14. Fourteen
Fourteen
Vince
Despite my need to get back to Jasmine, the drive back to Quinn’s place seems way too short. I keep glancing over at her as she leans comfortably back against the leather seat, her eyes fixed on the passing streetlights that illuminate her profile. God, she’s beautiful. All those fiery red curls cascading around her shoulders, the curve of her neck begging for the brush of my lips.
When we pull up to her building, I kill the engine, and the quiet settles over us. The tension crackles softly in the air, and I feel that familiar heat burn low in my stomach.
She turns to me with an easy smile, like this isn’t killing her as much as it is me. “Thank you for tonight, Vince. It was nice.”
“Nice?” I tease, leaning toward her. “That’s all I get? I must be losing my touch.”
She laughs softly, her hazel eyes glinting with mischief. “Okay, fine. It was more than nice. But don’t let it go to your head.”
Everything inside me screams to pull her toward me and kiss her again. To carry her upstairs and spend the night exploring exactly what makes her gasp—but then my phone vibrates in my pocket, and I immediately check it.
Another photo from Grace. Jasmine clutching her favorite elephant in her sleep. Something inside me melts.
Quinn’s expression softens, turning almost wistful. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t keep you. You’ve probably hit your separation limit.”
“At least let me walk you to your door,” I say. “After all, I can be a gentleman.”
“Vince Savage, a gentleman? I never heard you described that way. Womanizer, Playboy, even manwhore but a gentleman?”
“Yeah, no need to rub it in. That reputation is in the past,” I tease, brushing my thumb over her knuckles before stepping out of the Range Rover to help her down. “How the mighty have fallen. Me, the notorious Vince Savage, rushing home before midnight.”
“Actually,” she says, eyes dancing with amusement, “I think you did pretty well tonight. For a practice run, anyway.”
I laugh under my breath, shaking my head. “Does that mean I passed?”
“With flying colors,” she confirms, then adds with a playful gleam in her eyes, “Maybe next time I’ll let you meet Luna.”
“The infamous Luna, cat, destroyer of fine household objects?”
“Hey, that vase had it coming.” She grins, walking closely beside me, close enough that her arm brushes mine with each step.
The porch light casts a soft glow over her face as we reach her door, neither of us quite ready to say goodnight. Her emerald dress shimmers with each movement, and all I can think about is how much I want to pull her close.
A month ago, this would have been simple. I’d have followed her inside without a second thought, her dress off and on the floor within minutes, adding another conquest to my legendary reputation. But now...
“You’re dying to get home, aren’t you?” Quinn’s knowing smile holds no judgment, just understanding.
“Is it that obvious?” I reach out, unable to stop myself from brushing a wayward curl from her cheek. Her skin is silk under my fingertips. “Sorry. I used to be better at this whole dating thing.”
“You mean the famed Vince Savage seduction routine?” She doesn’t step away from my touch, and her perfume—light and citrusy—makes my head spin. “I’ve heard stories.”
“All lies.” I grin, letting my hand drop reluctantly. “I was much worse.”
She laughs, the sound warming something in my chest I didn’t even know was cold. “You know, as your social media manager, I should probably warn you that your reputation is taking another serious hit tonight. Even if you did last a whole three hours.”
“Two hours and forty-seven minutes,” I correct automatically, then wince. “God, I really have turned into that guy, haven’t I?”
“That guy who adores his daughter?” Her eyes sparkle. “What image do you want, Vince?”
The way she’s looking at me, soft and warm in the porch light, breaks my restraint.
“Maybe it’s better if I show you.” I lean down, drawn to her like gravity, unable to resist tasting her smile. This kiss is softer than the one at the restaurant. It’s sweeter but somehow more dangerous. Because it feels like a beginning, like something I could get addicted to.
For a moment, she melts into it, her hands coming up to rest lightly on my chest. Then, with obvious reluctance, she pulls back.
“Vince...” Her voice is breathless, but there’s resolve in it. “We can’t. I have rules about dating clients.”
“Rules are made to be broken,” I murmur, though I don’t move to kiss her again.
“Not these.” She takes a small step back, but her hands linger on my chest. “I love what I do. My reputation...”
“I know.” I catch one of her hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “But you can’t blame a man for trying.”
“Thank you for understanding.” Her smile combines relief and regret.
“You know, Red, I’ll be leaving on tour soon…”
“How are you going to manage being away from Jasmine for an entire week?”
The thought makes my stomach clench. “That will be hard. Grace said she’d send updates, and there’s always FaceTime.”
“I’ll be sure to send you texts about what to put on social media,” Quinn reminds me. “To keep you from posting sad daddy selfies at 3 AM.”
“Does that mean you’ll be thinking about me at 3 AM?”
Her cheeks flush beautifully. “Behave yourself, Mr. Savage.”
“We’re back to Mr. Savage, huh?” I take a deliberate step back, respecting her boundaries even as everything in me rebels against them. “I should go. Grace probably thinks I’ve gotten lost.”
“Or reverted to your old ways,” she teases, fishing her keys from her clutch.
“Nah.” I watch as she unlocks her door. “These days, you’ll find me running home to be with my precious baby girl.”
She laughs again, but there’s something wistful in it. “Goodnight, Vince. Give Jasmine a kiss for me.”
“Goodnight, Red.” I wait until she’s safely inside before heading to my car, already missing her warmth.
The drive home gives me too much time to think about what might have happened if things were different. If I wasn’t responsible for a tiny human who needs me. If Quinn didn’t have a strict no-dating clients policy. If I was still the man who would gladly spend all night exploring those constellation freckles without a care in the world.
But I’m not that man anymore. And somehow, watching Quinn walk away with a promise of something more feels better than any one-night stand ever did.
I traverse the familiar private drive to my house, but my mind is still back on Quinn’s porch, replaying that kiss. Even now, I can taste the lingering sweetness of her lips, feel the way she melted against me for that brief moment before reality kicked in.
I park next to Grace’s sensible Honda and let myself in quietly. The house is dim except for the soft glow from the kitchen, where I find my very proper British nanny preparing a cup of tea.
“Welcome back,” Grace whispers, turning around to greet me. Jasmine’s nursery monitor is clipped to her apron. The ultimate nanny, ready for action, even at this hour.
“Everything go alright?” I ask, glancing automatically upstairs toward the nursery.
“Perfectly.” Grace’s smile is kind and reassuring. “Jasmine woke up once and fussed a little. I gave her the teething gel. I’m pretty sure there’s another tooth coming in on the bottom. But I got her back to sleep, no problem. She’s a dream.”
“She is,” I agree, unable to hide my relief.
Grace tilts her head slightly. “Did you enjoy your night out?”
I can’t hide the smile tugging at my lips, so I don’t bother trying. “Yeah. I did.”
“It’s good to see you enjoying yourself.” Her tone is gentle, not prying, but quietly observant.
“Thanks again, Grace.” I run a hand through my hair, suddenly weary from all the ups and downs today. “Really.”
“Anytime. And for the record,” Her eyes twinkle knowingly. “It gets easier, Mr. Vince.”
She disappears down the hall to her room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Her words ring softly in my ears— it gets easier . Will it, though? Being away from Jasmine for a few hours was tough enough. How am I going to manage days away when the tour starts?
I make my way quietly to my room, peeling off my jacket and letting it fall carelessly across a chair. As I head into the en-suite, thoughts of Quinn still swirl in my mind—her laugh echoing warmly, the gentle way her lips parted when she smiled, the softness in her eyes that made everything else fade into the background. I splash water onto my face, staring into the mirror and hardly recognizing the guy staring back at me.
As steam fills the bathroom, I step into the shower, letting the hot water spray against my skin. My mind wanders, imagining Quinn here—laughing beneath the spray, hazel eyes bright, freckles dancing across her shoulders as water splashes down her skin.
God. I lean my head under the stream, pressing my palms against the tile wall. I need to slow down. I’m already in over my head, and that’s exactly where I swore I wouldn’t end up.
But Quinn makes it impossible not to think about possibilities—about futures, about dreams I’ve always dismissed as nonsense.
As I continue to shower under the pounding hot water, I can’t help but imagine what might have happened if Quinn didn’t have her rule about clients, if I was still the Vince Savage who could sweep a woman off her feet and into my bed without a second thought.
But Quinn... she deserves more than my old playboy moves. More than just another notch on my bedpost. The way she looks at me—really sees me—makes me want things I’ve never wanted before. Her laugh, that teasing glint in her eyes when she calls me on my bullshit, how she doesn’t judge me for checking my phone every five minutes...
Christ, I’m in trouble.
A louder cry through the monitor snaps me out of my Quinn-induced haze. I quickly dry off, pull on sleep pants, and pad down the hall to the nursery.
“Hey, baby girl,” I murmur, lifting Jasmine from her crib. Her face is scrunched up in discomfort, her tiny fists balled against my bare chest. “Teething isn’t very fun, huh?”
I grab the teething gel and settle into the rocker, cradling her while I gently massage her sore gums. Her big green eyes—so like mine—stare up at me trustingly.
“Jazz,” I whisper, “There’s this woman... you like her too. She’s nothing like the others. She makes me want to be a better man.” I stroke her cheek as her eyes start to flutter. “But she’s got rules. Smart rules. And you, little one, you’re my priority, and you always will be.”
I shift her in my arms, breathing in her soft baby smell. “Before you came along, my life was all noise and chaos. I thought I was happy, but I was just...existing.” I swallow hard, the weight of responsibility threatening to overwhelm me. “I’m terrified of screwing this up, you know that? Every decision I make now, it’s about you. Making sure you’re safe, making sure you stay with me.”
My voice catches. “I’ve got the best lawyer making sure no one can ever take you away. But being a good father? That’s on me. And sometimes... sometimes, I wonder if I’m enough—if I can be a good father. But I’m going to try, sweetheart. I promise.”
She sighs softly, nuzzling closer, and my throat tightens with emotion.
“You know,” I murmur, rocking slowly, her warmth comforting against my chest. “You’re making me soft. Before you, my nights ended a whole lot differently.”
She yawns, eyes drifting shut, fingers curling around my thumb. My heart swells, unfamiliar emotions threatening to choke me. I never expected this. I never thought I’d be here, rocking gently in a moonlit nursery, completely wrapped around the tiny finger of someone so impossibly small.
“You’ve got me right where you want me, kiddo,” I whisper, brushing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Your old man is finally having to grow up.”
Jasmine’s breathing evens out, her warm weight growing heavier against me. I should put her back in her crib, but I can’t bring myself to move. Instead, I find myself humming the melody that’s been playing in my head all evening. A mix of Quinn’s laughter and Jasmine’s sweet smiles.
For the first time since picking up my electric guitar at fifteen, I’m writing a love song.
Fuck.