Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
QUINN
As August goes into his back office to search for something to cover me, I visit the small bathroom to clean up. In the mirror, I see my skin is flushed, my hair is a mess, and there are little spiders of frost on the places where he held me.
I’ve never felt more beautiful.
When I walk back out, August still hasn’t returned.
I slip behind the front counter, just in case some curious kid walks by the front door and decides to press his face against the window.
I’d rather not have the police called on me for indecency.
The lights in the shop are off—thank the goddess—but there’s still enough of a glow from the kitchen that I can see.
Staring out at the space with its rustic decoration, it’s almost as if August has carved out a small piece of Alaska and brought it here for us all to experience. I have very little claim on the man, but I can’t help but feel proud of him.
It’s also sexy as hell that he’s a successful business owner who made his dream come true. Maybe as time goes on, he’ll let me lay claim, and then I can be as proud as I want. Also have access to unlimited ice cream.
When I think of ice cream, my stomach clenches, reminding me that instead of eating my glorious treat, I let the whole thing melt onto the floor. And after a rousing bout of sexcapades with August, I’m ravenous.
One of the perks of getting ravished in an ice cream shop should be an icy postcoital treat.
I reach for a scooper before approaching the glass case that holds all of August’s delicious creations. A scoop of Fiery Queen will hit every possible spot that his tongue didn’t.
The container’s door slides open with a soft swish, and I lean closer to discern which metal pan holds the flavor I’m looking for.
It takes me less than a second to discover a catastrophic problem.
There’s no ice cream. Not anymore.
All that exists in this display case is flavored milk.
Every bit of the ice cream is melted.
Desperate to prove that my eyes are lying to me, I reach out with my bare hand. I plunge a finger into room-temperature liquid.
“I don’t have any pants, but this extra-large T-shirt should keep you decent enough until you get home.” August walks out of the back hallway, holding a huge navy-blue shirt that proclaims Land of Ice Cream and Snow across the front.
The guilt must be clear on my face because his grin falters and his steps quicken.
“What’s wrong, Quinn?”
“I’m so sorry. I-I thought I had it under control. That being with you fixed everything.” The words hurt to say as I force them from my shame-tightened throat.
August’s steps echo through the shop as he approaches me. While he stares down at the destruction, I snatch the shirt from his hand and tug it over my head. My naked body embarrasses me because I can’t help but think about the ruin my sexual urges bring with them.
“There wasn’t much left. It’s not a big deal,” he offers.
“But this isn’t all the ice cream you have, is it?”
August scratches the back of his neck, then tilts his head toward the kitchen. I follow him, even though I want to go hide under one of the tables. Better yet, I want to rewind ten minutes. Back to when everything was glorious.
Inside the brightly lit room is a cooler large enough to fit a human body. August pops open the top.
I moan in self-disgust.
Soup. It’s all fucking melted as soup.
He doesn’t bother to shut the lid, instead turning to cross the kitchen to where a heavy metal door takes up a portion of the wall. When he unlatches it, I realize there’s a massive walk-in freezer.
I don’t dare follow, worried that the heat might still be leaking out of my pores without me realizing.
“Everything in here is still frozen,” August assures me, stepping back into view and offering a conciliatory smile.
The guilt isn’t done with me though. Not when I’m standing next to what must be gallons of melted mess.
“What about this?” I point to the cooler. “Can you refreeze it?”
August grimaces, then quickly smooths the expression off his mouth, clearly worried about me seeing it.
“You can’t, can you?” Mortification burns through me, though the heat is nothing compared to what I must have been putting out just minutes ago.
“No.” My fantasy man’s shoulders shrug as he returns to my side. “I mean, technically, I can. But it’s a health hazard. It’s okay though. I can always make more.”
August’s large hand reaches for me, but I step away, my heels clicking from my retreat. I cross my arms over my chest, probably looking like I’m trying to defend myself. But I’m not the one who needs protection.
“How long will it take to replace all of this? How much will it cost?” I whisper the questions, scared of the answers.
“Don’t worry—”
“August! I melted half your stock! How are you not furious with me right now?”
“You didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”
I try not to flinch, but I can’t help it.
An accident. How many accidents do I have to have with my powers before I admit that I’m a menace? Even though I don’t mean to cause trouble, I can’t pretend I don’t know that it follows me around like a destructive shadow.
“I should go.” Without waiting for a response from him, I hurry toward the front door. My fingers are fumbling with the lock when he catches up.
“Quinn, wait.”
I don’t look at him. I can’t. “Let me know how much stock I ruined. I’ll pay you back.”
The metal latch slides free, but the door doesn’t budge. That’s when I realize a huge Viking hand hovers above my head, holding the door closed.
“I’m not worried about the money.”
A huff of disbelief escapes me.
“You’re a new business. Of course you should be worried about the money!
This isn’t a free cone you hand out on a whim, August. I melted at least a day’s worth of product.
Probably more.” I whirl around to glare at him.
It’s that or I burst into tears. “You should be interrogating me right now. Trying to find out if I work for the competition.”
A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth, and it makes me want to pull my hair out by the roots. “If you are a saboteur, I doubt you’d tell me.”
“Unless I’m trying to lull you into a false sense of security!” My emotions are on a rampage, spilling out of my mouth in nonsense. At least nothing of what I’m feeling is lust.
The neediness for August and his body doesn’t even hint at resurfacing when I see that he’s starting to full-on grin. That he’s not mad.
Just like that, he’s already forgiven me.
Making the same mistake my sisters do.
I don’t need coddling or jokes or work-arounds.
I need a fix.
Because I’m a problem.
I’m a walking, talking equation with no solution in sight. I thought August was the missing component. Turns out, he’s only a means to a mildly less destructive result.
This isn’t good enough.
I’m not good enough.
Don’t any of them see that?
“I need to go home.” I turn back toward the door, not wanting him to witness the extent of the self-loathing I’m descending into.
“I …” August starts, then lets out a laugh on a sigh. “I want to go with you, but I do need to figure out what needs to be replaced.”
“You should. Take stock of the damage.”
“Quinn.” He whispers my name, his breath brushing against my neck as he leans down. “Kiss me?”
If it had been a demand, I might have been able to pull on my bitch cape and fly off into the night with a sassy, Hell no!
But the question is clear in his voice. The doubt. And it makes me feel like a whole different kind of destructive.
I’ll probably get whiplash from the back and forth of facing away, then facing him again.
This time, when I turn, I do it fast enough that his eyes can’t catch mine.
My arms fling around his neck, wrapping python tight.
I plaster my body to his and offer the kiss he asked for.
I make it deep but quick, scared of my own lust. Just as I feel the shift in his shoulders that proceeds his hands dropping to my waist, I let go.
With him too distracted to keep the door shut, I make my escape.
Only my hurried walk across the parking lot in red heels and an XXL T-shirt doesn’t feel anything like freedom.
That will forever exist in the space under August’s hands.
A place I’m not sure I’ll ever get to visit again.