say. Instead, I just nodded and smiled and told her to pop the trunk for her duffle bag. There was no way to deny that I was feeling past miserable about the reality that Suzy just didn't have romantic feelings for me. It was my first time on the other side of being hurt, and I was starting to feel pretty damn shitty about myself and the women I'd hurt. It seemed it was time for me to find myself too.

  I placed the duffle in her trunk. It was filled with boxes sealed with tape. I shut the trunk. She worked hard to put a roof over her head and now she had to give it up to the jerk. He never deserved her in the first place.

  "Thanks for carrying my bag." She smiled up at me from the driver's seat.

  "Anytime. And if you get sick of pancakes, you have a room at my house. No strings attached, I promise."

  She gazed up at me and a faint smile appeared. Her smile was always punctuated with one dimple on her right cheek. It was just one of the incredible details I'd memorized about her.

  "That's nice to know." She pulled her leg into the car and I shut the door. I walked to my car. Headlights lit up the lot as Suzy turned her car toward the exit. Mildly drunk or not, I was going to have a hard time not thinking about her tonight.

  Fourteen

  Suzy

  I reached a stoplight and took a few aggravating seconds to search for my mom's house key. It was attached to an old Mickey Mouse key chain. I'd left it on the key chain to remind myself that going home meant that, like a little kid, I couldn't hack it on my own. I tried more than once to convince myself that my new status of being homeless was not my fault. I had a house, crummy as it was, that was paid for all the way through next month. But I really had only myself to blame. I'd stuck with Tate for a good year longer than I should have. Somehow, I'd talked myself into being in love with him, but my feelings for Tate had turned around so sharply, I couldn't even think about standing in the same room with him, let alone sleeping in the same bed. As far as I was concerned, that chapter of my life was so completely over, it was as if months had already passed since I first saw the woman leaving our house and since I told him we were through.

  My fingers brushed over the cold metal Mickey Mouse key chain. I yanked it free of my purse and stared at it. After being out on my own for three years, I was heading back to my pink and white little girl bedroom. Mom was, no doubt, going to recite a long list of mistakes I'd made in the past three years that led to my humiliating downfall.

  I dropped the key in the console and cranked up the radio, hoping it would lift me out of my grim mood. I had no idea what the odds were that the first song playing would be CCR's Suzy Q, but they would have won me a nice payoff in Vegas. There was no way to not think about Quinn, on his first day of work, when he belted out a few verses of the song upon meeting me. All I could think was—wow, this guy is as confident as he is good looking. And his singing voice wasn't bad either. We became instant friends because of that unique first meeting. And, just as I'd mentioned to him tonight, after our initial introduction he always made a point of searching me out, even if it was just to say hello. He never missed a chance to talk. "Never," I said quietly beneath the din of the music.

  I pulled into the left lane and headed back the way I'd come. It was stupid and crazy and I was absolutely, definitely going to regret this in the morning. But my life was just out of sync enough that a little impulsiveness was easily excused. At least that was the argument I was going to tell myself after the full weight of regret sank in. But how much regret could there be. It was Quinn Armstrong, after all.

  I had expected to be a bundle of nerves and indecision as I turned onto the road that would eventually lead me to the top of the hill where Quinn's extraordinary house was nestled in the hillside, but surprisingly, I felt quite calm. That was until the notion set in that Quinn might have invited one of his many friends over to spend the night. Wasn't Zoe asking about hanging out?

&nb
sp; I drove up the long driveway. The garage was closed, and there were no spare cars parked out front. For all of five seconds, I considered turning back around and leaving. "Damn it, Suzy, grow a pair. Just go up to the door and knock. What's the worst that could happen? An incredibly gorgeous woman could answer dressed in skimpy lingerie. That's the worst, I think. It certainly wouldn't be a shocking surprise. Then I could just apologize and slink away to my pink and white room and pile of pancakes. So stop talking to yourself and do this, Suzy."

  I climbed out of the car. Motion lights went on over the front porch, illuminating the entire front yard. I hurried to the front steps. I had never done anything like this, but I was going to go for it. Hopefully, a leggy blonde in a skimpy nightie wouldn't answer the door.

  I rang the bell. There was a long enough pause that I quickly drummed up an image of Quinn being yanked out of a moment of passion by his front doorbell. He would just ignore it then, wouldn't he? God, I hoped he would ignore it. I considered knocking but talked myself out of it. He wasn't coming to the door. I'd psyched myself up for nothing.

  I was just about to turn around when the front door opened. He was wearing only a pair of low slung shorts on his hips and no shirt or shoes. He looked like a giant package of heartbreak, but I'd come this far . . .