Unconventional

by Isabel Love

  The shutter sound snaps him out of his reverie, and I try to pocket my phone nonchalantly, but I’m not fast enough. “See something you like, Red?” He smirks.

  “I couldn’t help myself, you look like a little boy in here. It’s cute.”

  “Cute?” He spits the word, scowling. “I’m not cute. I’m hot, sexy—badass, even, but not cute.”

  I laugh at his outrage at being called cute. “Well, hate to break it to you, badass, but just then you looked pretty damn cute.”

  “Whatever,” he mutters, holding his camera up to his face to take a few pictures of the sea turtles.

  We walk around the zoo, stopping at various exhibits. Columbus has an amazing zoo and I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve never been here before. The animals are interesting, but I have to say that my favorite part is watching Charlie and his reaction to the animals. Hours pass easily as we stroll hand in hand, joking and laughing.

  “Hey, are you hungry?” he asks as we pass the food court.

  “Yep. Want to eat here before we go?”

  “Sure.”

  We choose pizza and grab a table outside.

  “Let’s play a game,” he suggests.

  “What game?” I ask as I take a bite of the cheesy goodness.

  “When I was younger, Dom, Tabby, and I used to love to people watch. We’d always try to guess what they do for a living.”

  “You’d guess their profession just by looking at them?”

  “Yes.” He chuckles. “It involves a lot of stereotypes and assumptions, but it’s fun.”

  “I think I’m going to suck, but okay, let’s do it. You first.”

  He scans the tables and zeroes in on a young woman dressed in khaki pants and a white polo shirt, her brown hair combed neatly back into a high ponytail. She’s smiling brightly at the older woman next to her and exudes a friendly disposition. “Her.” He nods. “She’s a schoolteacher. She just graduated and teaches kindergarten.”

  “Not bad, hotshot. I can totally see that.”

  “Your turn,” he says as he takes a bite of his slice of pizza.

  I look at the surrounding people, trying to guess at what they might do for a living. Nothing strikes me as obvious until I land on a muscular man wearing gym shorts, tennis shoes, and a baseball hat with a picture of a dumbbell on the front of it.

  “Him.” I nod in Muscle Man’s direction. “He’s a personal trainer.”

  Charlie nods and smiles at me. “You’re getting it.”

  “What do you say we create a different version of this game?” I give him a naughty smile.

  “What do you have going on in that dirty mind of yours?”

  “Well, guessing professions is kind of fun, but what about if we guessed what they’re like in bed?”

  “You mean during sex?” Charlie raises his eyebrows in interest.

  “Yes. Let’s take your kindergarten teacher, for example. I bet she’s a dominatrix.”

  He laughs so hard he snorts. “Her?”

  “You laugh all you want, but it’s the quiet ones that often surprise you. I bet she’s into hardcore BDSM.”

  “What about Mister Muscles?”

  I study the handsome, well-built guy. “I bet he could be her submissive.”

  We both look at the two people across the room from each other and bust up laughing.

  “I don’t know if I believe you, but I like your version of this game better.”

  “I’m full of good ideas.”

  “Yes, you are,” Charlie agrees.

  “Speaking of good ideas, I think it’s time to go paint.”

  “You want to go paint, huh?” Charlie pouts.

  The sight of those lips pursed so prettily makes me want to lean forward and kiss him.

  So, I do.

  I lean forward in the middle of the food court at the zoo, and I kiss his lips.

  It’s a soft peck at first, but then Charlie puts his hand behind my neck and brings me back for a second kiss. This one’s longer, his tongue slipping into my mouth to tangle with mine, and I can’t help but melt into him, inhaling in his scent, relishing in his touch.

  Charlie smiles into my mouth and mumbles, “Okay, you convinced me. Let’s go paint.”

  How did this happen?

  CHECKING MYSELF OVER IN the mirror one last time, I deem myself worthy of meeting Quinn’s family and the assface ex-husband. I opted for what my parents would call “country club casual” attire—khaki pants with a navy button-down—so I won’t be underdressed or overdressed. I know Quinn said to just be myself, but I can be myself and look good at the same time.

  I must admit, I’m curious about her family and where she comes from. I never would’ve dreamed that her parents are ultraconservative and disapproved of her divorcing her cheating ex-husband.

  Me: I’m on my way, be there in 15.

  Red: Sounds good, see you then.

  When I pull up in her driveway, I don’t remember driving here—I was so lost in thought that autopilot took over. Quinn opens the door wearing a powder blue sweater and a long navy skirt that swishes over the tops of her feet. The sweater is so soft, I can’t help but reach out and touch her, petting her shoulder and upper arm.

  “Mmm, you wore this on purpose, didn’t you?”

  “On purpose?” she asks, confusion making that adorable wrinkle on her forehead pop out.

  “So I’d keep touching you. Don’t you know you don’t need a soft sweater for that? I already can’t keep my hands off you, now it’s just going to be worse,” I mock complain, leaning forward to gather her body close to mine and kiss her. “Did you miss me?”

  She chuckles. “Oh, absolutely I did. For the whole two hours since I saw you last, I missed you terribly.” She’s joking, of course.

  What’s pathetic is that I actually did miss her. Even after spending the day together yesterday, first at the zoo and then at her house. Even after spending the night inside of her. Even after waking up with her and showering with her and eating breakfast with her.

  Even though we were only apart for two measly hours.

  I still missed her.

  Fucking hell. What is happening to me?

  “You ready?” I ask her, trying to regain some control over my train of thought.

  “Yes, let’s do this.”

  Quinn gives me directions to her parents’ house and we’re there sooner than I expected. She looks at the front door with a scowl on her face, like she’s no more excited to be here than I am.

  “You’re going to pay me for this in orgasms, right?” I leer at her, trying to distract her from her thoughts.

  She turns to me with a playful smile. “Seriously? I didn’t give you enough orgasms over the last couple of days?”

  I chuckle. “Nope. I want more.”

  “Yes, Charlie, sex fiend that you are, I’ll owe you more orgasms after this.”

  “Sounds good.” I reach over the center console for her hand. “I got your back, Quinn. You ready to go in there?”

  She takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and then nods.

  We make our way to the front door and she rings the doorbell. An older version of Quinn—minus the red hair—answers the door. She has the same brown eyes, the same freckles dotting her skin, and the same frame as her daughter. They’re very similar, but her eyes don’t shine with mischief, her smile isn’t playful, and her hair is dark, almost black.

  She looks from Quinn to me, a frown on her face. Did Quinn not tell her she was bringing me? I flash her my most charming smile, hoping to start off on the right foot. Moms usually love me.

  Though I haven’t met many girlfriends’ moms, Anna’s mom loved me all those years ago, and Max’s mom and Logan’s mom love me.

  “Hi Mom, this is my friend, Charlie. Remember I told you I was bringing a date?”

  Manners force her to shake my hand. “Hi there, Mrs. Fitzpatrick. Nice to meet you.”

  “Charlie, is it? Hi, I’m Nora.” She gives me a small
smile then focuses her attention back on her daughter.

  “Quinn, you know Reid is here. This might make him uncomfortable.”

  What the actual fuck?

  Quinn stiffens beside me. “Seriously, Mom? You make me uncomfortable by inviting my ex-husband. Charlie is with me today. Do you want us to come in or not?”

  Good girl. I wrap my arm around her waist, letting her know I’m right here, ready to stay or go, whatever she wants to do.

  Her mom’s frown deepens and she wrings her hands together. “Come in, of course.” She opens the door and steps aside to let us pass.

  Their house is modest with dated furniture and wood paneling on the walls, but the food smells amazing and my stomach rumbles at the aroma.

  “Your father made pot roast with potatoes and carrots. I hope you like that, Charlie.”

  “It smells amazing,” I tell her honestly.

  I get the first genuine smile from Quinn’s mom, albeit small and brief.

  People are talking in the next room. As we round the corner, I see a middle-aged man with dark hair, a thick beard, and fair skin talking with a very pretty girl and some other guy who I assume are Quinn’s sister and the douchebag. Quinn’s sister looks just like their mom, too, and the douchebag looks just as smarmy as I thought he would. He’s tall and skinny with brown hair slicked back (who the fuck wears their hair that way, anyway?) and brown eyes that laser in on Quinn and track her movements, lingering on our joint hands.

  He totally wants her back.

  “Hey everyone.” Quinn waves to the room with one hand while the other is still linked with mine. “This is Charlie. Charlie, this is my sister, Shannon, my dad, Liam, and my ex-husband, Reid.”

  I shake everyone’s hand, squeezing Reid’s a tad more forcefully than necessary. He smiles pleasantly enough when he shakes my hand, but his eyes narrow in on me, as if warning me to stay away from his girl. Ha! I was balls deep in her just this morning.

  After the introductions are over, I turn to Quinn. “You mean to tell me you are the only one in your family with red hair?” I touch her wild, curly locks, loving how soft her hair is.

  “Ugh, tell me about it.” She rolls her eyes, as if she’s disgusted with her hair.

  “She gets it from our grandmother,” Shannon informs me.

  “It’s beautiful,” I tell her. Her expression softens at my compliment and I take the opportunity to make smarmy-pants jealous by pulling her into my side and kissing her temple. I linger, burrowing my nose in her hair and taking a sniff. She smells of something I can’t quite place but it makes me salivate all the same. Quinn wraps her arm around my waist, melting into me and holding on tight.

  I check our audience. Reid is glaring at us—me in particular—and disapproval tugs Mr. Fitzpatrick’s mouth into a grimace, gaze bouncing from us to Reid with worry. Shannon looks at us with a small smile on her face. Seems about right.

  “Well, is everyone hungry? The food is ready,” Quinn’s dad grumbles, motioning to the dining room.

  Everyone murmurs their agreement and makes their way into the dining room while Quinn’s mom brings the food in from the kitchen. I keep Quinn by my side as the room empties and when we’re finally alone, I kiss her. Her mouth is delicious and it makes me forget this tense atmosphere. I’m used to feeling like an outcast at my family functions, but I want to distract her from her family drama. I take the kiss from respectable to porn-worthy, tilting her head with my hands so my tongue can reach inside. Mmm.

  “Hey,” I say quietly, “you know what I’ve been thinking about?”

  “What’s that?” She looks up at me.

  I put my lips right at the shell of her ear. “Fucking your ass.”

  “Charlie!” she exclaims, eyes darting around us to see if anyone could hear me.

  “Calm your tits, Red. No one can hear. But after we leave here, we’re going to my place and I’m going to take your ass.”

  “What if I don’t want to?” she whispers, smirking up at me.

  “Trust me, once my tongue and fingers are done with that tight little hole, you’ll be begging for my cock.”

  Her pupils dilate, her cheeks flush, and her nipples pebble with desire. She may sass me back, but she likes my dirty talk.

  “Now come on, let’s get through this shit show. When it gets tense in there, just think about what your reward is when we leave.” Without waiting for a response, I tug her into the dining room and we take our places.

  An awkward silence stretches while everyone fills their plates with food. It does smell delicious, and my stomach rumbles despite our company.

  “So, how long have you guys known each other?” Shannon asks, a friendly smile on her face.

  I turn to Quinn, trying to calculate the time.

  “About eight months,” she answers.

  Has it been that long? My eyebrows go up at the realization. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. We met before Max’s accident.”

  “Max?” Mrs. Fitzpatrick asks.

  “Yeah, Monica’s boyfriend, Max. Remember when he was hit while riding his bike?” Quinn reminds her.

  “Fiancé, now,” I correct.

  “That’s right, I keep forgetting they’re engaged.”

  “Monica’s getting married?” Shannon asks.

  “Yep. Max is my best friend, and we met through Max and Monica,” I explain.

  “Oh, how wonderful for Monica that she found someone to spend the rest of her life with,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick says, looking at Quinn meaningfully. She just glares back at her mother.

  “I’m really happy for them. Max is devoted to her,” I say pointedly, looking at Reid.

  “And what is it that you do for a living?” Reid asks, looking at me like I’m a bug he’d like to smash with his shoe.

  “I’m a photographer,” I answer easily.

  “Charlie works at Picture This. He’s one of the most requested photographers on their team,” Quinn tells everyone. Warmth blossoms in my belly at the pride in her voice—or is she just trying to stick it to Reid? Either way, I’m not accustomed to anyone bragging about my career other than Max and Logan, and it feels good to hear someone talk about my job in a positive light instead of a negative one.

  “Oh, I’ve heard of Picture This,” Shannon chimes in. “How cool that you’re both artists. Have you seen Quinn’s studio?”

  “Studio?” Reid asks.

  “Yeah, she doesn’t need to rent a studio anymore, she has one in her place,” Shannon explains to him.

  It’s then that I realize the place Quinn lives in now is the place she got after her divorce, so Reid has likely never been to her condo. I like the fact that I’ve fucked her in almost every room but he hasn’t even seen it.

  “I’ve seen her studio, it’s amazing,” I say, looking over at Quinn, remembering how just last night we painted together again. In the same way that Quinn put a sexy spin on my guess stranger’s profession game at the zoo, I put a sexy spin on painting. My rule was that we had to paint naked, and it was very…inspiring. My thoughts drift further back to the very first time we painted together and I used a paintbrush on her pussy. Fuck, that was hot.

  She holds my gaze and her cheeks flush, telling me she remembers exactly what I’m remembering.

  “Charlie’s a talented painter, too. Suzanne’s going to sell his pieces at Art Redefined.”

  “I don’t know about that…we have yet to see if anyone will buy my first piece,” I protest.

  “It’ll sell. Suzanne was sure of it.”

  “And how old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?” Mrs. Fitzpatrick asks me.

  “26,” I report.

  “Me, too,” Shannon tells me. “When is your birthday?”

  “November 8th.”

  “Mine is November 25th! We were both born in November, how about that?”

  “So you’re six years younger than Quinn,” Reid helpfully points out. Give the man a cookie for being able to do basic math.

  Quinn�
��s parents keep looking from me to Quinn with a frown. Not this age thing again.

  “How’s work going at the studio?” Reid asks her. It’s the first time he’s addressed Quinn directly.

  “Fine,” she says with hostility while glaring at him. “Not like you ever cared before,” she mutters.

  “Are you making more money than you used to?” Reid asks.

  Quinn stiffens beside me, as do I. What the fuck? That was way out of line. I don’t know exactly how much Quinn makes, but I know she does well for herself and lives comfortably selling her art. I’m waiting for her parents or sister to defend her, but Quinn doesn’t wait for anyone to jump to her aid.

  “My income is none of your concern.” Her tone is ice.

  “Just making sure you don’t need any help.” Condescension is in his every word, yet Quinn’s parents seem pleased by his comment, giving him a small smile. My fists clench and I hope I get to talk to this asswipe without any company at some point.

  “Nope.” Her lips pop the P sound.

  “So Shannon, Quinn tells me you’re a musician?” I attempt to redirect the conversation. Shannon smiles at me and excitedly tells the table all about her recent gigs and studio time. Quinn relaxes next to me and I give her a pointed look, trying to remind her about our previous conversation. Having finished my food, my hand drops to her thigh and I squeeze her leg, hoping my touch will help to distract her.

  CHARLIE’S PRESENCE SHOULDN’T FEEL so comforting. The way he stiffened at my parents’ and Reid’s inappropriate comments shouldn’t make me feel like he’s on my team. The way he changed the subject when I was about to launch myself at Reid and claw his eyes out when he asked me about my income shouldn’t have made me relax. His ill-timed promise to fuck my ass when we leave definitely shouldn’t have lit me up inside, distracting me from my fucked-up family.

  But…

  Having Charlie here does all of the above.

  My parents are NOT on my team, not even a little bit, and Shannon means well, but she hates confrontation, so she tends to get quiet instead of coming to my defense.

  Charlie, though, hates Reid on principle. I could tell he was irritated with my mother’s comment at the front door when she said his presence would make Reid uncomfortable, and when Reid asked if I was making more money than I used to, I saw his fists clench as if he was ready to tackle him to the ground and beat him to a bloody pulp. He could, too—I bet Charlie outweighs him by 50 pounds of muscle.