Playing the Game

by L. M. Reid

  Our eyes lock, I beg her to challenge me, to argue what we both know is true. Quinn is way more than she gives herself credit for.

  “There you are.” My mother’s voice breaks through our little argument. The one that has me turned on to levels unheard of.

  “Hey, Mom,” I say while silently cursing her under my breath for breaking this moment.

  “We’ve been looking for you,” she says as she presses a kiss to my cheek. She turns to Quinn and smiles. “I’ve been looking forward to chatting with you all day.”

  “Quinn had a little wardrobe malfunction,” I lie. A guy can hope, can’t he?

  “All fixed though,” Quinn reassures my mother and me.

  “Well, good.” She links her arm around Quinn’s. “Come now, let’s join everyone else.”

  Quinn glances back at me, her eyes pleading with me to save her. Maybe a little time with Mama Adams will do her some good, show her that I’m not as bad as she thinks, and either is she.

  My mother leads her to wear my father and grandparents are standing. I greet my grandparents with hugs and kisses.

  “Who’s this lovely young lady?” my Grandfather asks as my grandmother swats him.

  “Will you quit checking out these poor young girls,” she scolds. “None of them want an old man looking at them.”

  “Oh, hush woman,” he replies.

  Quinn smiles. And for the first time tonight, she looks relaxed.

  “Gram, Gramps, this is Quinn. My girlfriend,” I say.

  “About damn time you got yourself a hot little number,” my Grandfather states earning him another swat from my grandmother.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Quinn,” my grandmother says extending her hand. “I’m Joan. And please excuse my husband, Harold. He’s had one too many of those Mai Tai’s tonight.”

  Quinn takes my grandmother’s hand and shakes it. “It’s very nice to meet you.” She then takes my grandfather’s hand.

  “I have not had too many. Maybe I haven’t had enough. And besides, I’m just happy for my grandson. Bout time he found someone vibrant like Quinn here and not that stick in the mud he dated before.”

  “Speaking of…” my mother begins. “Why didn’t you ever mention you were seeing anyone?” She turns to Quinn. “As I’m sure you know, we talk nearly every day.”

  Quinn nods and hides the smile and the urge to call me a momma’s boy. It’s written all over her face, I’m just the only one who can see it.

  “It’s new,” I reply. “And unexpected.”

  My hand rests at her hip and I give it a little squeeze.

  “Very unexpected,” she squeaks out.

  My mother smiles, her eyes bouncing between Quinn and I as though she’s trying to size us up as a couple. I’m not sure if she’s plotting our future or suspicious about our relationship. It’s my mother so it could go either way. “So how did this happen? I mean, you two have known each other forever and I never got the impression that….”

  “Mom,” I say. “This isn’t the time, or the place.”

  “The boy’s right. It’s time to dance,” my grandfather chimes in. “Care to join me?” He extends his hand to Quinn who quickly takes it. Seems like the dirty old man comes off as less menacing than a prying mother.

  I turn my attention back to my mother and give her a scolding look. “Do you have a problem with me and Quinn?”

  “What? No. Of course not,” my mother replies. “She’s a beautiful young woman.”

  “That she is,” I reply.

  “She’s just not exactly the kind of girl you usually go for,” she comments as she watches my grandfather twirl Quinn around the dance floor. Apparently, she’s steering more towards determining if our union is legit or not.

  Even with the more reserved dress, it’s hard to ignore that Quinn is vastly different than Layla. And I’m not just referring to the bright blue streaks that stand out in her hair. Where Layla is more subtly sexy, Quinn exudes it. There’s just something about her, about the way that she carries herself. It’s not just the tight clothes or the wild hair because even looking at her now everything about her has my body standing at attention and begging for more. Their differences aren’t a bad thing, something I’m starting to realize more now. In fact, spending time with Quinn is almost refreshing. If we didn’t argue so damn much that is. Because those moments, when we’re not arguing and are just being, they are actually enjoyable.

  “After what Layla did, I thought a change might be good. Besides…” My eyes are focused on Quinn, my mind on the words that Mason said last night. “I think Quinn might be exactly what I need.”

  My dad knocks his shoulder into mine. “Then what are you doing standing over here? You know how your grandfather is. Go get your girl.”

  “Don’t forget,” my mother calls out after me. “We’re having breakfast tomorrow.”

  I wave my hand in the air to acknowledge her, but keep my feet headed toward Quinn. “May I cut in?”

  “Sure. Steal what might be the last bit of pleasure an old man has,” my grandfather says with a wink. “It’s been a pleasure, Ms. Ford.”

  “The pleasure was all mine,” Quinn replies.

  Alone on the crowded dance floor I look down at Quinn. “Care to dance with me?”

  “No,” she replies. Her lips are pressed together in a tight thin line trying to hide a smile.

  “Too bad,” I tell her as I snake my arm around her. The minute I do, her body which was relaxed only moments ago, tenses. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but it needs to be the last. “You’re going to have to quit doing that.”

  “Doing what?” she asks. I can already hear the fury in her voice. She’s primed and ready for a fight like always.

  “Tensing every time that I touch you,” I say quietly.

  “I do not.”

  “You’re doing it right now…sweetie.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I catch Layla watching us. I don’t know why she’s looking or why she cares. She’s the reason we’re not here together like we planned to be. She’s the reason we’re not together period. Yet there she is, standing next to Maddox staring at me and Quinn. Glaring might be a better word. While I see her, my focus is on Quinn. How good she feels against me, how beautiful she looks when she’s pissed.

  “I am not,” she protests. There’s a fire in her eyes. I can’t help but wonder if it’s always been there, or if it’s something new. Because if it’s been there, how in the hell haven’t I noticed it before? And fuck, what a turn on. I think about what she said earlier, how great our make-up sex was. Sure, it was a lie, but I can’t help but think it would be even better than she alluded to. Suddenly, I want to start a fight with her just to find out.

  I tighten my hold on her, my hand pressing firmly to the small of her back. My lips brush up against her ear and I can hear her breath hitch just like it did earlier. “Baby, I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “I don’t want to fight with you either…honey.” Her voice is dripping with contempt and while there’s a smile on her face, it screams fuck you.

  The woman is beyond infuriating. Yet, I can’t seem to get enough. My grandfather was right, Quinn is vibrant. So much more full of life and energy than Layla ever was. Where Layla only seemed to care about how she looked, what people thought, and what our futures held, Quinn is more of a live in the moment person. And even though she looks pissed right now, I love this moment with her.

  “We should probably kiss,” I suggest.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “We’re a couple, Quinn. Don’t you think at some point it will look strange if we’ve never kissed? Besides, we’re good at it. I mean, I’ve had better but…”

  “Bullshit.” She runs a finger to my chest. “I felt exactly how much you liked it.”

  “I wasn’t exactly trying to hide it,” I tell her. It’s not exactly true. I tried to deny it. Part of me thinks I still should. I can’t, the pull is too strong. “I like k
issing you. I like making love to you even more.”

  She gives me a condescending laugh. “Making love? Really?”

  My voice is barely above a whisper. “Sounds a little classier than I fucked your brains out, doesn’t it?”

  “You’re assuming that’s what you did.”

  It’s my turn to laugh now. The woman orgasmed more times than I can count. “I’m not assuming anything. I know I did. I remember each and every time you screamed out my name.”

  “That doesn’t mean…”

  “Shut up, Quinn,” I tell her. As much as I enjoy arguing with her, kissing her is a hell of a lot better.

  I press my lips against hers in what’s supposed to be a tender brushing, just a tease. It’s so much more than that though. It’s slow and sexy and fucking making me hard as a rock. She moans softly into the kiss, her body pressing against mine. The last thing I want to do is stop, but if I don’t, God knows what we’ll end up doing in the middle of this room.

  Breaking our kiss, I brush my nose against hers and smile. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth forms a small O.

  “You okay?” I ask her.

  “That was…” She pauses.

  “Yeah, it was,” I agree.

  Without another word, Quinn walks away and heads directly to the bar. She grabs a glass of champagne and drinks it down.

  I don’t even care how it looks, her rushing away from me like that, because I know exactly what it means. That kiss affected her, just like it did me. It was more than a kiss, it was more than just desire, it was filled with emotion. Feelings I know she doesn’t understand. Things that she doesn’t believe in. While I don’t blame her, I fully intend on making a believer out of her.

  For now, though, I decide to play it cool. The last thing I need to do is overwhelm her. And she already looks like she’s on the damn edge as she downs a second glass of champagne.

  When I reach her, I grab a drink and smile down at her. “I think I proved my point.”

  “You proved nothing,” she protests. And… she’s back.

  I lean in, my forearms resting on the bar. “Why is it so hard for you to admit that you like kissing me?”

  “Because I have spent the better part of my life hating you. And if I like kissing you…”

  My mouth curves into a smile. “There is no if about it.”

  “I never knew you were so arrogant.”

  “Is it really arrogance though, if it’s true?” I shrug.

  As much as I’m enjoying this banter between us, I can see Quinn becoming flustered. The truth she let slip, the admission she almost made. For someone like Quinn who likes to keep things close to the vest, she’s treading into unchartered territory by opening up to me. Even if it’s about things I already knew.

  “I also never knew you were such a momma’s boy,” she says trying to change the subject.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I tell her. I extend my arm to her. “Shall we mingle?”

  She nods in appreciation of the out I’m giving her as she places her arm through mine.

  We make our way through the party; extreme caution being taken to avoid my family and their inquisitive nature at all costs. When we arrived, Quinn was noticeably nervous and now, she seems to have relaxed some. There’s a slight semblance of her confidence shining through. As it should be considering the woman is wooing every person in this damn place.

  At the risk of jinxing things, I think she might actually be having fun with me. We’re sitting at a table with Mason, Hudson, and a few others. She’s smiling and laughing, and I’m getting a kick out watching her.

  “Would you like to dance?” I ask her.

  “Honestly, I’m exhausted. And a little tipsy.”

  “Well, then,” I say as I stand. “Let’s get you to bed, pretty lady.”

  “That sounds so crazy coming from you,” she laughs as I help her to her feet.

  It’s not so crazy, I think to myself. We’ve already ended up there once. And God knows I want to end up there again and again.

  Quinn’s been through enough shit, though. So as much as I want her, I need to decide for certain what it is that I want her for before we go any further. Is this just sex? An inexplicable attraction? Or is it more?

  Breaking the silence of our long walk back to our room I tell her, “You were great tonight.”

  “Told you I can be convincing,” she says as though the kiss we shared was nothing more than an act. If it was, then she should win a goddamn academy award.

  We step into the room and I’m about to protest, call bullshit on her claim that it was just part of the show, when she grabs some stuff for her suitcase and walks into the bathroom.

  “Quinn?” I call after her.

  Just as she’s about to close the door, she stops, her head turning toward me. “Hmm?”

  I’m floored. The woman looking back at me, she’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before and, in that moment, I know – there’s something more.

  “You really do look beautiful tonight.”

  Her cheeks flush at the compliment and then she disappears into the bathroom.

  Chapter 16

  Quinn

  I sag against the bathroom door. Exhaustion overtaking me. Brushing my fingers against my lips, I smile at the memory of his lips being there.

  Jesus, am I really thinking about Hunter like this?

  Sure, yes, we had sex. And it was great. I’ll give him that. But this, the flip flops in my belly, the nervous energy coursing through my veins. That’s more than just sex. More than just want. With every word, every gentle touch, he makes me feel things. Things I’ve never felt before, things that I’ve only read about in fairy tales. Things that I thought were for girls that aren’t like me.

  And still, there they are. Front and center.

  For a man that not only have I known for years, but I’ve hated. Did I really misjudge him? Because the man I assumed he was nothing more than rich, judgmental, and stuck-up is anything but. He’s kind, and caring, and dare I even say it – fun.

  The worst part of it all is, as I stand here realizing all this, there is one other certainty I can’t shake.

  I don’t deserve him.

  My past, the things I’ve done – he’s better than that. He deserves someone more like Layla… minus the cheating.

  As I step into the shower, I try to remind myself that this is all just a charade. It’s fake. We’re not really together. No, we’re just getting swept up in the moment.

  A moment that started way before this trip.

  I stand under the scorching hot water letting it burn his touch off my skin in an attempt to rid me of still being able to feel it – feel him.

  Then I remind myself of who I am. The home-wrecking whore. The girl that refused to do what was needed to help her and her brother survive. The girl who doesn’t have one damn ounce of good in her and sure as hell doesn’t deserve a guy like Hunter.

  All I have to do now is gather up the courage to act like nothing happened, like he doesn’t affect me. That way I can face him again. Maybe.

  After my shower I take my time drying my hair, brushing my teeth, re-washing my face. Anything to avoid having to look into those blue eyes of his again.

  You can do this, Quinn. I try to champion myself, but it’s futile. One look at him and I’m going to be done for. One touch, and I’m his. One kiss and we’ll fall into bed and sate every damn need the other has until we’re drained of every ounce of energy.

  And today is only day two. I still have to manage the rest of this trip.

  My hand grabs the handle. I take a deep breath and blow it out. Cool. Calm. Casual.

  I open the door and freeze.

  Hunter is fast asleep on the couch.

  Because that’s what a gentleman does. And Hunter is nothing, if not a gentleman.

  Chapter 17

  Quinn

  Hunter being fast asleep on the couch last night when I exited the bathroom was a blessing
. It gave me time to relax. To get my head straight. To conjure up a plan where I can still help him and manage to maintain my distance. But thanks to Hayley’s itinerary, distance doesn’t seem like much of an option.

  With the exception of a few hours here and there, the entire trip is basically comprised of a series of events that everyone is expected to attend.

  Except for breakfast with Hunter’s parents. That is solely my own personal hell to endure.

  Standing at the entrance to the restaurant is a tall, elegant woman who is waving her arms and flagging us down. Dread sinks to the pit of my stomach. Not that his parents are terrible, they aren’t. At least, not what I know of them. No, I’m dreading this breakfast because I already know what’s coming.

  “Everything okay?” Hunter asks.

  “I am not prepared for this at all.”

  “Prepared?” he laughs. “Prepared for what?”

  I shrug. “A better background story for me. Something that…”

  His hand touches my arm. “Quinn, stop. Quit trying to be someone you’re not.”

  “If you want them to believe that we’re actually together, then I need to come up with something. Fast.”

  Hunter shakes his head. “I don’t want to have breakfast with some made up version of you. I want to have breakfast with you. The real you. Flaws, perfections, and everything in between.”

  “You don’t even have a clue what that means, or who I am.”

  “Then tell me. I want to know you, Quinn. The real you.”

  “You wouldn’t like her.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” he says.

  “So, will they.” And that, right there, is the biggest problem of all, isn’t it? The truth about me, who I am, where I came from? More than anything, I fear what they’ll think of me. That as much as I enjoy being here with Hunter, what will he think if he knew the real me? Every awful detail.

  “No one is judging you, Quinn. Not then. Not now. We’re just trying to get to know you,” Hunter says. Not then. Not now. “Please, Quinn. For me.”