Keeping Quinn: The Next Generation

by Edwards, Riley

  “Did I mention your shoes? They’re hot as shit. I’m totally borrowing them.”

  “Okay,” I happily agreed.

  We shared everything except men. That was our only rule. A rule that had kept the three of us close as sisters.

  “We’re here to get Quinn laid, not talk about clothes,” Paula broke into the conversation much too loudly.

  And I knew her voice had carried when two guys standing around the table next to us turned to look at me. Both were cute—nothing special, but cute—and both wore matching smirks. Oh, yeah, they’d heard. Now that I had their attention, I studied them, trying to figure out if I’d go home with either one. The answer was no, pretty boys did nothing for me. And both of them in their slacks and dress shirts were the definition of pretty boy.

  My gaze went back to my friends; Paula was pushing another shot in my direction with a tipsy smile and Bridgett’s attention was across the room.

  “Smokin’ hot guy at twelve o’clock. Don’t look now, but his eyes are glued to Quinn’s ass. I can’t know for certain, but I swear I see drool,” Bridgett announced. “Oh, yeah, he’s hooked all right. Hurry up and shoot that so we can dance.”

  Thank God, we didn’t drive to Pulse. I was well on my way to drunk and quickly decided this was my last drink. First, if I was looking for a man to go home with, I needed to be somewhat in control of myself, and secondly, I didn’t want to be sloppy. There was nothing sexy about sloppy.

  I took my shot; chilled vodka mixed with lemon and sugar slid down my throat and I slammed the glass back on the table and reached for Bridgett’s hand.

  “Let’s go.”

  I turned, my eyes swept through the crush of bodies, and I froze.

  Brice.

  Bridgett crashed into the back of me and I pitched forward right into the arms of one of the pretty boy twins. I felt hands around my waist, hips pressing into mine, and smelled nauseating cologne, but my eyes hadn’t unlocked from Brice’s.

  Therefore when his gaze dipped to where the pretty boy held me, I didn’t miss it. And when it came back to mine, I didn’t miss the hard set of his jaw. Damn, he was sexy. And I certainly didn’t miss when he started to prowl in my direction.

  He didn’t twist his body as he made his way through the crowd. No, not Brice. People moved out of his way. They had no choice, it was either that or get mowed down.

  I was transfixed on his powerful strides so I forgot to brace and because of that, I wasn’t ready to hear his rough voice and angry demand.

  “Step away.”

  My body jerked back to the present and I tried to do just that. Unfortunately, pretty boy didn’t feel like heeding Brice’s demand. I knew this because his fingers dug into my hips and pulled me closer.

  “Dude, I got to her first. Back off.”

  Got to me first? What the hell? I tried to step back again, not liking the guy touching me. His grip tightened.

  Hell no.

  Hell to the no!

  “Let go of me,” I hissed.

  “Babe—”

  “Let me go!”

  His smile turned smarmy and his fingers pressed harder.

  “We can—”

  I didn’t believe in the three-strikes-you’re-out rule. I believed when a woman asked you to unhand her, you complied—immediately. I’d asked the asshole twice and there wouldn’t be a third time, and frankly whatever the idiot was going to say was meaningless. Mainly because he was touching me and I didn’t want his hands on me.

  My knee came up, made contact between his legs, his hands fell away, and Brice had me in his arms before pretty boy bent double and howled in pain.

  “Lesson, asshole. The next time a woman asks you to let go, let go!” I shouted.

  “Fuckin’ tease,” pretty boy grunted. “All night you’ve been shoving your ass in my face.”

  “I have not, you asshole.”

  “Right. You and your girls gigglin’ about getting you laid. Fuck, you’re practically beggin’ for it.”

  Brice’s arm around my shoulder flexed and now I had his fingers digging into my flesh.

  “As if,” Bridgett screeched. “She wouldn’t fuck you with your buddy’s dick, you asshole.”

  “Newsflash, asshole.” Paula leaned in. “Women like men.” Her hand shot out and swept over Brice’s torso. “Real men. Not…not…whatever you are.”

  “Fuckin’ cunt,” pretty boy spat.

  “Did he…did he…” Paula’s big eyes turned toward me. “Call me the C-word?”

  This right here was why my dad worried when I went out with Paula and Bridgett. Shit was about to get real. First, my girls were protective of me, second, they didn’t take shit, and third, Paula especially was dramatic. There was no telling what she’d do. One option was she’d flounce away in a huff muttering curses as she went. The other more likely option was, she’d instigate a smackdown.

  “Grab her, Bridgett!” I shouted over the music. I tried to shrug off Brice’s arm. “Let me go, I need to get to Paula before she tackles him.”

  “You’re not getting anywhere near that—”

  “Seriously she’s gonna hit him, Brice. Stop her.”

  With a sigh, he let me go, gently pushed me behind him, and stepped between my friends and the pretty boy.

  “Two options,” he started. “Either you turn and sit your ass back down or I put you on your ass. Actually there’s a third, I step aside and let my girl’s bitches put you on your ass. All of those options end with you not looking in their direction again.”

  “Fuck—”

  “If I were you, I’d be smart, shut the fuck up, and turn around. You don’t and I’ll let the mouthy one at you and you’ll lose more than pride tonight. Word travels fast, man, don’t think you want to be known as the asshole who got his ass kicked by a woman.”

  “Bitch ain’t worth it, Larry,” pretty boy number two put in and grabbed his buddy’s arm.

  Larry’s gaze snapped to his friend before he looked back at Brice.

  “Got that right. Though the hot one might be, if she wasn’t so fuckin’ uptight.”

  “Glad you see it that way,” Brice replied, cold as ice.

  Pretty boys number one and two didn’t go back to their table, they walked off toward the bar. And it’s worth noting, both of them had to twist and turn to get through the undulating bodies. The throngs of people did not miraculously part like they did for Brice.

  Brice waited until the two assholes disappeared before he turned. And just like magic when he did, our eyes once again locked and I jolted when I saw how pissed he was.

  “What the fuck, Quinn?”

  “What the fuck what, Brice?”

  “Um. You two know each other?” Paula shrilled, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if she started jumping up and down clapping, thinking I’d found my good-time guy for the night.

  How wrong she was.

  “He’s my next door neighbor,” I told her.

  “I’m more than that, Quinn.”

  More than that? What did that mean? A shiver went up my spine thinking that I had indeed read him right that night in my bedroom when he was looking at me like he wanted to kiss me. And suddenly I had the urge to start jumping up and down. Or maybe I wanted to jump into his arms so he could carry me out to his truck.

  “I’m also Jackson’s best friend,” he growled.

  On a slow blink, my eyes drifted closed, cold replacing the sliver of excitement I’d felt moments before.

  Jackson’s best friend. Nothing more.

  Fuck, that hurt.

  Time to move on.

  “Right. Well, thanks for the rescue then. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

  I chanced a look at my girls and it was a mistake. I knew because Bridgett’s eyes were dancing and Paula was openly checking out Brice like he was a juicy peach she wanted to bite into. Not good. I’d never told either of them I’d been crushing on Brice and I never would, which meant Paula could make her move without breaking t
he girl code.

  That would fucking suck so bad. Actually, it would more than suck, it would kill.

  “You know, I don’t even mind you calling me a bitch, or the mouthy one,” Paula stated, not hiding the fact she was flirting. “Though my name’s Paula.”

  Someone kill me now. Right now—quick and painless—because if Brice takes Paula home it’ll be a slow, tortuous death.

  4

  Fuck, goddamn. Quinn Walker was going to be the death of me. Normally, the woman was gorgeous. But all made up…fucking phenomenal. Her thick black hair had a sexy wave to it that made me want to gather it up in my fist while I fucked the hell out of her, then see it splashed across my sheets as I took her slow and gentle. Her makeup was darker, sexier, her green eyes so piercing that with a single look she’d taken my breath. The dress? The fuck-me pumps? Beyond compare.

  It was no secret I’d been around the block a time or two. So it wasn’t lost on me that women found me attractive, but Quinn was so far out of my league it was unreal. Untouchable. And for more reasons than because she was Jackson’s friend and I had my rules, or that a woman like her deserved more than I was willing to give.

  The truth was, even if I was the type of man who was ready for entanglements and promises, I didn’t deserve her.

  No one did.

  She was too beautiful.

  Too smart.

  Too funny.

  Too sweet.

  The man who finally got her would be someone far better than me. A man who came from a good, clean family. Not one like mine. I witnessed my father’s embarrassment enough over the years to know I’d never expose a good woman to the bullshit my Uncle Seth, his many wives, and his asshole son brought into our lives. Rules were rules and they were put in place for a reason.

  But that hadn’t stopped me from dreaming about her every goddamned night since I found her shirtless. That didn’t mean I hadn’t fisted my cock remembering the way her tits looked in that pink bra. And that didn’t mean I hadn’t spent years doing everything I could to keep my distance so I wouldn’t do something stupid like touch her.

  All for naught because now she lived next door and I had touched her. I had spent time with her and found that I enjoyed it. And now I was paying penance for jerking off like a creep thinking about her.

  Quinn Walker was out with her girls trying to get laid.

  The knowledge was like a dagger to my gut. And my chest burned at the mere thought of a man touching her. My first instinct was to drag her ass out of the nightclub and take her back to her place and safely lock her away.

  She would never be mine but I didn’t want her to be anyone else’s.

  Acutely aware her friend was flirting with me, and ever more aware Quinn didn’t like it, meant I was right—about everything.

  I wasn’t stupid, I knew she was open to me. If I hadn’t been sure before she moved in next door, she made it obvious the night we had dinner together, and blindingly clear the night her bathroom flooded and she’d rolled up on her toes getting ready to kiss me.

  The fuck of it was, I was going to let her. In a moment of weakness, I couldn’t fight her pull. I needed to taste her mouth just once. I needed to know what beauty tasted like. Something I’d never had and something I’d never keep. But I wanted it.

  Thankfully, we were interrupted before it happened.

  “Brice?” Quinn’s melodious voice hit me and I felt the jolt of pain I felt every time she spoke.

  Quinn wasn’t mine. And thankfully I lived by a set of rules that would protect the beautiful Quinn from the type of damage I would cause.

  “Paula.” I jerked my chin in her direction. “You ladies enjoy your evening.”

  Needing one more look at Quinn, my gaze sliced to her. Fuck—perfect. Everything about her. “Good luck tonight.” She stiffened, and just so she wouldn’t miss my meaning, or maybe so she’d think I was the dick I was, I continued. “Be safe and glove up, babe.”

  I turned to leave without waiting to see her reaction and made my way back across the room where I left my buds. It took less time than I thought it would before Jarrod started in.

  “Finest piece of ass here. You gonna claim that?”

  I clenched my jaw, not liking Quinn being referred to as a piece of ass. “The dark one is off limits.”

  Jarrod looked over my shoulder before his eyes came back to me. “The blondes?”

  “Have at it. But serious as fuck, the dark-haired one is a no-go.”

  He wasted no time and I knew why, Quinn’s friends were seriously pretty. Not that they could hold a candle to her, but then no one could.

  My ass had barely touched the chair when a cute redhead with a mass of curls and too much skin showing slid up next to me, her bare thigh pressed against mine, and when she leaned forward to whisper in my ear it was a goddamn miracle her tits didn’t pop out of her dress.

  Easy.

  No commitment.

  No relationship.

  No promises.

  My kinda woman.

  “Hey, baby,” she cooed. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Nope.”

  “Wanna dance?”

  “Nope.”

  “Wanna get out of here?”

  “Fuck, yeah.”

  Her giggle filled my ears.

  Easy.

  When her hand went to my thigh I felt nothing.

  “Your place or mine?”

  Easy.

  “Yours.”

  “Sure thing, handsome.”

  I stood, the redhead stepped back, I grabbed her hand, and started dragging her through the crowd. The hair on the back of my neck tingled and I looked over my shoulder. My eyes hit Quinn’s wounded gaze and I knew with unadulterated clarity I was a fucking asshole. But this was who I was.

  The redhead, whose name I didn’t know and probably wouldn’t unless for some reason she told me, squeezed my hand in an effort to get me moving.

  I felt nothing. Not even a stir in my cock.

  Easy.

  No promises.

  No commitments.

  Nothing more.

  * * *

  Two days later I saw Quinn coming up the stairs. She glanced up and looked right through me. Not a word was spoken.

  * * *

  Two days after that, I was coming out of my door at the same time Quinn was coming out of hers juggling three boxes wrapped in pink paper, two gift bags, her purse, and her keys. Not only were the boxes on the large side, the top one looked like it was about to topple to the ground.

  “Here, let me help.” I started to relieve her of the boxes when her body snapped straight.

  Fuck.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Really, Quinn, you’re gonna drop them.”

  “Then I drop them. I don’t need your help.”

  “Right. So you’re gonna bring your niece dinged-up shit.”

  “How do you know about Emma?”

  “I work with Jackson, babe. Emma’s all he’s talked about for the last week.”

  Jackson had also shown me pictures, pictures I didn’t want to see because the Walker genes were dominant. Carter and Delaney’s daughter looked just like her mother. A shock of black hair and blue eyes. The more pictures Jackson scrolled through, the harder it was to look. Each one made me wonder if Quinn’s daughter would get her emerald eyes, and those thoughts sliced deep.

  I had no rights to her, no claim, and I’d made it so Quinn now hated me. But fuck, I couldn’t help wondering if we had a kid if the same would be true—would the Walker genes prevail? I hoped like fuck they would, because I wanted my daughter to have gemstone eyes and dark hair.

  But alas, I wasn’t ever going to have children with Quinn.

  “Whatever, Brice. I don’t want your help.”

  Fuck.

  I bought that, too. Her anger. The fuck of it was, she had nothing to be pissed about. I didn’t take the redhead home, or rather I did, I just didn’t fuck her. The truth was, I hadn’t fucked
a single woman in almost eight months. A goddamn record for me.

  Though I wouldn’t be sharing any of that with Quinn.

  It was better this way. Easier. If she hated me, that meant she wouldn’t let me anywhere near her. And I was too weak to keep my distance.

  “Too bad. Your stubborn ass is getting help.” I pulled the boxes from her arms and endured the scathing glare. I deserved it. “How’d you think you were getting down the stairs without breaking your damn neck?”

  She slammed her door, checked that the knob was locked, and bound down the stairs like the hounds of hell were on her heels.

  Good.

  She got to her black Honda Civic, popped the trunk, tossing the bags in, and turned to me. Just to piss her off, I took my time arranging the boxes, and when I was done I narrowly missed my arm being crushed when she slammed the trunk closed.

  “You’re welcome,” I said to get a rise out of her.

  I couldn’t have her, I needed her to hate me, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to talk to her.

  Her eyes that never failed to touch my soul, turned cold. So fucking cold they went from emerald to frosty mint and I braced.

  “You know,” she whispered. “I’ve spent the last week, no, the last few months, wondering what it is about me that’s not good enough for you. Why one second I think you’re going to kiss me and how pathetic I am that I’m dying for it, and the next you shut down and can’t get away fast enough. Then I try to figure out why it feels so good to be in your arms, thinking you have to feel it, too. But you walk away, again. Then I see you drag a redhead out of a bar and wonder why that hurts so bad I can’t breathe. Since I’ll never have the answers to any of that, and since it doesn’t feel too good, I’ve decided I don’t give a shit. I’ve wasted years thinking about you. Wondering about you. Trying to figure out a way to get you to notice me. When none of it really matters. So next time you see me, Brice, do what you do best and pretend you don’t know me. Walk away. Drag your redheads outta bars, screw easy bar flies, live your life, but do it without knowing me.”

  I didn’t wait for the pain her words caused to score through me. I didn’t need to, each one sliced as she said them. Each cut deep. Each one excruciating.