Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
Quinn
I can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking.
Charli is staring at me, this far-off look in her gorgeous blue eyes.
They’re like waves on the ocean, a beautiful aqua hue that’s both soothing and hypnotic.
But like those waves, they can’t always see what’s brewing within.
What appears to be calm could also produce a hurricane, and if anything can describe Charli Miller, it’s something as unpredictable and destructive as a hurricane.
She lifts an eyebrow. “What are you looking at?”
I can’t help but smile. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
Charli rolls her eyes and grabs her margarita, taking a greedy pull from the straw. “You look like you just fell out of bed. Did you even try to look presentable before coming out tonight?” she asks, just as testy as I’d expect her to be.
“So, you’re thinking about me in bed, huh?” I joke, moving my hand to a defensive position near my balls. When Charli’s near, I always have to be ready. Not that she punches me in the junk often, but she’s more of a react first, ask questions later kind of woman.
Rolling her eyes dramatically, she barks out a loud, “You wish!”
Yes, yes, I do.
But I won’t say that out loud.
She turns her attention to Oaklee, who misses her shot.
Cade makes a big production of telling her how close she was, how great she is, and how much he loves her.
Usually, Camden and I would tease the shit out of him, but I can’t seem to bring myself to do it tonight.
I’m not sure why, but seeing them together, all lovey-dovey, causes a heaviness in my gut.
It shouldn’t. I’m used to seeing it.
Not from my own parents. Them even being in the same room together would be a combination of laughable and explosive. Nothing positive would come from it, that’s for sure.
No, my only experience and knowledge of a solid, stable relationship comes from the Millers.
Camden’s parents, Linda and Tyson, are the epitome of happily married.
No, it’s not always sunshine and roses—I’ve seen them bicker from time to time—but they made a commitment and vowed to weather life’s storms together, and that’s what they’re doing.
Side by side.
I’m sure it’s not easy. No marriage or relationship is perfect, but they’ve shown me if you find someone who makes your life better, then you spend that life enriching theirs too.
I’ve always secretly wanted what the Millers have.
I’ve seen what not to do. I lived it within the walls of my own home.
But I’ve also witnessed how it’s supposed to be when you love and marry someone.
Charli is focused, zeroed in hard on the balls left on the table. I can already tell which shot she’s thinking of taking, just by watching how she’s moving to position herself to the table.
“That’s not your shot,” I state.
She doesn’t acknowledge me at all, just lowers herself to the table and lines up her cue stick.
“You’re leaving yourself without a follow-up shot, Charlotte.”
I knew that would get a response. She hates it when we use her full first name.
Her eyes narrow into little slits and proverbial fire shoots from her ears. She takes three steps toward me and stabs her finger into my chest. “Knock it off.”
“You mean don’t call you Charlotte?” I ask sweetly.
“Yes,” she spits out with venom.
“Okay, Charlotte. My apologies.”
She huffs out a deep sigh, and I can smell the fruit on her breath. “You’re impossible and argumentative,” she states, bending down to shoot her original shot. As soon as she does, the cue ball goes exactly where I expected it to.
Behind the four, leaving her zero shots.
Honestly, Charli is pretty damn good at shooting pool, and if she wasn’t teetering on the side of intoxication, she’d recognize the fact the shot she just made isn’t the one she should have taken.
In fact, I’m certain she’s realizing now I was right, but it would snow in Hell before she said those words to me.
Instead, I’ll goad them out of her.
“I’m not the one arguing,” I say calmly, searching the table for a shot. “Off the rail, thirteen ball in the corner pocket.” I don’t tell her it won’t go in, but it’ll at least get one of the balls out of the clump of them sitting together and hopefully line up another shot.
“I don’t need your help,” she insists, taking a stance at the corner of the table and sending the cue ball into a group of four. “See? I’m perfectly capable of shooting without your assistance.”
I flash her a grin. “Well, then, I’ll just take a seat.”
“Good. Sit down and shut up,” she barks, walking over to get her drink and sucking a hearty pull through the straw.
I walk to where my beer is sitting and take a drink, watching her the entire time.
“You always have to push her buttons,” Camden says with a chuckle.
“She’s just being difficult. I was trying to help.”
“Yeah, but helping is what gets you in trouble.”
Don’t I know it. Charli has always been super confrontational where I’m concerned, not that I’m too worried about it.
Honestly, I like it. Fighting with her is sometimes the best part of my day.
She spars as naturally as she breathes, with her sharp tongue and sassy attitude.
I’d never tell her this, but I actually enjoy someone who instantly goes to battle with me over a person who practically ignores my existence.
“Come on, Oaklee. Let’s go use the restroom,” Charli blurts out, setting her pool stick down and sliding her arm through Oaklee’s.
“Gabby Loberman is here,” Camden mutters under his breath, earning an immediate curse from me.
Before I can even say another word, the woman at the door spots me and smiles. “Quinn, hi!” she hollers, heading this way in a tight little skirt and a whole lotta extra swing in her step. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she adds the moment she reaches my side.
“Yeah?” I ask politely, even though I’d much rather ignore her. But not acknowledging Gabby is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. She looks at it as a challenge and refuses to let up.
“Yes,” she coos, leaning forward and giving me an unobstructed glimpse of the cleavage pouring out of the neckline of her top. “My car is acting funny.”
“Take it to a mechanic,” I reply, sipping my beer.
“But you fix stuff, right?” Her green eyes are bright with anticipation and eagerness, as if this will be the time I actually accept her advances.
“I weld broken things, but that doesn’t mean I know how to fix cars,” I tell her, despite being fairly handy when it comes to vehicle maintenance.
That’s one thing I learned early on from Mr. Miller.
Camden was eager to learn everything he could, and since I was usually at his side, that meant I was there, soaking up his knowledge too.
“If you need your car fixed, talk to Camden.”
She glances at my friend but quickly turns her attention back to me. “Can’t you take a look?” Her eyes burn with promise and seduction as she nibbles on her bottom lip, placing her hand on my thigh and sliding it upward.
“Sorry, I’m not your guy,” I state for what feels like the thousandth time with this woman.
I’ve met a couple who don’t take no for an answer over the years, but Gabby Loberman is by far the most persistent.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to feel wanted, but that’s not what this is.
Gabby is the woman Charli’s former boyfriend, Rich, slept with when Charli was out of town with Sommer one weekend, and caused the breakup.
Well, helped cause it, because there were two people who slept together that night, and one of them was in a relationship and knew better.
The good thing about tonight is I know I won’t have to say much to get Gabby to move along.
Camden is biding his time, but I know the moment Cade notices her standing here, he’s going to pounce.
And Charli? Well, let’s just hope Gabby is elsewhere by the time she returns from the restroom, because we’ll probably see more fireworks than the Fourth of July.
“How do you know you’re not my guy?” she asks seductively, her hand inching closer to my dick. Of course, it pays no attention to this particular hand. Not when it’s attached to this woman, the one who helped make Charli’s life hell for a short period of time a couple of years back.
“Oh, look. Gabby’s here.”
I glance at Charli, who’s glaring daggers at the woman in front of me. Gabby, in return, digs her nails into my thigh a little tighter. “Charli, hi.”
Charli rolls her eyes, and the moment they land on my leg, fire practically shoots from her blue orbs. “Move along. You’re killing my buzz,” she insists flatly, walking straight toward me and pushing her way between Gabby and me, essentially dislodging the hand—forcefully—Gabby had on my leg.
Gabby sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re such a bitch.”
Charli just grins and sweetly replies, “Thank you.”
I can’t help but smile. Charli isn’t a bitch, but she wears her sass and attitude proudly.
Gabby returns her attention to me. “I’ll stop by, Quinn, and you can take a look at my car.”
“Just take it to the shop, Gabby. I’m not a mechanic,” I repeat, getting annoyed all over again. She knows this, but is doing everything she can to garner all my attention. There are two reasons she’s doing it. One, she thinks I need to be her next boy toy, and two, she knows Charli hates it.
“Run along, little crotch stain,” Charli demands, sipping the margarita she retrieved from the table when she pushed her way between Gabby and me.
“You’re such a juvenile witch. I can see why he cheated,” Gabby announces, spinning and heading for the front entrance.
Probably a good thing because I’m certain she wouldn’t have been served by either Collin or Lizzie.
Both despise her for what she did with Dick, as I affectionately call him, and have asked her to leave on a number of occasions.
Usually, she frequents The Tall One down the road, so why she decided to come here tonight is beyond me.