Boom

by Stacy Gail

  A perfect day for travel.

  With great care she slid from under Quinn’s arm and out of bed, grabbed up her robe that had made it into his room and huddled into its warmth. As she cinched the belt around her waist she glanced back at Quinn. He slept on, deep and peaceful, and she couldn’t help but smile as she watched him sleep. It was no wonder the man crashed so hard; he was a human dynamo, driven to accomplish in a single day what most people did in a week. There was no such thing as nine-to-five or weekends for him. That kind of thing was for mere mortals. Quinn made dreams into staggering reality. There was no downtime for the likes of him.

  Except when he was in her arms.

  Her smile stayed in place as she moved from the warmth of his bedroom, the gas fire still flickering low and comforting, to the chillier great room and her now-unused bedroom. The sexy times in the kitchen had only been the beginning of the night’s festivities. Once they’d washed up and gotten back into their clothes to avoid the chill, they’d taken their time over a dinner of lasagna, salad and the donuts he’d brought home for dessert.

  As they’d eaten, she’d had a marvelous time as they’d shared what their favorite foods were and what they couldn’t stand. He seemed to find it hilarious that she didn’t like strawberries because the tiny seeds freaked her out, and she had to roll her eyes over his man-‘tude when it came to anything green like spinach or kale. Then, once they’d satisfied a hunger of one kind, he took her into the bedroom, threw some pillows down in front of the fire and satisfied another level of hunger until she felt they’d added new definition to the term sated.

  Was it any wonder she was still smiling?

  Shuffling through what she could wear and making a mental note to do a load of laundry later on, her glance happened to fasten on her purse still on the bed. She came to a standstill, her smile at last fading. There. That was what really woke her. It was the burden of everything her purse carried. She’d felt its weight all the way across the chalet, even in sleep.

  A slow breath eased out of her as she dropped the clothing she’d chosen back into her open suitcase, and came to sit beside her purse. Her mouth tightened along with her stomach as she dragged the manila envelope from its depths and pulled the papers out.

  “Mia. Baby.”

  She almost jumped out of her skin before looking up to find Quinn in the open doorway, his eyes more closed than open and a robe wrapped haphazardly around him to ward off the morning chill. “Geez, Boom. You scared the life out of me.”

  “Bed. Come back.” Yawning widely, he lifted an arm toward her, clearly wanting to shepherd her under it. “S’too early.”

  She couldn’t sleep now if her life depended on it. “You go on and try to get a couple more hours. Heaven knows you need it, the way you push yourself.”

  “Can’t sleep when you’re up buzzing around, so come back to bed. We’ll keep each other warm.”

  “I…” She wanted to. The way he put it made it almost irresistible. But she found herself hesitating as she looked down at the papers she held.

  “Babe, come on.”

  “I need to tell you something.” Going for broke, she held up the papers and prayed she wasn’t making one lulu of a mistake. “I need to tell you about this.”

  His attention shifted to the papers she held aloft before something dangerous shifted in his expression, and he began to scowl. “I’m not awake enough for this. Either you’re coming to bed with me or you’re not. Decide.”

  God, did he have to make it sound so final? “I know it’s hard for you to function before coffee, so you don’t have to say anything. Just listen, okay?”

  “Red—”

  “I need to deliver this contract—and a notice of contract default—to Jackson,” she blurted in a rush, watching him come to such a complete standstill he could have been trying for statue status. “That’s what this is. That’s what I was doing when I got diverted to Montana.”

  Quinn’s eyes, no longer sleepy, still looked dangerous. “You were delivering legal papers? I thought you were going to Seattle to hook up with your ex.”

  “After what I’d seen on Jackson’s Facebook page, it was obvious there wasn’t going to be any hooking up, though I thought at the time that I should try to salvage our relationship.” The admission made her grimace, but she couldn’t help it. Maybe only a week had passed, but she’d changed so much since then. Looking back now, it was hard to believe she’d ever put up with Jackson’s crap. “I had these papers with me because deep down I knew it was over. The plan was to serve the notice to him and be done with him forever.”

  “Wait. Wait.” He rubbed a hand sharply over his face, and she could have kicked herself for dropping all these bombs on him now. The man was a zombified mess when he first woke up; he probably wasn’t getting half of this conversation. “Contract? What the fuck are you talking about? You’re not one of those scary-ass psycho chicks who sues a guy when he backs out of an engagement, are you? Because forcing a guy to the altar and condemning both parties to everlasting marital hell is fucking screwy. I never saw you as screwy, but let’s face it, I’ve got a piss-poor track record when it comes to reading women. So… shit, please tell me you’re not one of those scary-ass psycho chicks.”

  “I’d be offended if I didn’t know you were half-asleep.” With a sigh, she came to her feet and handed him the papers. “Do you remember I dropped out of law school to financially support Jackson so he could continue with his studies and get his degree? For two years I worked my ass off to make sure he got what he wanted, and I did it in part because I had the assurance that one way or another, he’d pay me back by doing the same for me once he’d landed a steady job.”

  “Fucking shameless leech,” he muttered, looking like he tasted something foul. “So much for that promise.”

  “That’s just it—he didn’t just make a promise, Quinn. Our old law professor had me put the deal in the form of a contract, a contract that Jackson has since breached.”

  He blinked, and suddenly he looked wide awake. “What?”

  She nodded. “I might not be able to get back the years I spent supporting Jackson. But I can at least get back the money I’m owed so that I can once again try for that law degree I’ve always dreamed of earning.”

  “You’ll get it. You don’t know how to fail.” He frowned not at the papers he held but at her, as if seeing her for the first time. “You once said you were looking for something that would stand up in court to prove that asshole had broken up with you.”

  “Exactly. Part of the contract is very much like a prenuptial agreement when it comes to defining the possible dissolution of our relationship, and what Jackson would owe me if he tried to sneak away once he got through law school on my dime. But since we weren’t married, the majority of the contract had to take the form of a standard business loan.”

  His eyes widened. “You’re kidding me. You put all that in writing?”

  “Had things worked out the way we’d originally planned, Jackson would have done the honorable thing and paid for my two remaining years of law school while he worked at his new job, thus paying me back over the same amount of time it had taken for him to go through school. However, in the event that we were no longer living together—like now—it’s stipulated that he’s still financially obligated to pay back this loan.”

  “Okay, I’m with you on that. I just don’t understand why you said you needed to legally prove you two were no longer together. What does it matter whether or not you’re together? He owes you either way.”

  “For me to legally demand full repayment in one lump sum and then get him out of my life forever, Jackson had to be shown as the one who broke our original agreement by breaking off our relationship.”

  “What if you’d broken up with him?”

  “Then the agreement of paying me back over time would still be in effect—a loan is a loan, after all. But since he announced online that he’s engaged to another woman, I can now show he’s
in breach of contract, get paid back, and have the last part of Jackson Hackler removed from my life for all time quickly and efficiently, and be done with him.”

  A muscle knotted in his jaw while a storm brewed in his eyes. “Easy as that, huh? How much does he owe you, do you know?”

  “Of course.”

  “Yeah, what was I thinking? Of course you’d know.” He scoffed, and it was a surprisingly bitter sound. “How much?”

  Unsure of his mood and wondering if he was mad at her for being such a fool with her money and choice of men, she tapped a hesitant finger against the back of the papers. “An itemized bill is on page three, including interest. Basically it’s two years’ worth of tuition, books, his half of the rent, cost of living, cram school for the Bar and various other things. It all comes out to around… well. A lot.”

  “Shit.” He flipped to page three, scanned his way down to the bottom line, then lifted his eyes to glare at her like he thought she’d made the world’s worst accounting mistake. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  What the hell? “Uh…”

  “This jackoff owes you almost two hundred grand, and you think that just by handing him these papers, you’re going to magically be able to kick him out of her life? Really? Or have you realized that repayment of this kind takes fucking years to take care of, and that’s why you’re so intent on doing this? Are you doing this because you actually want to tie that fuckwad to you, and not let him go?”

  Her jaw dropped, too stunned to be angry at the screwed-up conclusion he’d somehow jumped to. “Are you serious?”

  “Answer the question.”

  “What I want is to close that chapter of my life forever and have the money I’m owed so I can go back to law school and finally get my degree.”

  “I’ll pay for that, you don’t need this shithead’s money,” he snarled, stunning her all the more.

  “Quinn…” She shook her head, trying to follow his train of thought, but she was pretty sure that sucker had derailed. “That doesn’t make sense, I’d never let you pay for my schooling, especially when I know every cent you’ve got is tied up in Whiteout. And it’s not his money—it’s mine. The contract he signed in front of witnesses and was notarized by our old law professor says so. It’s my money. I’m entitled to it. I’m going to get it. Can you understand that?”

  “So you’ll take his money but not mine? That’s what you’re saying?”

  Nope. He couldn’t understand, not even a little. “I’m saying I’m calling in my loan. What’s wrong with that?”

  “What’s wrong with you hiring a process server to give him those papers? Why do you have to fly all the way to fucking Seattle to do it personally?”

  That pulled her up short. He had her there.

  “Exactly.” Clearly aware that he’d made a point, he got right up in her face, and his eyes were so dark with storm clouds they were almost black. “You know you don’t have to go to Seattle to get this done. You want to go. You want to see him again.”

  “Okay,” she gritted out, and she hated how much the truth hurt. “I admit it, all right? After the hell he’s put me through and after he made a fool of me for so goddamn long, I think that I deserve the satisfaction of seeing his reaction when I hand over those papers.”

  His beautiful face was so hard it was almost unrecognizable. “You want to see him again. After the shitty way he treated you and he deserves nothing from you but your absence, you want to see him again.”

  “I don’t want to see him, I want to see his reaction,” she corrected while her irritation ballooned by leaps and bounds. Couldn’t he see the distinction? “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Jackson’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He may have passed the Bar, but he did it by the lowest possible margin. He has a terrible memory when it comes to details, which is what the law is all about. I’m sure he remembers something bad would happen if he cut ties with me—that has to be why he never officially broke up with me. He probably thought he was being clever and found a loophole in having to pay me back right away, but I worded the contract very carefully. There’s no wiggle room on this. I want to be there to see his face when he realizes the hole he’s landed himself in.”

  “You want to see him.” Quinn enunciated each word just below a roar, as if she was both deaf and a halfwit. “No matter how you dress this up, that’s the bottom line, Mia.”

  She let out a growl of pure frustration. “You’re not hearing me.”

  “No, you’re the one who’s not listening, to me or yourself. You want to see him because you haven’t let him go. You’re still holding on.”

  She took a half-step back. It was the only way to make room for her shock. “You can’t believe I still care about him, do you? I know you think I’m loyal to a fault, but I’m not stupid, Quinn. I know when I need to cut someone out of my life because they’re bad for me, and that’s exactly how I view Jackson. I want nothing to do with him now.”

  “Except for the fact that you want to see him.”

  “His reaction. Not him.”

  “Just the thought of him dragged you halfway across a fucking continent. This piece of shit dictates how you live your life. He’s got that much power over you because you allow it.”

  “You’re wrong. That’s not how this is.”

  “I’m not wrong, because you do allow it. Shit, I thought you were stronger than this, that you could walk away from the thing that poisoned your life without craving its taste one more time, but obviously you can’t. You can’t because deep down you’ve got no spine. That’s how he got away with dicking you around in the first place. All you’ve got are strings, and every time you allow yourself to think of this guy, you get jerked around and wind up dancing to his tune like the pathetic puppet you are.”

  Hurt rose in tandem with fury, but it was far easier to focus on the anger than how she was bleeding inside. “If you think my fighting for what I’m owed means I’m a puppet, then we’ve got a real problem.”

  “We’ve got one hell of a problem, but it’s not that. You’re just too blinded by your need to see your ex to get what the real problem is, so fine. Go. Go see him. Get the hell out of here and do what you want. I don’t have time for this shit.”

  Then he threw the papers to the floor, turned on his heel and left through the open door, not even bothering to give her another look.

  Chapter Twenty

  Mia was wrapped in a cocoon of numbness as she waited in the chalet’s warm vestibule, jacket and hat on, carry-on packed and waiting by her side.

  She was leaving Whiteout Mountain.

  Sick dread burned like acid in her stomach. It had all happened so fast. Soon after she’d had it out with Quinn she’d heard him leave, presumably for the main building and the work that always awaited him as Whiteout’s opening loomed large next weekend. She didn’t have a chance to try to bring things back to where they’d been, but even if she had, she had no idea what to say. There wasn’t too much that could be done when it came to countering someone when they threw you out. It was his place. She didn’t belong there. He’d said get out, because he was done with having her there.

  So.

  That was that.

  It wasn’t over, she thought, her jaw knotting while she began to shiver in the warmth. She couldn’t let it be over. She was stubborn as hell and she always finished what she started; that was what had gotten her to this point in the first place. Finding Quinn in the middle of the Montana mountains was like finding treasure—rare and beautiful, and shining in a way that made her soul smile. No way in hell was she going to give that treasure up.

  Go see him. Get the hell out of here.

  Her shivering got worse. Part of her still wanted to get to Jackson so she could get the ball rolling on jettisoning him out of her life once and for all. But that wasn’t as big of a priority as it had been an hour ago. The priority that had bumped its way up her list to the number one spot was to not leave Quinn, even when he w
anted nothing to do with her.

  If she left now, she had a gnawing fear that she wouldn’t be welcomed back

  Get the hell out of here.

  Maybe… maybe it was over.

  “Shit,” she whispered, while the shivering got worse and her stomach threatened to heave right out of her body.

  The sound of a diesel engine seeped into her thoughts from beyond the front door. With a shaking hand she reached for the handle, sorry now that she’d called Olivia for a ride to the airport. Damn it, she didn’t want to go, not like this. At the very least she should leave a note promising that she would be back to talk things out.

  Unless, of course, he didn’t want her to come back. Maybe the prospect of her returning would be the last thing he’d want to hear.

  Then again, if he was so much of a spoiled brat that he tossed people out of his life just because they did things he didn’t approve of or hadn’t authorized, they were doomed from this point on. She hadn’t thought he was that kind of unbending, my-way-or-the-highway kind of man, but maybe she was wrong. She’d known him just a little over a week now. She’d only begun to scratch the surface of who he was and how he ticked. What she knew so far she loved, and she wanted the opportunity to get to know him even better, so she could love him all the more.

  Damn it, she didn’t want to leave.

  Icy air hit her the moment she stepped outside. But the temperature didn’t make her freeze as much as the sight of Jase rounding the front of a big, burly crew cab black truck with chrome accents and a plow-blade—currently lifted up off the ground—mounted in the front.

  What that hell?

  That wasn’t Olivia.

  “Good morning.” She said it cautiously, while her baffled gaze bounced from Jase’s unreadable face to the empty cab of the idling truck and back again. Olivia was nowhere to be found. “Uh, Quinn has already left for the day, but I’m sure you can find him up at the main resort if you’re looking for him.”