“You’re standing like someone has their hand up your ass working you like a puppet.”
Colton laughs at Drake’s comment and slaps him on the back. But I’m not in the mood to explain this shit.
“Are we doing this or not?” I say, gesturing to the realtor who’s waiting for us by the front door.
We spend the next hour walking through the vacant building we’re considering for the restaurant.
“As you gentlemen can see, it’s turnkey in the sense that no major renovations are needed. You have your designated dining and kitchen space already, and the electrical and plumbing completely passed code, which is usually a big money pit.”
We walk around the place. The previous owners were only here for a short time and left it in great condition. We would need to completely redesign the seating layout and the bar area, but I imagine it’s something that could be knocked out in a month, then pretty soon, we’d be giving other bars and restaurants like Door 222 and Origins a run for their money.
The realtor finishes walking us through everything and says he’s going to step out to take a call and let us discuss things on our own. Within 15 seconds, both Drake and Colton are cornering me again.
“What’s this about Justine?” Drake asks.
“Ask your idiot brother. He’s the one who brought her up.”
“I was just asking if she’s the reason you’re acting like a dick today.” Colton flashes me a big grin. I know they’re just teasing me, but I’m really not in the mood.
“It’s not Justine!” I shout as I walk back toward the kitchen to get away from them. It’s no use. They both follow me and stand there staring at me until I give them something.
“It’s my new tenant. She . . . I don’t know her, but fuck me, I can’t get her out of my head.” I’m not sure why, but I let my guard down for a minute. I don’t tend to share my feelings, but Drake and Colton know me better than anyone, and hell, maybe I do want to talk about it with someone.
Drake crosses his arms and leans back against one of the counters with a smirk on his face while Colton hops up on the counter itself. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face. “Go on.”
“Not much to say. I don’t know her, and I’ve barely talked to her.”
“Oh, come on, man, you can’t set it up like that then not deliver. What’s your plan?” Drake asks.
“My plan?”
“Yeah, your plan. You going to ask her out?”
I knew this was a mistake. These idiots think it’s more than it is. “Nope. Not my circus, not my monkeys.”
“The classic evasive Sawyer response. You know, someday you’re going to want a circus full of monkeys.” Drake pushes off the counter and puts his hand on my shoulder.
Here it comes, the old we’re so happy with our wives and kids speech.
“Look, Sawyer, I know you’ve been through the shit the last few years, but I’m telling you, there’s more to life than fly fishing and drinking whiskey until you pass out at night. If you like the woman, just give it a shot. She’s not here permanently, so what bad could really come of it?”
He has a point. She’s here for three months, and I’ve already booked the place for the six months after that, so it’s not like she could stay longer even if she wanted to. But I kick the thought out of my head just as quickly as it entered. I don’t need to be thinking with my dick right now.
“You guys think we should make an offer on the place or what?” I ask, ignoring their stares. They both shake their heads and follow me as I walk outside.
“I feel good about the place, so I’m ready to get things moving.” Colton looks to Drake, who agrees. We shake hands and call the realtor over to talk numbers.
It’s nearing dusk when I pull back into my driveway. I glance at the clock, and it’s just past 6 p.m. The headlights of my truck pan across the front of the house and illuminate a small figure sitting on the bench by my front door. My chest tightens when I see Quinn stand up with a basket in her hands and a timid grin on her face. She has that orange hoodie on again and the furry boots from earlier. I kill the engine and sit for a brief second as our eyes linger. I grab my thermos, step out of the truck, and make my way toward her.
“Evening. You need something?”
“Hey there, I um . . . well, I made you some muffins.” She thrusts the basket toward me.
“Thank you?” I say, a little confused.
“I hope you like blueberry. I was going to make banana nut, but then I realized I didn’t know if you had a nut allergy or something. Those are nut-free. No nuts were harmed in the making of those muffins,” she says with a nervous laugh, then her face turns a slight shade of pink when she realizes the innuendo.
I’m not sure what to say since I’ve already thanked her, so I step around her to open my front door. Before I can step inside, she spins around and stops me.
“Actually, I was hoping I could make you dinner?” Her voice goes up a few octaves at the end, like she’s unsure of herself.
“Why?”
“Just, ya know, to say thank you for letting me stay here I guess.”
“Well, you booked it and paid for it, so I’m not really doing you a favor.” I see her expression fall as I realize that sounded harsher than I meant it. A pang of guilt hits me and I backtrack.
“But, um, I guess that would be fine.”
“Great!” Her smile is back and she rubs her hands together giddily. “I’ll go grab the stuff and be right back.” She turns and scampers down the stairs to the lower level.
God-fucking-dammit.
I don’t want this damn woman in my house. I don’t want her permeating my personal space . . . even though she’s already set up camp in my head.
“Great,” I mumble to myself as I make my way inside and flick on the lights. I have the sudden panic of realizing a woman is about to be in my home, so I look around to make sure it’s not too much of a shit show. I’m a clean and tidy guy, but I’m still lazy sometimes. I throw the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and wipe down the counter before making sure there aren’t any dirty glasses or empty beer bottles hanging around the living room.
A few moments later, she’s knocking on the front door I left standing ajar, then stepping through the entryway. I glance over my shoulder and see her standing there with another basket in her hands, looking around the room in her oversized hoodie. She looks like Little Red Riding Hood, sweet and innocent. Very fitting considering I’m the big bad wolf who has to keep talking himself out of devouring her.
I push the thought from my head before it can take on a life of its own and snowball into something that has my dick reminding me that it hasn’t been touched in forever.
“Kitchen is right there.” I point and she scurries over after slipping off her boots by the front door. “You want something to drink?” I ask as I pour myself a tumbler of Slade Whiskey. It’s their newest batch and it’s smooth as hell. It has hints of vanilla and smoky maple, two of my favorite flavors. The moment it hits my tongue and I savor the burn, I wonder what Quinn would taste like.
“Yeah, sure, whatever you’re having,” she says. I grab a glass and pour her some as I force the thought from my head. “Oh, do you like salmon?” she asks. “That’s what I’m making.”