Cheat Codes (Dawson Family Series Book 1)

by Emily Goodwin

  Being together.

  “I love grilled cheese,” she says with a smile.

  “I remember.” I slide the plates to the opposite side of the island counter where we can sit on the high-backed bar stools. “Cheese and Chinese food are your favorite. Not necessarily together, though now I’m wondering what fried rice would taste like topped with cheese.”

  “I’ve never tried it.” She gets the water bottles from the living room, coming back and sitting next to me at the counter. “But now I want to.”

  “Maybe for breakfast,” I joke and Quinn laughs.

  “Thanks for making me a sandwich.”

  “You’re welcome, though it was easy.”

  She takes a few bites, looking from her food to me every few seconds. “So…it’s late,” she says after she’s eaten half her sandwich.

  “It is.”

  “And you have to be up early.”

  “I do.” I swallow the food in my mouth and grab my water, slowly twisting the cap off, and try not to think ahead. I fail. I think and plan ahead by nature. I risk a quick glance at Quinn. She’s looking at me at the same time, and we both look away.

  How can she be shy around me after two rounds of mind-blowing sex?

  “Are you going to stay?” she finally asks.

  “Do you want me to stay?” Answering her questions with a question irritates her, I can tell.

  Her eyes narrow ever so slightly in a two-can-play-this-game sort of way. “Do you want to stay?”

  “Depends on if you want me to.”

  She purses her lips and leans back with a sigh. I close my eyes in a long blink and look away, hating the tension that’s creeping back up on us. I like her. I’ve liked her for years. Years. So why the fuck is it so hard to tell her that?

  She picks the crust off her grilled cheese, neither of us talking. A sleek white cat jumps up on the counter, trying to steal food from Quinn’s plate. She picks the cat up and puts her down, only to have the cat do the same thing again. And again.

  “Luna,” Quinn says sternly. “Stay down.”

  “Luna, Bellatrix, and Neville…are your cats named after Harry Potter characters?”

  “Yeah. The fourth cat is Lily.” Quinn gives up and goes to the pantry to give the persistent cat a treat. “You like Harry Potter?”

  “I do. I’ve seen the movies and read the books, because I know you’re going to ask.”

  The smile comes back to her face, but it’s not the same one as before. I’m back to feeling like a jerk and am getting afraid it might be too late. We just had sex—twice—and I’m acting like none of it mattered. If only she knew how much it did. How much it always has. “They’re modern classics.”

  “Yeah, they are. Obviously, I’m a fan.”

  “I got sorted into Ravenclaw. I did the quiz online.”

  “I got Gryffindor.”

  “It suits you.” I finish the rest of my sandwich. “Quinn,” I start and turn around. She’s back at the counter, picking at her food, but hasn’t sat back down yet. She’s uncomfortable, thinking I’m looking at this as a one-night stand and is trying hard not to let it show.

  “I do want to stay. With you.”

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

  I internally wince. “If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t. Just like I wouldn’t have asked you out to dinner if I didn’t want to spend time with you.” I wipe my hands on a napkin and pick up my plate, taking it to the sink before Luna comes back. My heart thumps inside my chest and I’m cursing myself for putting this distance between us after we’d come so close. I need to fix it.

  “You’re not going to make me sleep on the couch again, are you?” The second the words come out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back. My failed attempt at a joke makes Quinn’s face go slack.

  “I, uh, I wasn’t going to but, uh…”

  “I’m joking,” I say and go to her, pulling her into my arms. Her body is stiff against mine, worlds different than how we were not long ago. I’m smart. I got into Duke University School of Medicine for fuck’s sake. How is it possible I’m such a complete idiot at the same time?

  It’s Quinn, and I’m not blaming her for turning me into a bumbling fool whenever I’m around. It’s either this or shut her back out.

  Fuck.

  There was a reason I hated my psych rotation. I’m not good with feelings in general. I’m even worse when it comes to my own.

  “I would very much like to sleep in your bed next to you,” I tell her, gathering her hair to the side of her neck. With each passing second she doesn’t relax, I feel like I’m losing her. “I want to wake up next to you,” I say softly, letting the honesty she likes so much come out. “And I’d like to take you out to breakfast. And then dinner again after the conference is over.”

  “I do like eating.”

  “Yeah? Me too.”

  “So much I do it every day. Sometimes multiple times a day.” She clasps her hands around my shoulders. “Out of context that could sound a bit dirty.”

  I kiss her neck, remembering how incredible she looked with her hand between her legs touching herself. “I like thinking about it the dirty way.”

  Early morning light shines through the large windows in Quinn’s bedroom. My alarm sounds and I scramble to turn it off, not wanting to wake up Quinn. She looks fucking adorable in her sleep, buried under her thick blankets. I was hot five minutes after snuggling up with her, but wouldn’t change a thing.

  Quinn stirs but doesn’t open her eyes. She rolls onto her back, hand going up on her pillow above her head. It physically hurts to keep my eyes open, but I want to remember this moment the best I can.

  Losing the battle against sleep, I fall back and doze off. What feels like seconds later, the snooze alarm sounds. Blindly, I reach out on the nightstand for it.

  “Archer?” Quinn says quietly, voice thick with sleep. Her eyes flutter open and she smiles when she sees me. “Do you have to get up?”

  I slide my arms underneath her and pull her close. Her head rests on my shoulder and she hooks a leg over me.

  “I don’t have to.”

  “You can’t skip your…your…whatever that thing is.”

  “I only came here to talk to Dr. Crawford about the fellowship, which I did. He’s not there today anyway. I’d rather stay here and give you a thorough medical exam. Hone my skills that way.”

  “Well, that does sound educational and I’m very willing to help you expand your areas of expertise.” She pulls the blankets around her shoulders. “Or go back to sleep. You can do a sleep study on me.”

  “I like the way that sounds.” I let my eyes fall shut, head dropping to the side to rest against Quinn’s. All the awkward tension melted away the moment we got into bed together last night. We didn’t have sex again, but the moment we laid down together, things felt back to how they should be.

  The world feels right when Quinn is in my arms. Her fingertips dance up and down my arm, lulling me back to sleep. And then my snooze alarm goes off again. Dammit. It’s a habit to just hit it again instead of turning it off. I didn’t actually intend on not showing up to the panels I signed up to attend, but if I ‘accidentally’ forgot to turn on an alarm, no one could blame me.

  Quinn sits up, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “I can make you breakfast.” She runs her hand down my chest, fingers brushing over the tip of my cock, teasing me on purpose. “Go back to sleep. You didn’t get much last night and I kind of feel responsible.”

  “You didn’t get much either.”

  “Yeah, but I can take a nap after you leave. I’m assuming I’ll need my strength for later, right?” She bites her lip, looking so damn sexy.

  “Fuck yes.” I wrap my arms around her and bring her to me, giving her a quick kiss before she gets out of bed.

  “Turn your alarm off. I won’t let you oversleep.”

  I watch Quinn leave, admiring her ass in her short sleeper shorts. With her on my mind, I lay down
, falling back asleep in minutes.

  “Archer?”

  The mattress sinks down next to me and the sweet smell of maple syrup fills my nose.

  “Archer,” Quinn repeats softly.

  I open my eyes, and her face is the first thing I see. Yawning, I push myself up. “Breakfast in bed? You know I’m never leaving now, right?”

  “That was ultimately my plan. Lure you in with food and sex then hold you hostage and kill you.”

  I take the tray from Quinn, stomach growling at the sight of the pancakes, bacon, and eggs. “As long as I get to eat all this and fuck you one more time, I’ll die a happy man.”

  Quinn smiles, brushing her hair back. “You said it’s over at two?”

  “Yeah. Will that work with your kidnapping plan?”

  “I was hoping to have you tied up and bleeding by one, but I can delay things a bit. It’ll give me more time to get the kill room ready.”

  “Kill room? You are serious.”

  “I’m a serious person, Archer. Which you’ll find out later.”

  I cut into my pancake. “When you kill me?”

  “You’ll be begging for death by the time I’m done with you.”

  I laugh and put the piece of pancake in my mouth. They’re good. Light and buttery and the exact same recipe Mrs. Dawson uses. I used to think it was weird how everything she made was from scratch because what’s the point of all that pre-made stuff you can conveniently just add water to if you’re not going to use it?

  “Want any?” I ask her, seeing as she’s not eating.

  “No thanks. I don’t like eggs, and I already ate a ton of bacon while waiting for the pancakes to finish.”

  Nodding, I pick up a piece of bacon and pop it into my mouth. Quinn stretches her arms out in front of her and lies back against the pillows.

  “When do you go home?”

  “Tonight,” I say, and the word is like a punch to the gut. “My flight is at five-thirty.”

  “Oh.” Quinn looks down, and we’re both thinking the same thing. Our desire for each other smoldered over the years, sparking here and there but never getting hot enough to ignite.

  And then it exploded into a wildfire.

  The thing about wildfires is they burn bright and they burn hot, but eventually, they die out.

  14

  Quinn

  I’ve shaved every piece of unwanted hair off my body. I’ve plucked and tweezed, applied makeup only to take it off and do it again, and re-curled my hair three times.

  But I’m not trying to look good for Archer Jones.

  He saw me in my natural element yesterday at work wearing office attire and my hair in a ponytail. And then he saw me in all sorts of ways last night, and it’s not like I woke up looking like an Instagram model or something.

  I take my sunglasses off my head, and my hair gets stuck. Yanking it free, I put them on and pay my fare as I get out of the cab. It’s nice out today, a little breezier than yesterday, but the air is humid and the wind is welcome.

  Archer texted me not long ago and said the convention was over, but the medical director from a big hospital invited him out for a drink at the hotel bar. He didn’t think it would take long and was too good of an opportunity to pass up. I encouraged him to go, because that hospital happens to be in Chicago and, for selfish reasons, I’d love Archer to get a job in the city.

  I look through the crowd of people and somehow see him right away. He looks up at the same time and smiles as soon as our eyes meet.

  “Hey,” I say when we meet. He stops just inches from me and takes me in his arms, dipping me back a bit for a kiss.

  “Hey to you too.” He runs his hands over my arms. “What’s this?”

  “Oh, I got you something.”

  “You did?”

  “I got it on a whim. I saw it at a market I walked through and thought—well, just look at it and you’ll know.”

  He takes the shopping bag from me and opens it up, pulling out a wool fedora. Looking it over, I worry he won’t get it.

  “Is this an Indiana Jones hat?” he asks.

  “Yes!”

  “I like it.” He smiles and puts it on, and even Harrison Ford would be jealous. “But, uh, why?”

  I lean back, staring at Archer like he just asked what color the sky is. “You’re Dr. Jones. Please do not tell me no one has ever said ‘okey-dokey Dr. Jones’ to you.”

  “It’s surprising now that you’ve pointed it out, but no, they haven’t.” He pulls me in and kisses me again. “Wait, there’s an Indiana Jones market going on?”

  “No, just some weird guy at a pop-up selling hats. He told me I had nice feet.”

  Archer chuckles. “I guess you do, though, in that dress, it’s hard to look past your tits.”

  I shimmy and wiggle my eyebrows. “That’s the point of a pushup bra.” We break apart and Archer takes my hand, moving down the sidewalk. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “I assumed so. We can get the famous Chicago pizza you like. Oh! Or try fried rice with cheese. What are you in the mood for?”

  “Other than you? Pizza.”

  “I knew it. And good, because I made us a reservation.”

  I grab my lemonade, sliding it in front of me, and take a drink. Even with the wind, the walk from the hotel to the restaurant was a warm one. I’m sitting across from Archer, and we’re waiting on our pizza to come. Neither of us has said much, and the conversation ceased halfway here.

  I don’t get it.

  We were so great before. Even better after. And now…it’s weird again, like neither of us knows what to say. Probably because we don’t, and trying to talk about it is going to be really freaking awkward. He lives in Indy. I live here. Eastwood is in the middle, and while I have a good reason for making the trip as often as I’d like, he doesn’t.

  He and Dean keep in touch, but they don’t hang out like they used to. And Archer works so much.

  “Have you and Dean started planning the bachelor party yet?” I ask, needing to say something before things go from bad to worse.

  “We’ve thrown some ideas around. Vegas was one of them.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  “What about the bachelorette party?”

  “I’m not sure I’m invited. I like Kara, and I think it’s mutual. What’s not to like, right?” I joke and Archer laughs. “But she’s down there and I’m up here. Plus I don’t know her friends.”

  “I thought people in small towns knew everyone.”

  “Oh, I know who they are. They’re older than me so we never talked in high school or anything. And then I left and never went back.”

  “You said you like it here, didn’t you?”

  I nod. “I do. Despite the high crime rate, it’s progressive and fun and I’ve made some really good friends here.”

  “That’s good.”

  I sip my lemonade again, wondering how long it’s been since we ordered that pizza. Archer leans back in the booth, looking out the window.

  “If you make the drive to Eastwood, you’ll have to, uh, let me know.”

  “Yeah. I will.” He puts one hand on the table, drumming his fingers. He wants to say something but is nervous. It’s kinda cute. “I’m not sure when it’ll be though.”

  “I figured as much. I know you’re super busy with work and you haven’t come up in, what, years?”

  “It’s been a while.”

  “It’s nice you guys are still friends. Not a lot of people stay friends that long.”

  Archer’s brow furrows. “Yeah. He’s been a good friend.” He looks at me, inhales, and opens his mouth to speak. I know the words about to come out will hurt. I brace myself, expecting him to remind me how I’m Dean’s little sister and how he regrets everything that happened last night and how we can never speak of this again.

  That sleeping with me was a mistake.

  “Quinn!” a familiar voice calls before Archer can get a word out. I turn toward the sour
ce and have never been so grateful to see an ex-boyfriend before in my life.

  “Jacob, hi,” I say as he starts to make his way over. Okay, maybe I’m not so grateful to see him. The server at the table next to us moves, and Archer comes into Jacob’s line of sight. He almost comes to a halt when he sees him.

  Geez. It’s been over a year since we broke up. Poor guy needs to move on already. It’s not like we had a great relationship anyway. It wasn’t bad, not at all. He treated me well and was respectful, but there was no passion. No fire. No drive.

  We got along. Have similar interests. The sex was okay. I only faked it a few times.

  But it was nothing like last night. Jacob doesn’t get under my skin and annoy me so much I want to slap him across the face one minute, and the next have me cooking him breakfast so he can get a few extra minutes of sleep.

  “Quinn.” He settles his gaze on me for a few seconds too long before turning to Archer. “Dean’s friend, Archer, right?” He holds out his hand for a handshake.

  “Right.”

  “I have to ask” —Jacob starts— “is that an Indiana Jones replica hat?”

  Archer gives me a half smile. “I think it’s supposed to be. Quinn got it for me.”

  “His last name is Jones,” I explain. “And he’s a doctor. Get it?”

  Jacob let out a forced chuckle. “I do. Dr. Indiana Jones. You were always clever, Quinn. It’s one of the many things I like about you.”

  And now things just got awkward again.

  “I’ll let you two enjoy your meal. See you Monday morning, Quinn.” He goes back to his table.

  “Did you date him?” Archer asks.

  “Yeah, for a few months.”

  “And he works with you?”

  I shake my head. “Not at the same company. I design software and he builds robotics. Our companies work together a lot, which is how we met and why we’re doing a project together now. So fun to work with an ex.”

  “He’s still hung up on you.”

  “I know. I feel bad.”

  Archer looks puzzled. “Why do you feel bad about that?”