The Beach House

by Jolie Campbell

  I glanced up and saw Julianne in the kitchen doorway, behind Elaine. She had a shocked look on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but I widened my eyes and shook my head faintly. She closed her mouth, gave me a concerned expression and backed out.

  CHAPTER 15

  I was still on edge the following afternoon. Elaine had gone out that morning without saying a word. Julianne was sure to ask what was going on, and I had no idea what to tell her. I didn’t want to go into it, didn’t want to be the one to tell her how bad the problem was, because she would definitely go to Dennis and Lauren with it. Obviously things were getting worse, but if Elaine was going to get into trouble, I wanted it to be on her, not because I had spoken up.

  Luckily the inn was quiet. No one seemed to be around, or if they were they were in their rooms. I still felt so raw, I didn’t think I could put my game face on just then. I was absentmindedly cleaning up after tea service, which had barely been touched.

  “Hey,” Quinn said, startling me. I jumped, then spun around to find him in the doorway that separated the living room from the kitchen.

  “Oh!”

  “Sorry,” he said quietly, approaching me. “Are you OK? Julianne said something weird happened here last night.”

  “I’m fine, thanks,” I said, not meeting his eyes. I couldn’t deal with him right now, and I had no idea what Julianne had told him. The last thing I wanted to think about was Quinn and Julianne discussing me. “Everything’s OK. Can I get you anything?”

  He grabbed my arm, right where Elaine had, and I winced. “You can tell me what the hell is going on here, Em. Right now. Julianne said Elaine hit you.”

  I pulled away from him. “Quinn, really. Everything is fine. Elaine wasn’t feeling well, and she took tonight off. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you and Julianne have better things to discuss.”

  “Don’t tell me not to worry about it,” he insisted, his eyes narrowing. “Why won’t you tell me what happened? You sound like an abuse victim, denying everything and making excuses for her abuser.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Quinn, that’s being a little dramatic, don't you think? I said everything is OK, and it is. Just drop it, please. Look, if you don’t need anything, I’m going to finish up my work.” I strode off, brushing past him to the doorway that led to the kitchen, but he stepped into my path.

  “I’m not going to drop it, Em. Is this why you’ve been avoiding me? Something is going on here that you don’t want me to know about?”

  “Christ, Quinn. I haven’t been avoiding you,” I said, throwing up my hands. “I’m busy trying to do a good job here. I’m worried about Mr. Matthews because he isn’t well, and I’m getting things together for your meeting coming up. There’s just a lot going on. Not everything is about you.” I turned away.

  He lowered his voice, but still sounded frustrated. “Come on. I know not everything is about me. I know you have a lot going on. I’m trying to be here for you and you’re pushing me away. I just want to know why.”

  I whipped around to face him again. “Why are you trying to be here for me? I work at the inn where you’re a guest. I’m supposed to be here for you. Making your breakfast, seeing to it that you have enough towels, and that you and Julianne are comfortable.”

  I hated how shrill I sounded, but suddenly I was so pissed off at Quinn, I couldn’t control it.

  “Why do you keep bringing up Julianne? She was worried about you, so-”

  “So what? So you two spent a few minutes of pillow talk discussing poor pathetic Emmy?”

  “Pillow talk? What the fuck?” He looked truly puzzled. “Julianne works for me. You know that. Why the hell would you think she and I are-”

  “I saw you with her. Outside your room. You were holding her, and then you took her inside. Look, it’s none of my business, obviously. Just forget it.”

  Humiliated, I practically ran into the kitchen. But he was right behind me.

  “Em, listen to me,” he grabbed my arm again and swung me around to face him, but I kept looking down. Tears stung my eyes.

  “Look at me,” he bit out. I kept my head down but flicked my eyes up to look into his.

  “There. Is. Nothing. Going on. Between. Me. And Julianne,” he was practically growling. “She got really upset when I told her how pissed off I was that she was interfering in my personal life, and she started to cry. In all the time she’s worked for me, I’ve never seen her get the slightest bit flustered before, so it took me by surprise. She said she has, I don't know, feelings for me. Whatever. The point is, next thing I knew, I was comforting her, even though I was still pissed as hell.” He sighed. “Is this why you’ve been acting so weird lately? You thought I was suddenly involved with Julianne?”

  He said it with such contempt, as though it was so obvious that I was wrong. That set me off all over again. “You know what? Screw you, Quinn.”

  His eyes widened. He let go of me, and he started to speak, but I kept going. “How the fuck is anyone supposed to know what’s real and what isn’t with you?" I seethed. "You flirt, you’re nice to everyone, but no one can get too close. Someone here can get fired for talking to you. You say you don’t want that, but you let it go on. You’re lying to everyone about where you are and why. Who the hell are you, anyway?"

  He just stared at me. Now that I had started, I couldn't seem to stop. “I know you've been enjoying playing with me, but I'm a real person,” I spat out. “This isn't a movie set. It's a pitstop for you, but this is my life. And I can’t-"

  "Playing with you?” he asked, incredulous. “Playing? Is that what you think this is? Some kind of game?"

  "No, not a game. I'm sure it makes you feel good giving your attention to people who adore you. I'm sure that pumps up your ego. Then you move on and leave the person with this happy memory of that one time they met you and what a nice, down to earth guy you were. A story to tell their fr—"

  Before I could finish, he pulled me to him roughly and kissed me, hard.

  I gasped, but I didn't resist. The anger from my tirade was still swirling around in my head like a storm, but my body just read it as passion, and I kissed him back with all that heat and emotion. My hands against his chest clenched, digging into his pecs. Sensing that I was responding and not going to shove him away, Quinn grew more aggressive, pushing me back against the counter.

  Slowly his kiss softened, became passionate and coaxing, while his fingers kneaded my hips. I couldn't keep myself from pressing against him. He groaned softly and his hand moved lower, brushing my ass.

  Panting, I pulled away. "I- I can't-"

  He looked at me, stunned and hurt, then looked away, still breathing hard.

  "You won't let yourself trust me," he said, sounding defeated. His hands closed into fists at his sides, as though he was fighting the urge to grab me again. I wanted him to, so much. “I’ve been waiting, trying to show you- Or am I not getting it? Do you just not want me? Is all this just an excuse to keep me away?”

  I stepped back toward him gingerly. He reached for my hand, threaded his fingers through mine.

  "This isn't a game to me," he whispered. "Or some kind of twisted ego boost. How can you think that? Don't you feel any of what I'm feeling?"

  We looked up at each other, and I saw the strain and emotion in his face. I could feel myself letting go, giving in to what I had been feeling all along. Not just a crush, it was real.

  "Quinn," I whispered. "I- I want to be with you. But I can’t do this here. Someone could see us. I don’t even know where Elaine is. She could walk in on-"

  Abruptly he tugged me down the narrow stairs toward the pantry, moving so quickly I nearly tripped. When we entered the tiny space I reached for the light switch with my other hand but he stopped me before I could reach it.

  "Quinn, what are you doing? I can't-"

  His lips were on mine before I could get another word out, his tongue stroking mine, slowly, seductively. He was gentler now but no less insistent.
A quiet moan escaped me as he pushed me up against the wall and pressed against me.

  I gasped. "We can't. What if—?"

  "Shhh," he murmured, pressing soft kisses down my neck. I was losing the will to fight him.

  "I just want a minute alone with you," he whispered in my ear, pushing back the hair that had escaped my ponytail. Heat surged through me at the feel of him so close, his lips tickling my ear, his hands stroking my neck. "Can you give me that? One minute? We’ve wasted so much fucking time."

  I was about to say no and push him off, but he kissed me again and grabbed my backside with both hands, pushing his body firmly against mine. I was lost, too turned on to stop.

  Feeling me giving in, he slipped his hands under my skirt to knead my ass and when the edge of one finger slipped into the crease, my knees weakened. He grasped me tighter and kissed me harder, his tongue thrusting. He pulled up one of my legs, hitching it around his hip. I could feel his arousal pressing against me, so hard, so hot.

  His hands moved to my breasts, squeezing. He tugged lightly on my nipples and, now beyond shyness, I grabbed his ass to pull him back against me.

  "Ah. Yeah, Em, that's it." He pulled up my shirt and shoved aside the cups of my bra, lightly pinching one nipple and bending down to swirl his tongue around the other.

  "Oh God," I whispered, now desperately rubbing myself against him. The pleasure was so intense, building and building, making my head swim. I slipped my hands under his T-shirt, felt him huff out a breath as I stroked over his straining back.

  He switched, taking my other nipple into his mouth and sucking, grabbing my ass again to help me rub against him. I was breathless from the sensation of him all over me, his hands and lips and tongue everywhere, warm skin and hard muscles under my hands, his sweet scent. As he straightened up, I bit down on his shoulder to keep from crying out. He squeezed me so tightly, running his big hands along my waist, up my back, down over my hips and then to my ass again as his mouth covered mine. All the while we were grinding together, the heat and friction growing stronger. I whimpered.

  "Em, God, I want you so much."

  He kissed my cheek, my neck, my shoulder, back down to my chest. As he rubbed against me I felt him grow harder, straining against his jeans, and that got me even hotter. I exhaled sharply as his lips and tongue found my breast again, felt myself losing control.

  One more bit of suction on my breast and one more firm rub below the waist and suddenly I was coming, so hard I nearly fell down. I gasped, threw my head back, grasping Quinn as the pleasure exploded outward from between my legs and shudders wracked me all over.

  He groaned as he felt me fall apart, then released my breast and backside, let my leg slide back down, slipped his arms around my waist and held me tightly as the high wore off and my raging heartbeat slowed.

  "You're incredible," he whispered, kissing my neck and then my lips, so tenderly. He started putting me back together, slipping my bra back into place and straightening my shirt. Then he stepped back a little and adjusted himself. He had to be uncomfortable, I thought, getting so worked up with no release.

  Coming back to my senses, I strained to hear if anyone was near and might have heard us. I looked up at Quinn and found him staring at me. Bewildered, I tried to smooth my ponytail and compose myself.

  "Come to my room," he whispered, moving closer again.

  "I can't, you know I can't," I murmured, touching my forehead with shaking fingers. "If anyone saw us, I'd be fired. We shouldn't even be down here talking like this."

  He laughed softly and took my hand away from my head, kissing my knuckles lightly, seductively. The feel of his lips on me made my heart flutter wildly again. "After what just happened, you're worried about someone walking in on us talking?"

  My face heated. "Look, I lost control for a few minutes. But nothing's changed. I can't-"

  "You're wrong," he whispered, leaning in, his fingertips lightly stroking the back of my neck. He pressed his body against mine again. "Everything's changed. And you can. Mmm yeah, you can.

  “I don't want to get you in trouble with Elaine," his lips brushed my ear. "But I want more, and so do you. You’re driving me crazy.”

  “Quinn, I-”

  “No. I don’t want to hear why you can’t,” he pulled back a little, his eyes locking with mine as his fingers trailed down to my collarbone. “I'll be at the bar at the Malibu Beach Inn tonight at 10. I'll stay for one drink. If you don't show, we'll pretend this never happened and I'll do my best to leave you alone."

  The heat of his body pulled away. He looked back from the stairs just long enough to whisper, "Ten o'clock, Em. Don't keep me waiting."

  Then he disappeared.

  For the rest of the afternoon I ran around, completely distracted. I couldn't finish a task without my attention being drawn to something else. The time dragged, the minutes and hours stretching endlessly. I dropped things, couldn't focus.

  Finally it was nearly 8 and I was putting the finishing touches on everything at the inn. Nervous and shaky, I tried to distract myself by checking and double-checking every little detail.

  Elaine stumbled in at 8:15, brushed past me in the kitchen without a word and bumped her way down the stairs to the little bedroom. I heard the door slam.

  I don't remember the drive home or how I decided what to wear. Somehow I got myself showered and dressed, throwing on faded Levis, a white tank top and a sheer, billowy cream-colored button down that I left open. I wanted to look alluring, but I had to be comfortable. Brown sandals, a touch of plum lipstick and I was back in the car. During the 40-minute ride south on the Pacific Coast Highway to the Malibu Beach Inn, a fairly sleepy boutique hotel right on the water, I tried to clear my head. To soothe my frazzled nerves, I drove with the window slightly open, a soft breeze going through my hair, singing along loudly and off-key to a mix of my favorite Gomez songs. Finally, my heart started to slow. I began to feel calmer. I could do this.

  Just as I was convincing myself I would be OK, I approached the hotel, and found bedlam outside.

  CHAPTER 16

  The Malibu Beach Inn parking lot was packed with cars. A mob of people milled around outside, and there were police cars with their lights on.

  What the hell?

  I parked and approached on foot, but a cop stopped me. "Miss, are you a guest at the hotel?"

  "Uh, no, I'm meeting someone at the bar."

  "Sorry miss, bar's closed. You'll have to call your friend and take it somewhere else."

  Disappointment and worry crushed me. "But I-" Was Quinn here? Should I text him? God, I had to find him. I couldn't let him think I didn't show. "OK officer, thanks."

  I was heading back to my car, trying to calm my pounding heart, when my phone buzzed.

  There was a text from a number I didn't recognize:

  Em. It's Q on borrowed phone. Taking a chance that you showed. Someone recognized me, what a mess. Am hiding at a friend's. Please come and meet me. I need you. Please.

  He sent a pin. It was about 20 minutes away, near Thousand Oaks. I drove there at the top of the speed limit.

  I checked the address twice before getting out of the car. It was a tiny house, a bungalow, on a dead-end street up on a hill. It wasn't really a neighborhood, just a modest collection of small out-of-the-way shacks, some in serious need of repair. This one was more cozy than downtrodden. I wondered who Quinn could possibly know who lived here.

  A light came on as I approached the front door, which then opened just as I was raising my hand to knock. A giant, well over 6 feet tall, probably closer to 7, broad and burly, with red hair in a buzz cut and bright green eyes stared down at me. He looked like a menacing storybook character. He scowled at me. "Hey, is this her?" He boomed over his shoulder.

  "Em!" Quinn pulled me inside and shut the door. The bungalow was comfortable, if sparsely decorated. Everything seemed handpicked and antique, as though each book in the built-in shelves and each piece of furniture and pillow h
ad a story behind it.

  "Wow, this place is amazing," I breathed.

  "OK, I like her, she can stay," the giant rumbled. I grinned at him, and his face softened. "Quinn, aren't you going to introduce me to the lady?"

  "Jordie, this is Em. Em, Jordie. Jordie is a key grip, we've worked on a bunch of films together. Em is the chef at the hotel where I've been staying."

  "Chef! Cool," Jordie said, impressed.

  "I think ‘chef’ is overstating it, but it's very nice to meet you, Jordie," I said, as his enormous paw engulfed my hand in a surprisingly gentle handshake. "Excuse my ignorance, but what does a key grip do?"

  A few hours later, after having a snack and chatting around the kitchen table, I got up to stretch. "Well, I've had a fantastic time, but I should be heading home," I said. “It’s a bit of a drive.”

  Though the night was nothing like I had expected it to be, I really had had a great time. Jordie answered all of my questions about his job, and he and Quinn reminisced about funny things that had happened on various movie sets and their epic poker games.

  "What? No, you're staying here tonight," Jordie said. "Quinn and I will bunk out on the pull out, and I'll get you set up in my room. It's completely private, you don't have to worry about a thing."

  "Oh no, I- "

  "I insist." He gave a definitive nod.

  I looked over at Quinn to explain it to Jordie, but he just smiled serenely.

  "I wouldn't argue with the man if I were you," he said, shrugging.

  Jordie managed to fit a king-size bed, dresser and bookshelf in his little bedroom, and the bookshelf held quite an eclectic collection. I changed into the giant T-shirt he left out for me, which came down to my knees, then poked my head out.

  "Goodnight guys," I said. "Jordie, thanks for everything. You're an excellent host. I hope you'll let me make you breakfast."

  "Sure thing. Goodnight," he said with a little salute.