12
The Morning After the Night Before
W hen Quinn awoke in the morning with a splitting headache, she immediately looked over and felt relieved to see Meg and Belle safe in the other bed. Last night was fuzzy in her mind, and once her head hit the pillow, she’d slept like the dead. Quinn lay there in the quiet of the morning trying to piece together the events of the night. Ugh, she cringed as the memories trickled back to her. Trying to push them and her pounding headache from her mind, she drifted back to sleep.
Later that morning, once everyone was awake, they headed to the hotel restaurant for a greasy breakfast to chase off the hangovers they were all suffering from. “Sooo, what happened with the guys after I left?” Quinn asked taking a bite of her bacon. “I want details.”
“Nothing much for me. We had a good time dancing, but meh. Meg and I left not long after you,” Belle said, sprinkling a solid layer of salt and pepper over her eggs Benedict.
Megan was smiling to herself as she absently picked at her scrambled eggs.
“Spill it, Megs,” Quinn quipped, having noticed her friend’s light-hearted demeanour since they’d gotten up.
“Well,” she said, looking up from under her golden brow, “we exchanged numbers, and Travis has been texting me all morning.” Her cheeks flushed and she beamed like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Ooh, so it was a good night then.” Quinn said, excited for her friend. In fairness, it was a rare occasion if Megan did not exchange numbers with a guy at the bar—if not a few guys. More often than not, it ended at the phone number exchange. The fact that they were still texting the morning after was a good sign.
“We had a fun night from what I remember of it.” She laughed. “Ugh, the hangover sucks, but I think I kinda like him.” A flush of pink crept on her apple cheeks.
“Shit, I had no idea you were into him. I thought you were just drunk making out. Now I feel kinda bad for making you leave,” Belle glanced up between shovelling forkfuls of ketchup-laden hash browns into her mouth.
Meg snickered. “It was probably good you dragged me outta there before the ugly lights came on. I drank way too much.” She quivered.
“You were pretty hammered, getting you into an Uber was not fun.” Belle grimaced.
“Sorry, babes. Thanks for getting me home safely.” Megan patted her leg and leaned a head on her hoody-clad shoulder.
Belle was still grinning. “Yeah, yeah, you owe me, Megan Mitchel.”
Meg attempted to gulp down her orange juice and nearly choked on a festive sprig of rosemary. Sputtering, she whipped the offending herb out onto the table. “God-damn Christmas everywhere,” she muttered.
Belle and Quinn eyed her and laughed.
Swallowing the last of her juice in dramatic fashion, her eyes narrowed on Quinn. “What about you, Quinn? How did you get back to the inn? I didn’t even know you’d left. It was like a blizzard when we got out. I feel kinda bad you left on your own.”
Quinn flashed back to the night before and rubbed a hand over her eyes feeling embarrassed.
“I was fine. I ended up getting a ride.”
“With who?” Belle asked wide-eyed. Her fork full of creamy eggs Benedict paused mid-air.
“Take a guess,” Quinn said, putting her napkin over her plate, deciding she was done eating.
Megan and Belle both stared at her dumbfounded.
“Did you meet someone last night too? The last I saw you, you were dancing by yourself in your own world,” Meg teased her.
“Nope, I didn’t meet anyone in the bar. Well, unless you count the sweet crazy women in the girl’s washroom who fed me shooters.” She scoffed.
“Bar washroom friends are the best.” Meg grinned knowingly.
“Then who the heck drove you back here?” Belle asked, a perplexed look in her dark eyes.
“I know! I know!” Meg said excitedly. “Hot Cop!”
Quinn nodded.
“Wait, what? Really?” Meg sobered.
“Noo!” Belle said at the same time. Both her girls just stared at her from across the table, wide-eyed.
Quinn laughed at their deer-in-the-headlight expressions. “I know, crazy, right?” She fiddled with a paper packet of sugar.
“Right, start at the beginning. We want every gory detail!” Meg picked up her tiny hotel coffee mug and sipped intently.
Quinn told them everything starting with the guy who spilled his drink on her.
“So the second time he caught you, you think he held his arms around you longer than necessary?” Belle asked, needing further clarification as to every exact detail.
“I don’t know. Well, yes, I think so. I mean, it was longer than the first time.”
“And it felt good?” Megan grinned conspiratorially.
Quinn rolled her eyes and then scrunched them closed. She wasn’t going to lie to her friends. They’d call her out if she even tried. “A bit,” she conceded.
“And he smelled good?” Belle's black-brown eyes burrowed into Quinn’s, waiting for confirmation.
“Yes.” She sighed heavily in resignation. “So good. Like peppermint and cedar wood and fresh yummy spiciness.” She bit her lip. “But then things took a turn, I wasn’t feeling very well.”
“Please, for the love of God, tell me you didn’t puke,” Meg said her nostrils flared in apparent distaste.
Quinn folded tiny corners on the sugar packet. “I puked,” she said in a barely-there voice.
“Uh, God. In front of him?” Meg was incredulous.
“And you are a terrible puker. You always sound like a freight train is roaring out of you. It’s kind of terrifying.” Belle quivered as she simultaneously ran her forkful of food over the last of the hollandaise sauce and ketchup on her plate and popped it into her mouth.
“Thanks, Belle.” Quinn shot her a look.
“It’s true, Quinn. We’ve witnessed it more than once. It’s nasty when you puke.” Meg waved for the server’s attention as she was about to walk by. “Can I get another orange juice and hot coffee? This one’s gone cold.”
“Right away, hun,” the bubbly server said.
“Thanks. Oh, could you leave out the green herb thing from the orange juice this time?”
“Not a problem. Can I get anyone else anything?” she said brightly as she deftly cleared their finished breakfast dishes, expertly stacking them in her hands.
“I’ll have a coffee too, with eight creams, please. Oh, and one of those Christmas strudel things,” Belle said, sliding her cleaned-off plate to the side. Quinn and Meg gawked at her, wide-eyed. “What?” she shrugged, her silky black hair bobbing.
Quinn shook her head with a smile.
“Where were we?” Belle said after the server walked away.
“Nasty puke,” Meg supplied looking pointedly at Quinn.
“Right, fine, whatever, I nasty puked in front of him!” Quinn snapped.
Meg and Belle both looked like they smelled something off, and Quinn rolled her eyes.
“It’s okay, Quinn. He’s a cop. I’m sure he’s seen worse.” Belle reached across the table and patted her hand.
“So then what happened?” Meg asked, and Quinn somewhat reluctantly continued the story. In one way, it felt good to talk it through, but it also made her cringe, recalling all the sordid details. What he must think of her. Not that she should care.
“I can’t believe he actually physically carried you. I didn’t think cops would be allowed to even do that.” Belle leaned back in the leather booth seat.
Quinn shrugged. “I don’t know, but he didn’t carry me in the nice way,” she said as if that were the real issue.
“Yeah, Belle, he didn’t carry her like a bride to their honeymoon suite,” Meg added mockingly.
Quinn groaned, still stinging with the embarrassment of it all. “God, I hope I never see him again.” She laid her head on the table.
“You could still change your mind and come with us back to B.C. for Christmas,” Belle said, not missing a beat.
Meg shot her a disapproving look and turned to Quinn. “You have to see him again!”
Quinn sat back up looking at Meg skeptically. “I’d rather die.”
“What happened when he got you to the room?” Meg and Belle both eagerly awaited her answer.
Quinn hated the memory of it. She’d been so drunk, but his words came back to her. “Nothing happened,” she said.
“Nothing at all?” Belle pushed.
Quinn picked up a fresh napkin from the stash at the side of the table, and she tore at it, ripping off little pieces. “I told him he should leave because I wasn’t going to sleep with him.”
“You said that?” Belle bit out, shocked. The server girl returned with the drinks and Danish.
Once she was out of earshot, Quinn leaned in across the table. “And he told me he didn’t sleep with drunk women and wouldn’t sleep with me even if I begged.”
“Fuck off. He did not say that.” Megan nearly choked on her OJ.
“Told you he’s an ass,” Quinn chirped, crumpling the remainder of napkin in her hand.
Her girls went suspiciously quiet. Quinn looked up at them. “What?”
“Belle and I saw it the other day. There is something between you two. I still think he likes you. There is no way a cop just gives someone a ride out of the goodness of their heart.”
“Oh my God! Did you not just hear what I said? He basically told me I’d be the last woman in the world he’d ever sleep with!”
“Yeah, but only after you said you weren’t going to sleep with him. He had to save face,” Belle argued. “Cops don’t just drive people around out of the goodness of their hearts.”
“He was protecting me from those guys and the freezing weather,” Quinn protested, “Trust me, he doesn’t like me. And I told you I puked in front of him.”
“Yes, yes, the puke is unfortunate, but he could have abandoned you then and he didn’t,” she said slyly like she cracked some secret code.
“Megs.” Quinn straightened in her seat and looked at her friend with her very best ‘I’m deadly serious’ expression. “I do not like him, he does not like me. Never mind that I made an utter ass of myself.”
“Perhaps you need to stop by the station today. Maybe bring in some doughnuts? Cops love doughnuts.” Megan leaned back in her chair and slugged down her orange juice as if she hadn’t heard a word Quinn had just said.
Quinn stared at her like she was nuts. Belle piped up then too, “Perhaps take just a coffee. You already know he likes coffee. You could go to that same cafe we saw him at.”
“Girls! What? No,” Quinn snapped. “Why on earth would I go to the station? Did you not hear anything I just said?”
Meg rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, Quinn.” She laughed an incredulous gleam in her eyes. She reached across the table and grabbed Quinn’s hands to make Quinn look at her. “Listen to me Quinn. Hot Cop drove you back to the inn, caught you twice, didn’t run when you monster puked, and then carried you safely to your room. He likes you.”
“And told me he’d never ever sleep with me.” Quinn pulled away from Megan’s grip slouching back in her seat. “Megs, he’s a cop. That’s what they do—help people. It’s his job,” Quinn huffed. She couldn’t understand why her friends didn’t get it.
Meg shook her head in resignation while Belle inhaled deeply as if to garner patience. “Quinn, cops do not drive people home from the bar. ” Her eyes were intense on Quinn, willing her to understand. “They arrest people, they drive them to the drunk tank, they might even hail them a cab. But they do not drive them home.”
“So why’d he drive me home then?” Quinn challenged.
“Because he’s into you!” Megan joined back into the argument, leaning towards Quinn over the table.
“And you are into him,” Belle added pointing an accusatory slender finger at Quinn.
“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. He’s going away on holiday, so he’s not even going to be at the police station or in Calen at all. Thank God!” she uttered. “I admit that he’s hot—and yes maybe I got a little ahead of myself last night—but I’m going to blame those last two vodka shots! Trust me, though, he is not my type. He’s not nice, and I told him so. And believe me, even though he drove me back to the inn, I’m 99 percent sure it was to give him more time to berate me. He was so rude about me petting his dog and about my clothes, and about not sleeping with me.”
Megan slapped the table. “Quinn Eloise West, you are impossible!”
Quinn shrugged with a cheeky grin. “Meh.”