by L. M. Reid
“You don’t…”
“Know you? Oh, I know you, Quinn,” I say as my fingers gently run along her cheek. “I’ve watched you for years, surrounding yourself with guys that treat you like shit and people who don’t give a damn about you. The part that I never understood though was the why. You’re beautiful, smart, and talented. You deserve so much more than you allow yourself.”
Her hand presses to my chest to move me. “Move.”
“No.”
“Damnit, Hunter.”
“Tell me something. Tell me something real. Tell me why.”
“Because I’m just like her,” she says before sneaking under my arm and away from me.
My eyes are glued to her as she walks away. And this time it’s me wanting to start the fight. I’ll be damned if I settle for that as an answer. I know I should stay away from her. Remove myself from further betraying the proverbial bro-code, but I can’t.
I’ve always been drawn to Quinn. Trying to be her friend, trying to figure out why she hates me. And now? Fuck if I can get her out of my head after our night together. Fuck if I can’t stop seeing that emotion coursing through her eyes, the pain, the hurt and I want to make it go away. I shouldn’t, but I do.
“Just like who?” I ask joining her in her at the bar that Hartley set up in his kitchen. She’s in the middle of doing a shot when I ask the question.
“You asked for something real. I gave it to you. Now go away.” Quinn tells me as she slams down the shot glass.
“Come on, Quinn, why don’t you quit hating me for five minutes and…”
“And what? Let you fuck me again?” Her words come out just as the party quiets. All eyes in the room gravitate toward us. Including Mason’s.
Fuck.
Quinn, however, doesn’t seem fazed. In fact, she’s standing there smiling at me looking pleased with herself.
“I don’t know why I even bother,” I say. “And for the record, whoever ‘she’ is, I’m pretty sure you’re a hell of a lot worse.”
“Screw you, Hunter,” she shouts at me.
“Already did, sweetheart,” I reply before walking away.
I walk straight past Mason, Layla, and all the prying eyes of my teammates wondering what in the hell just happened. I storm out of the house, but I don’t get very far before I hear my name being called. It’s Mason and as much as I want to run from this argument, I know I can’t.
I fucked up. The least I owe him is an explanation.
I stop in my tracks, my head hung as I wait for him to yell or tell me off or punch me. Whatever he’s going to do… I deserve.
“You want to tell me what that was all about?” he asks.
“Last week… after I found Layla with… I ran into Quinn. Things got carried away and… I’m sorry, Mase. I never meant for it to happen. Hell, we don’t even like each other and…”
“Relax.”
Relax? Is he kidding me? He wants me relaxed so what, I fall easier when he punches me?
“It’s not like you’re not some random douche that she hooked up with. You’re my friend, a stand-up guy. And Quinn…” Mason laughs. “I think I’m more worried about you in this situation than I am her.”
“I’m not pussy whipped, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
“Yeah, you’re not going to use that word around me anymore,” Mason says with a look of disgust on his face. Disgust, amusement, but not anger. Not one damn ounce of anger. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“And say what?” I run my hand through my hair. “Hey Mase, just wanted you to know I fucked your sister?”
Mason cringes as I say the words. “Okay, maybe not like that but… if you and Quinn…”
“No. It’s not like that,” I tell him despite the fact that I haven’t been able to get the woman off my mind since that night.
Drunk or not, I remember every damn moment. The hurried sex, the moments when we both caught our breath and her fingers just trailed along my body. The exploratory sex. The slow sex. If I had to pick a favorite, I couldn’t. Every piece of Quinn was perfection. Everything about us together was unexpected. And now, her brother is giving me permission? The plans and positions that conjure in my head are unthinkable.
“Then what’s it like?”
“I don’t know,” I say throwing my hands in the air. Because yes, I have been thinking about Quinn a lot this past week. Whatever this draw to her I have is, it doesn’t make a bit of difference, though. At the end of the day, the woman still hates me. If all these years hasn’t done anything to change that. One night sure as hell isn’t going to.
“You like her,” Mason says with a hint of a smile.
“No. And, even if I did…” I shake my head rejecting the idea. “What happened between Quinn and I was a one-time deal. A mistake. Nothing more.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” His words say he agrees with me, but the look in his eyes says otherwise. I would question what is going on in that warped head of his, but at that very moment I catch a glimpse of Layla and Maddox.
Looks like all those messages she left me about what a mistake it was, that she wanted me back, were all bullshit because here she is with him. In his arms, his lips on hers, just like they have been all night.
As much as I don’t want to watch this unfold in front of me, as furious as I am with her, I also realize that ache in my chest that I felt the night it happened is gone. And I can’t help but think it has something to do with Quinn.
“I’m going to take off,” I say.
“I’ll come with you. We can grab a pizza and I can kick your ass at Madden,” Mason says. He’s still smiling and I’m not going to lie, it makes me more than a little nervous.
“You say that and yet you’ve never once beat me. Not at the game… or on the field.”
“Oh, hell no. Those are fight words right there, pal.”
Chapter 7
Quinn
“How did I not know about this?” Claire asks.
We’re still standing in the kitchen of the party. The same spot where I announced to the whole place, including every player of the Remington Red Devils, that Hunter and I had sex. And the same spot he walked away from me without another word. Without explaining why exactly he cared so damn much and felt the need to keep pushing me.
Mason stares at me for a moment. He shakes his head before walking away. And here I am being blamed again. Just like with Shane. As if it’s somehow my fault and mine alone that they had sex with me.
“Not now,” I tell Claire as I take a step in the opposite direction. An overwhelming feeling comes over me as people continue to stare at me. I need to get away. I need to breathe. As I try to leave the room one of the gawkers steps in front of me. He’s tall, muscular, and looks familiar. I don’t know his name but recognize him as one of the players on the Red Devils.
“Hey there,” he says. His voice is deep, rough, intimidating.
“Excuse me, please,” I tell him trying to push past him.
“Don’t be upset, doll,” the guy says. “Hunter might not be interested, but I am.”
“Trust me. You’re not.”
He eyes me up and down with his slimy gaze. He gives my body a once over, no different than Hunter did that night in the hotel. Except in Hunter’s eyes I saw appreciation. This guy? Nothing but hunger and something I can’t quite put my finger on, but it scares me, nonetheless.
Mason steps between me and the guy. “Problem, Dunn?”
“Nope,” the guy says before he walks away without so much as a glance in my direction.
“Thanks, but I could have handled that,” I say to Mason.
“The way you handled Hunter?” Mason folds his arms across his chest. His eyes questioning, his face giving me a warning.
“I didn’t do anything to Hunter. We just… sated a mutual need.”
“Please spare me any details,” Mason tells me. “I just came back to let you know I’m taking off.”
“Awe, is poor H
unter embarrassed that he slummed it with me?” I ask.
Mason shakes his head. “You need to let go of whatever your issue is with him. He’s not the guy you’re painting him out to be. I’ll see you later.”
I’m drunk, I’m hurt, and if I don’t leave, there’s a good chance that I’ll do something stupid. So, I allow my feet to carry me to the door knowing full well that Claire will follow.
“The ‘she’ Hunter was talking about, it was your mother, wasn’t it?” she asks when she catches up to me.
I nod in response. Poor Claire has tried for years to get me to open up, to tell her about my parents, my childhood, both of the things that haunt me to this day.
“Are you ever going to tell me about it?” Her voice is soft and kind as she asks the question.
“No,” I tell her, the softness of my voice matching her own. “They’re my demons. Not yours.”
“You’re my best friend, Q, nothing is going to change that.”
I press a kiss to her cheek, loving that she’s reassuring me but wishing she would let it go. “I know.”
“It might help, might make you feel better.”
It’s going to take more than crying on Claire’s shoulder to fix what’s broken inside of me. Years of abuse and neglect. Years of being alone and hungry with no one to rely on except ourselves. That’s the life that Mason and I grew up in. Not a life like Claire’s. And certainly not a life like Hunter’s. The rich, spoiled shit that he is.
“It won’t. But thank you.”
“Want to get some coffee? My treat.”
“Honestly, I just want to go home and go to bed,” I whine. “Stay with me tonight?”
“In your hot, professional football player brother’s fancy ass condo? Yes. Always yes.”
I loop my arm with Claire’s as we head out of the party to wait for our Uber. As we stand there, I see Layla, Hunters ex, and her new boyfriend. They’re standing out of sight of anyone at the party and clearly involved in an argument. Seems like the happy new couple isn’t so happy after all. Serves them right. I may hate Hunter, but I hate even more what Layla did to him. You don’t cheat. No reason, no excuse, it is never okay. Not for the person you’re cheating on. And not for the person you’re cheating with. Especially if they don’t know you’re already involved.
When we arrive back at Mason’s, he and Hunter are seated on the couch playing some stupid video game. I don’t speak. I just continue straight to my room. Claire on the other hand doesn't know how to be anything but nice. If I didn’t love her so much, it would be sickening. She acknowledges the guys as she passes, both of them returning her greeting despite the fact that they both seem to ignore me. I wait another moment after Claire enters my room, but nothing. I slam the door shut and sag against it.
“Now will you tell me what happened?” she asks before plopping on my bed. “Because if you don’t, I’ll just have to go and ask him.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Wanna try me?” she says with a laugh.
I recant the events from the night at the hotel to her. I explained about the guy at the bar, the short conversation, and the utter horniness that was coursing through both of us. Mix in a little alcohol and that is where bad decisions are made. I know, I’ve made plenty.
“What about Shane?” she asks.
I close my eyes. The picture of him that I thought was ingrained in my brain is starting to fade. As are my feelings for him.
“He didn’t show that night. Not until it was too late at least. And by then…” I drop onto the bed next to her. “I don’t know. I’m just over it. I don’t know why I ever agreed to meet with him in the first place. He has a wife. And… I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a homewrecker.”
“Do you love him?” she asks.
Maybe a part of me did, but honestly, no. I liked the thrill of being with my teacher. I liked knowing that it was a bad decision. The thing was, at least a part of it felt right. He was so much better than anyone I had dated before – kind, smart, gentle. Turns out he was also the biggest liar out of all of them, too. The others, they may have been assholes, but at least they were honest about it.
“No,” I tell her. “It was just…” Just what? A game? Fun? I sigh. “I thought he was a good choice. But like every decision I make – I made the wrong one. This time, I got what I deserved.”
“Quinn,” Claire says, and I can hear the pity in her voice.
“I don’t want your pity,” I say.
“I don’t pity you. It just makes me so sad to hear you think that you don’t deserve happiness, that you deserve bullshit like Shane and what he did to you. You’re my best friend, Q, and there isn’t a damn thing that I wouldn’t do for you. Including telling you the truth – even when you don’t want to hear it. Whatever she did, whoever she was, it isn’t you. You are sweet and kind, talented beyond belief. You just let your view of her blind you to that.”
“You give me way too much credit,” I say with a laugh trying to blow the conversation off because it’s making me uncomfortable.
“And you don’t give yourself enough.”
Chapter 8
Hunter
“That is a terrible idea,” I say as I run my hands through my hair.
“It’s an amazing idea,” Mason says. His face is lit up like a damn kid in a candy store. Of course, he thinks it’s a great idea. He’s not the one who would be lying. He’s not the one who would be pretending.
I glance down at the wedding invitation that sits on his coffee table. The one for my brother’s wedding in the Bahamas that Layla and I were supposed to attend together. Not only was she my date, but she too is standing up in the wedding. And, according to Hudson, she still is. Even better, she’s bringing Maddox with her.
“How the hell would I even find someone?” I ask. And what the hell kind of person would be willing to do this?
I made the mistake of deferring to my best friend the eternal bachelor on how to handle having to watch Layla prance around with her new boyfriend for a week. I’m over her, mostly, but it’s still not something that I want to have to see. It’s my brother’s wedding – backing out isn’t an option. Seems like Layla isn’t willing to back out either. In fact, I think she’s actually enjoying this.
“Jesus, Hunter. You have women falling all over you all the time. Take one up on it. Besides, who the hell would pass up an all-expenses paid trip to the Bahamas?”
“So, what the hell am I supposed to do, Mase? Just ask the next random woman I see if she wants to be my fake girlfriend and come to my brother’s wedding with me?” Have I really sunk this low that I’m even considering something like this?
“Oh my God, please tell me you’re kidding.” I groan at the sound of Quinn’s voice and the amusement in it. She just had to walk in at that exact moment. I don’t speak. I merely glare at her, my eyes filled with fury and desire. “You want to take some random woman with you to Hudson’s wedding and have her pretend to be your girlfriend?” Her laughter is irritating. Sexy, but irritating.
As furious as I am with her and the humor she finds in my dilemma, it never fails that every time she is in the same room as me my body comes alive, my heart races, and my fucking cock stands at attention. Christ, how I wish I could hate her, but I can’t. Not even after that shit she pulled at the party a couple weeks back.
“Wouldn’t it be better to just call an escort service? Let the professionals handle it?” she laughs as she walks toward the kitchen.
Escort service? Actually, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea. It might actually work. “What do you think?” I ask as I look at Mason.
“You’re kidding, right?” he chokes out. “If someone were to find out that you used an escort service, there is no way in hell they’re going to believe it was so you could find a pretend girlfriend. They’re going to think you called to get laid. And your reputation would go right down the shitter. You have endorsements and your charity to think of. Don’t do something stupid an
d fuck up your reputation because of Layla,” he tells me.
He’s right. The reputation that I pride myself on would go down the damn drain and fast if anyone caught wind of me so much as calling an escort service. Still, hiring someone who knows what they’re doing sure as hell seems a lot easier than convincing some random woman to do it. And more importantly, it actually being believable.
“What about a friend? You do have those, besides Mason, don’t you?” Quinn suggests when she returns to the living room. She plops down in the chair across from me, her legs slung over the arm rest. My eyes are immediately drawn to them and scrape over every glorious inch.
I hear Mason clear his throat, the sound snapping me out of my Quinn induced haze.
“Layla and I know all the same people. Besides, she would have heard by now if I were dating someone,” I say. I shake my head. “Everyone would have.”
“Unless….” Mason says.
“Unless what?” I ask.
“I am a genius. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner. Quinn. You should take Quinn to the wedding,” he suggests.
I begin to laugh, but Mason keeps a serious look on his face. He isn’t kidding. “Her?”
“Me?” Quinn chimes in.
“No way, it will never work,” I say.
“As much as this kills me, I have to admit, I agree with Hunter.”
“Why wouldn’t it? You two already had sex. Not to mention you announced it to the whole party, including Layla and Maddox. It’s not that far of a stretch.” Mason leans back on the couch looking rather pleased with himself.
“It’s insane. No one would buy it,” I argue.
“And you’re assuming that I would even agree to this,” Quinn pipes in.
“Really, Q?” Mason asks. He leans forward resting his elbows on his knees. “You say that as if you have a choice in the matter. Either you do it, or you tell me what happened at Columbia. Your choice.”
Quinn’s eyes widen. “Bahamas here I come.”
“That’s what I thought. Besides this will be a piece of cake,” Mason says. “All you have to do is fool Layla.”
