Page 38 of Sweet Ache (Driven 6)
“Well, thank God! I didn’t realize I would’ve been such a horrible mistake—”
“No! That’s not what I meant—”
“I don’t believe I heard you stutter.” Emotions run at a rampant pace through me, hurt, anger, disbelief. I shake my head and look out of the window as the sting of tears unexpectedly burns the back of my throat.
I’m not an overly emotional girl. I’m not one of those annoying criers who sheds a tear when someone looks at them cross-eyed, so why the hell does his comment create such a visceral reaction from me?
“Quin.” His voice is low and apologetic, like gravel scraping my ears.
“Just leave it, Hawke. Point made. No worries about that girl wanting anything more from you. I’ve got to get back to my work.” I turn my back without saying another thing, once again mad at myself for allowing him to cause such internal conflict within me.
And that’s scary in itself because all we’ve shared are a few groping kisses. I should see the sign blinking HEARTBREAKER a mile away, but instead all I feel is that he’s worth the risk.
He blows out an audible breath behind me and yet I don’t hear any footsteps walking away. I busy myself, well aware of the heat of his stare burning in my back.
“Can I get your number?”
Sarcasm weaves through my laugh mixed with a quiet thrill that he asked. And then it’s dashed when I realize he’s only asking to save face. “Now you’re just making me feel like a pity case. No need for you to scrape the bottom of the barrel.”
“That’s not it at all. Between Hunter and Vince … I just wasn’t … I can’t explain it here. It’s complicated…. I wanted to call you to apologize but didn’t have your number.”
I hear the sincerity in his voice but at the same time can’t be sure if it’s real. “Mm-hm.” It’s the only thing I say, needing him to go and leave me be so I can go out with Layla, lose myself in someone else for a few hours—or more—and make that sweet ache I feel for him not so sweet.
“So can I get your number?” he asks again.
“Your charm isn’t going to work on me this time rocker boy.” I set my pen down so that I don’t use it to write out my number and glance over to him.
“Yes it will,” he says, that shy smile that calls to me turning up one corner of his mouth. He makes a show of putting the lollipop in his mouth before he nods and walks off.
Of course my mind veers to Rylee’s comment in Sonoma about how many licks it takes to get to the center of a certain Tootsie Pop. Different man, same thought, I think while I watch every delicious inch of his backside as he walks with that swagger out the door. Gotta love a man asserting himself and then walking away with the confidence that he will get what he wants.
And I’m not going to lie, a little thrill shoots through me but only for a minute before I shake the idea off that has heartbreak written all over it in an extra thick Sharpie. The writing is definitely on the wall and no matter how pretty the ink looks, it will still bleed through and stain the layers beneath permanently.
Chapter 11
QUINLAN
Traffic sucks so bad it takes me forever to crawl the few miles from the university to my house. To make matters worse, I keep hearing Hawkin’s voice in my head and my level of confusion is at an all-time high.
I try to rationalize it all but realize that since I’m thinking of a man, there’s no use in even trying to.
I turn down my street, anxious to get home and relax a bit before Layla arrives for our night of anticipated debauchery. My phone rings and after the day I’ve had, I can’t help but smile at the one man that continues to prove time and time again that at least he thinks I’m desirable.
“Luke Mason,” I say aloud for the speaker to pick up.
“Quinlan Westin,” he mimics. “How goes it?”
“It goes. And you?”
“It’d go a helluva lot better if some hot little Cali girl would let me take her out this weekend since I’m going to be in her neck of the woods.” I hear the hope laced with amusement in his tone and for some reason it’s just what I needed to hear at this moment.
Something in me gives—maybe it’s Luke’s temerity, or a need to feel wanted amid Hawke’s rejection, the need to defy my brother’s orders, or the promise to myself that I’d accept the next offer that came my way—and I laugh. “You know Luke—today just might be your lucky day.”
The line falls silent and for a moment I fear I dropped the call and my dramatic little comment went unappreciated. “How lucky of a day?” he asks, finally breaking the silence.
And I can play off his comment so many ways but I’m suddenly feeling kind of like my old self, sassy and spunky. The bit of confidence I lost over the situation with Hawkin returns and I decide to just go for it. “Well, you’re going to get lucky all right, it just kind of depends on you if the luck is on the platonic or on the good-morning level.”
He clears his throat and my grin widens as I pull in my driveway, pleased that I’ve made someone happy today. “A girl who plays hard to get and then plays get him hard … Hm. I guess we’ll see where the night takes us.”
