Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Aven
Standing outside the lobby elevators, I wait for Quinn to come down from her tower. The other hens clucked through here about ten minutes ago. If Quinn doesn’t appear soon, she can forget seeing the show. Jim waits for no one.
The numbers above the elevator stop at the top floor. That has to be Quinn. I hold my breath and count down as the numbers tick closer to the lobby level.
Five . . .
I’ll need to talk to her about that kiss. There’s no avoiding it now.
Four . . .
Apologize first. Come right out with it so that nothing has to be awkward.
Three . . .
Fuck me, why are my palms so sweaty?
Two . . .
Okay, she’s almost here. I’ll give her a quick apology and tell her it won’t happen again.
One . . .
Unless she wants it to. But surely not, right?
The elevator lands with a gentle ding, and the doors glide open. All thought leaves my head as she steps out of the elevator and smiles up at me, dripping in that gorgeous hunter-green velvet.
“You’re stunning,” I say as I offer my hand.
“Aren’t you glad you gave me that extra twenty minutes?”
“Ach, you didn’t need it.” I give her the spin I denied her when she wore the purple dress, and her grin widens. “It’s a lovely color on you.”
“I hear it’s your favorite.” She gives me a cheeky smirk and pulls me toward the others near the lobby doors.
“I never told you that.”
“Oh, look. There are the girls.” She releases my hand and flutters toward the group before I can press her further.
As we approach, I’m pleased to see Jim got the word out in time.
All the men—aside from him and King—are dressed in black long-sleeved dress shirts and pants.
It was the only way I could make Quinn’s meeting with Green Guy possible.
There won’t be time to rush back to the resort to change into the green suit, so I needed to make sure I could at least blend in with everyone else.
The long sleeves cover the tattoos, the gloves in my pocket will cover my hands, and Jim has assured me a mask will be waiting for me at the circus tent.
But instead of heading toward the circus tent, Jim explains there’s been a change in plans and we’ll be having dinner first. Quinn’s gaze leaps to mine.
“Not to worry,” King says when he spots the nervous look in her eyes. “You and Aven will join Chef in the kitchen, and you’ll monitor the preparation yourselves.” He places a firm hand on her shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “We won’t risk your health.”
That seems to settle the girl, though it doesn’t settle me.
This just puts more time between now and when I get to ravage her.
I was more than eager to play Green Guy and slip into the role she prefers.
Now I have to spend even more torturous time looking at her in this dress when all I want to do is rip it off her.
We follow the group into the park. The sun dangles on the edge of the horizon, dancing on twilight. A full moon already hangs nearby in preparation for the night to come. Thoughts of Quinn’s skin painted by that haunting glow have my blood racing already.
The night I snuck the phone into her room, I secretly stole a trophy for myself—the smutty book on her nightstand.
I flipped through it a bit, and I was intrigued by one particular scene where a masked man chases his love interest through a forest before fucking her into the dirt.
Quinn really seems to like these stories, and I think I might like them a little myself.
They’ve certainly given me some ideas, and the moonlight only fuels my fire.
Jim and King lead us to Jeff’s Grand Dining Hall, which is named after Jim’s absentee son.
The restaurant is themed after a grand castle dining room, with large wooden tables placed end to end.
Wrought-iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, providing moody lighting.
As everyone else takes their seats around the tables, Quinn and I head for the kitchen.
This is nothing like the ship’s pristine silver galley. Black metal and dark woods prevail here. Even the workers don black attire, so it’s no shock when Chef Maurice starts screaming at me.
“Where is my lamb? I can’t be expected to make a meal when my protein is nowhere to be found!” He pulls off his black chef’s hat and throws it on the floor. “I can’t work under these fucking conditions!”
“Hold your tits, pal,” I say. “We’re just here to make something for the lass to eat.”
He blinks and realizes I’m not one of his do-boys. “My apologies. The pantry is that way.” He points toward a large metal door. “Please don’t fuck my poultry. Or fruit.”
Quinn looks up at me, but I just pat the small of her back and urge her forward.
“Long story,” I whisper. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”
We enter the pantry, and Quinn starts picking through the ingredients. When she’s done, she takes them back to the kitchen and sets them in front of Chef Maurice.
“I’d like a chicken curry,” she says, “but no turmeric. I’m allergic.”
Chef Maurice closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and blows it out through his nose, causing his thick mustache to wiggle. “As I told Jim, you must prepare your own dish. I don’t have time.”
“But I don’t know how to cook,” Quinn says.
“Then I suggest you learn. It’s a very useful skill.” With that, Chef gives us his back and returns to his hunt for the missing lamb.
I pick through the ingredients she’s dropped onto the table. She’s gotten some of the shit right, but I’ve never prepared a curry that uses sushi rice. I leave behind what she needs and take the rest back to the pantry. As I’m going through the other ingredients, she realizes what I’m doing.
“You . . . know how to cook?”
I nod. “Aye, lass. My mother worked at a pub as the head chef for most of her life. Until her death, actually.”
“I’m sorry to hear she passed.”
“Do you want more or less heat?” I raise some pepper options.
Quinn offers a small smile. “You don’t want to talk about that, huh?”
“What? Heat levels? After the kiss, I figured you made it clear that you wanted heat levels to stay pretty low, but I figured I’d ask.”
I give her a smirk and hope she’ll choose the topic of her dinner over the depressing subject that is my mother’s death. It’s a shameful secret I keep tucked tight. After all, her death was my fault.
“You aren’t getting out of this that—wait, what? What are you talking about?” She grabs my arm and spins me to face her. “What did I make clear, exactly?”
“After the kiss,” I say, trying to help her remember. “Your exact words were, ‘Shit, what are we doing?’ Not exactly what a bloke hopes to hear after he kisses the lass he fancies.”
Her jaw drops, and she starts to laugh.
“Ach, no need to pour salt into my wounds. I can’t help admiring you still, but I’m keeping my lips to myself.
” I turn back to the shelf and lower the basmati rice to the tune of more of her laughter.
“If you’re just going to make fun of me, you can make the curry yourself. I’ll show you where the turmeric is.”
She shakes her head and grips my hands as she quiets.
“No, you don’t understand. When I said that, I meant we shouldn’t have been kissing instead of making sure I was safe.
” Her hand rises to my face, and she runs her thumb along my cheek as her jovial smile shifts to something much softer. “Aven . . . I loved kissing you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, you big idiot. Really.” She rises onto her tiptoes and places a gentle kiss on my lips. “Really, really,” she whispers.
“Then why’d you run off afterward? I didn’t even have a chance to talk to you because you locked yourself away.”
Her hands smooth the dress shirt over my chest. “The kiss was incredible, but . . . it complicates things for me. I just needed time to think.”
“And did that time clear anything up for you?”
She blows out a breath and averts her gaze with a shake of her head. She looks like the weight of the universe presses her feet to the earth. I’d give anything to lift that weight and help the girl fly. Maybe as Green Guy, I can give her some peace.
I place my finger beneath her chin and lift her face to mine. “Hey . . . none of that, now. Tonight should be about having a good time. Now that we’ve cleared the air, nothing but smiles. No stress, yeah?”
She finally smiles again. “Yeah.”
We gather a few more ingredients, then head back to the kitchen. It’s empty when we return. I guess Chef found his lamb.
I set to work on Quinn’s dish, but I take time to teach her how to do a few things, like how to cook the rice without turning it into risotto. By the time we’ve finished, I’ve made enough curry for four plates.
“Guess I’m not too good about estimating portion sizes,” I say as we survey the large quantity of food. “I usually just cook a mess of something and eat on it until it tastes off. A bachelor’s life and all that.”
Quinn shrugs and dips her finger into the sauce, giving it a taste. “It’s incredibly good. Maybe someone else will want some too. It smells amazing.”
I know something that smells a touch better, and it’s right in front of me. I lean a little closer to get a hit of that sweet vanilla scent.
“Are you . . . smelling me?” she asks.
With a scoff, I lean back. “No. That would be weird.”
“Yes, you were.” She spins to face me. “You were just smelling my hair, and don’t try to deny it.”
“Ach, maybe a little sniff. I like the way your shampoo smells.”
Quinn bats her eyelashes and smiles up at me, easing my embarrassment. “It’s my body spray, actually, and thanks. I put it everywhere.”
“Is that so?” I step a little closer, sensing the teasing tone in her soft voice. My hands go to her hips, and I ease her into me. “Maybe you can let me follow my nose, huh?”
“Okay, Toucan Sam,” she says with a giggle.