I found my yellow dress on the floor. The pretty satin was crumpled, and I winced at its careless abandon in the cold light of day. Next to it sat my matching lace underwear. I held up the panties, noting they had a tear, not from being completely ripped off, but definitely torn in the desperation of swift removal. I closed my eyes for a brief moment to relive the memory of them fisted in his hands as he yanked them down my legs.
I took deep breaths to cool the surge of heat as I finished dressing. I dragged my fingers through my snarls and ran fingertips under my eyes, all the while prepping my mental fortress for the walk of shame.
I heard my phone shrill loudly from somewhere beyond the bedroom. Shoes in hand, I tiptoed out of the room to go search for it. Unfortunately he lived in a loft that appeared huge, and an immediate scan did not bring my phone or my little clutch to light. I heard a noise and my frantic search began in earnest, upending couch cushions, on chairs, looking behind bookshelves, under tables.
“Looking for something?”
I paused and closed my eyes, swallowing hard.
This was not cool.
This shit was so. not. cool.
On hands and knees I turned towards the voice to see a man in the kitchen that was not the man I had left sleeping in bed—full lips, short dirty blond hair—staring at me as he stood there in nothing but running shorts. My gaze lingered on a trail of sweat that ran down the middle of his chest to sink into his shorts, and I flushed from the tips of my mussed hair to the bottoms of the pretty pink toenail polish I’d applied with painstaking care yesterday.
The man cleared his throat, loudly, and my eyes snapped to his amused gaze.
“Oh.” I got up off my hands and knees. “I was just um…searching for my bag.”
He chuckled and pointed to my little clutch, sitting on the counter of the kitchen bench as though it was quite happy where it was and wasn’t prepared to leave. “You mean this one?”
I ran a hand over the wrinkled mess of my dress, fighting the urge to just let the clutch have its way and leave without it. Instead, I moved fast, snatching it off the bench and holding it to my chest.
The man’s grin got wider as he took in the dress that was busy proclaiming my lack of moral fibre.
“I’m Casey.”
My eyes fell to the hand he was holding out, and I took it in mine briefly. “Um…Quinn. I’m Quinn,” I managed before letting go of his hand and taking a step back. I indicated towards the door. “I’ll ah…just let myself out.”
“Wait,” Casey called when I started to flee. “Can I get you breakfast? Did Travis offer you a ride home?”
My eyebrows flew up. “Travis?”
Casey’s amusement returned at my confusion, and he nodded towards the bedroom I’d just come from.
I mumbled a rather unintelligent and nonsensical response and grabbed for the handle of the front door just as it was shoved open from the other side. I stumbled from the force, falling down on my backside with a painful and embarrassing thud.
“Oh shit. Sorry. I didn’t know you were there,” I heard the door shover exclaim.
I pushed the hair out of my face to see another gorgeous guy standing before me. Wasn’t the saying all bad things happened in threes? Was it the same case with guys? Do all hot guys happen in threes? If so, why didn’t I get the memo? This one looked a lot like Travis with his green eyes, golden skin, and silky hair, though his was dark brown, short, and mussed, as though he ran his fingers through it constantly.
I grasped the hand he was patiently holding out, and he hauled me up off the floor. I stumbled awkwardly to my feet.
“Why you’re just a little thing, aren’t you?” He observed, his eyes running the length of me.
I straightened my back, flushing wildly enough under the scrutiny to break out in a light sweat. He turned to look at Casey as I tried tugging my hand free but he held on tight.
“Airport hotdog. Five minutes.”
Casey let out a groan. “Not you with the nickname too.”
My mouth fell open as the other man laughed. “Hotdog?”
Casey looked at me and shook his head. “Don’t even ask.”
Assuming it was some lewd reference to wieners and buns I could only agree and shut my mouth.
“I’m Mitch,” the man said to me.
“Quinn,” I replied politely, tugging my hand free.
Mitch looked between Casey and me with a slight smirk. “So…you two know each other, huh?”
Before I could offer a retort, Casey grinned again and shook his head. “No, but she knows Travis, don’t you, Quinn?”
Oh my God.
I did, apparently, know Travis rather intimately. Reflecting back on last night left me with the knowledge he was a man I wouldn’t soon forget. It had been so long since I’d stopped giving my body away to anyone that made me feel good. I wanted to tell them I wasn’t the person who did this kind of thing, not anymore, but apparently I was. Just one night was all it took for me to revert back to my old ways.
Just to round out my embarrassment, the bedroom door opened and Travis emerged. The unfairness that he looked even better this morning than he did last night was not lost on me. The jeans he’d slid on were only half buttoned up, his hair was mussed from sleep, and his eyes were lowered sleepily, not making me want him any less than I did last night—even without the alcohol pulsing through my system.
Without replying to Casey, and before I could be noticed by Travis, I slipped quickly out the door, pulled it shut, and ran.
***
Chapter Three
After messaging Lucy, I felt pathetically grateful to see her squealing up the quiet street like Batman. Thankfully it was still early, and I didn’t have to worry about being seen by the public in what was obviously last night’s outfit. The door of her crappy, beat up Toyota Corolla creaked loudly as I flung it open and climbed in the passenger seat. The car was clean, yet it still smelled like a pair of week old gym socks. No matter how many aromatic hanging trees she had hung over the rear view mirror, the smell still remained. After buckling my seatbelt, she squealed off into the street.
“Holy shit, girlfriend!” she shrieked when she took in my dire appearance with a sideways glance. “You look like you’ve been dragged through the hedge backwards.”
I had no idea where to begin with that statement after the encounter I just had. Instead, I wound down the window and let the fresh, cool air blast away the residual heat of embarrassment on my cheeks.
“This is your fault,” I told her.
If it wasn’t for Lucy, I’d have been sitting at home last night, completely oblivious that such a man like Travis even existed. Now the vision of him biting down on my skin as his h*ps ground hard into mine was stuck on the repeat button inside my head, and I feared it would never stop. I didn’t want it to stop. Already, my body was craving his touch again.
“Hey!” she shouted when I stole the giant sunglasses off her face and jammed them on. My eyes were still gritty and sore—unused to nights out drinking and hot, wild sex. “How is it my fault? I can’t believe you went home with the holy f**k me gorgeous guy!”
I couldn’t believe I went home with him either. Travis was pure male perfection from the intensity of his green eyes to the way they’d burned with desire. I knew I had a long way to go with rebuilding my self-confidence, and I was working on that, yet I couldn’t help but wonder what it was he saw in me that had him touching me with such heat.
Lucy took her eyes off the road to raise her blue eyes at me in disbelief. They were bright and cool, the first thing I saw when I met her after moving in next door. I didn’t know what I’d have done without Lucy. The people I thought were friends found out I was pregnant and the shunning began, as though pregnancy was contagious. Idiots.
“Earth to Quinny.” Lucy snapped her fingers in my face, the car swerving dangerously with only one hand at the wheel. This was why I never, okay, hardly ever, got in the car with Lucy.
“What?”
“I asked if the man got your number? Is he going to call you?”
I grabbed a packet of gum out of the centre console and shoved it in my mouth, chewing furiously. The fresh taste in my mouth restored me a little.
“No. He didn’t get my number,” I replied.
“No? Why not? Does he think he’s too good for you?” Lucy pulled over to the kerb with a squeal of tyres, and I jerked in my seat, my stomach lurching. “I should go back and kick his ass,” she snarled.
“Lucy! No! I snuck out okay? He didn’t see me.”
“Oh.” Lucy lips pressed flat in apparent disappointment she couldn’t get in a fist fight on my behalf. “Well, did you get a photo of him?”
“No!” I laughed at her hopeful expression. “I’m not so depraved that I need to take a photo of his ass to look at every time I feel like being a perverted troll.”
She didn’t indicate before pulling back out into traffic. A driver behind us tooted after getting cut off, and Lucy took a hand off the steering wheel to give him the finger.
“The photo was for me, moron, so I can be the perverted troll.”
I rolled my eyes. “As if you’d look twice at another man besides Rick.”
Lucy and Rick had something special. I liked to think I wasn’t bitter or resentful, but I had to admit that sometimes it was hard to watch without feeling sad at what I once had with Ethan. Would we still be together now if he was alive? I would often wonder how different my life might have been if I hadn’t lost him. Lately I found myself thinking about it less and less, and that hurt as well, as though I was leaving Ethan behind.
“Come on, Quinn. I’ve been married since the end of time. You’re single so it’s my right as your bestest friend in the whole world to live vicariously through you.”
“How can you do that? This is the first time I’ve had sex in forever, remember?”
Lucy snorted. “Well I didn’t say you were doing a good job of it, did I?”
I laughed, but inside I pushed down on the ache that pounded a little harder when I thought of Travis.
“Did you get his number?” she asked, obviously determined not to let this go. “Are you going to call him?”
“No! I’m not going to call him. No relationships for me, Luce. You know that. I’m not ready for anything like that. I don’t know when or if I ever will be.”
She huffed and it sounded almost sad. “Maybe it’s time, Quinn. To let go of Ethan. To let go of your past. To move on. To live. Someone who could protect you—”
“I don’t need to be protected,” I interrupted.
I’d proved I could stand on my own two feet. The good news was that I’d had time to enjoy my independence because David was gone. The police had photographed my injuries and charged him with assault. Four years in prison was deemed the suitable punishment, yet I was still struggling to sleep properly at night. Four years didn’t automatically give me back what I’d lost, and in six months he’d be out. Despite a restraining order already in place, it was just a piece of paper. David knew where I lived. Soon I would need to think about moving, but for now it was hard to let go of having Lucy and Rick next door. Not to mention I needed a job in order to sign a new lease. While my contract position with Jettison Records had been extended continually, it had ended a week ago with an employee returning from maternity leave. Kind enough not to kick me to the kerb, my employers put me forward for the band assistant position I would soon be interviewed for.