Chapter 23 – QUINN
QUINN
“Hey, you must be Dr. Quinn Reyes. Thanks for filling in for our guy.” A man walks across the field toward me with his hand outstretched. I shake it reflexively. “I’m Dr. Rex Grun, the medical director for Cincinnati.”
Rhett, Russel, now Rex. I think I’m about done with R names.
“Nice to meet you.”
“What are you doing tonight?”
I arch a brow, and he laughs, throwing a hand up.
His left hand with a wedding band on it.
“Sorry. That came out wrong. We usually grab a drink or dinner with the opposing team’s medical staff after the teams’ walk-through, since most of you don’t have much to do tonight, and the players have a curfew. Beats staying in at the hotel.”
“Oh. Sure. That sounds fun.”
“Great. We’ll catch you after.” He waves and jogs back into the building. The team isn’t doing much right now other than walking the field, stretching a bit, and running very basic drills. They have a team meeting in an hour, dinner, and then curfew, so yeah, pretty boring night.
Just as I get back to the hotel to change to go out, Russel sends me a text and I sigh.
I didn’t see much of Rhett on the plane ride over earlier this afternoon and I did my best to ignore his commanding presence and the occasional feel of his eyes on me today on the field.
But it’s like crawling through quicksand.
Any progress I make is futile and I’m still sinking no matter how hard I struggle.
Russel: Want to grab dinner with me?
Me: I’m having dinner with the medical staff.
Russel: What about after dinner? You could come to my room.
Me: No thanks.
Russel: Soon enough, babe. Soon enough, I’ll have you back where you belong.
I don’t bother replying. There’s no point. Instead, I spend a few hours out having drinks and delicious food at a local steakhouse. We talk about patients and medicine and not sports, and it’s fun. I also get friendlier with the training staff and other doctors who work for the Rebels.
By the time I get back, it’s almost ten, and I believe curfew starts about now.
I text Crew and Mason to let them know I’m back since they went out for an early dinner with a few other players, and head up to my room.
I lean against the elevator wall only to spring back up when it beeps and the doors open. With a yawn, I saunter off and head right toward my room, but before I can reach it, I come to a screeching halt. What the fuck?
Russel is in front of my door, but he’s not alone.
He has a blonde whose face I can’t see pressed against it with his hands on her tits as he pushes up her ample cleavage to feed his mouth.
I stagger back a step, then another, frantically searching around because why would he do that? Why would he bring a woman to my door?
It takes me a second before I realize I got off on the wrong floor. This is six and not seven, and Jesus fuck, his room is right beneath mine, which means I’ll likely hear him fucking this girl. So much for curfew. So much for his serious play for me.
The funny thing is, I’m not even hurt or mad.
Just annoyed, mainly with myself, and totally disgusted with him.
I feel as though I should have known, but I’m not sure how, when he never cheated on me before.
At least not that I know of, though he’s not exactly cheating on me now, is he?
He can fuck whomever he wants, and I’m glad I saw this.
I’m glad I know the truth before I got stupid and caved.
Ugh.
She moans the way porn stars do—all breathy and exaggerated—and slinks her arm between to grab his dick.
“Fuck yeah,” he growls, and bile climbs up the back of my throat. Gross.
What did I ever see in this asshole?
All I know is I don’t want to be in my room until he’s done fucking her, and if she’s already this loud, Lord knows what I’d have to endure.
Not knowing what else to do, I get back on the elevator, grateful neither saw me in the hall, and instead of going one floor up to my room, I go back downstairs.
There’s a bar off the lobby, and that’s where I head, wishing I had a book or something to kill the time.
I’m tired, and I want to go to bed, but the hotel is sold out, and I can’t exactly crash with my brothers.
Great. This could be a long night.
I take a seat at the mostly empty bar. There are a few people lingering about that I don’t recognize, likely guests of the hotel and not part of the team. I’m surprised it’s not more crowded for a Saturday night.
“Good evening,” the bartender greets me. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a glass of pinot noir, please.”
“Sure. Coming up. Anything to eat?”
I shake my head. I’m still full from the big dinner I had.
The glass is placed in front of me, and I take a sip when I hear my name being called. I spin on my chair to find Rhett there, a worried look on his face.
“Hi,” he says, eyeing my wine. “What are you doing here?”
I tilt my head and give him a deadpan expression. “Having a drink.”
“Alone?” He glances about me as if waiting for a guy to materialize.
“Yes.” I snicker. “Your son is fucking some random blonde, and I discovered the hard way that his room is directly beneath mine.”
He pales, his lips dipping into a frown. “Oh.”
I don’t know if they have rules against that sort of thing happening the night before a game, but I don’t exactly care if I just got a player in trouble with their coach.
“What are you doing here? Don’t you have a curfew?”
He licks his lips and steps toward me. “Yes. I was just doing a quick set of rounds to make sure I didn’t have to kick anyone’s ass to bed the night before our first away game.”
“Do coaches normally do that?”
His lips bounce. “No clue.” His gaze shifts about my face. “Are you upset?”
My eyebrows dive. “About what?”
“Russel and the woman.”
“Oh.” I wave him away. “No. I don’t care. Honestly, I’m relieved I didn’t fall into his bullshit.”
“What bullshit?”
“He’s been calling and texting me a lot, trying to get me to go out with him and give him a second chance. That was intermingled between posing us as friends.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “He has?”
I nod. “Yup.” I pop the P sound. “Clearly it wasn’t as sincere as he played.”
He shifts his weight and looks out into the bar, his jaw hard and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t know about that. I’m sure he means it. I wouldn’t let whatever is happening—”
“Please don’t defend him to me. Not you.”
Slowly his head swivels back to me. “Were you considering it? Giving him a second chance.”
“No,” I tell him honestly. “I wasn’t.”
He swallows thickly, tension radiating from him that quickens my pulse. “How long do you think he’ll be with her?”
I shrug. “Anywhere from thirty seconds to hours if he wants seconds and thirds is my guess.”
He coughs out a small laugh. “Jesus, your mouth.” He shakes his head. “Well, I can’t leave you sitting alone in a bar for hours.”
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“I know that, but I still don’t want you sitting here alone. Or worse, having someone sit down beside you.”
“Is that what this is? You’re jealous?”
“I’m always jealous when it comes to you. It’s already late. Bring your drink up to my room. You can hang out there until he’s finished.”
My jaw drops a little.
“I’ll behave,” he adds solemnly. “I’ve been good for the last few weeks, haven’t I? I didn’t even touch you at breakfast.”
“You’re sure?”
“No, but as I said, I don’t want you down here, so either I stay and break my own curfew, or you come up with me.”
I squint. “You’re being high-handed with me.”
He’s unrepentant as he says, “Absolutely. But you’re also part of the team’s staff, and it’s my job to look out for you. Come on.” He pulls out his wallet and tosses some cash on the bar.
I shouldn’t do this, but I’m standing regardless. And it’s not because of Russel. It’s because it’s Rhett.
I take my glass of wine and walk beside him to the elevator, my breathing heavy as I remember the last time we did this exact thing. His hands are shaking. I can see them by his side, and I have no doubt he’s thinking the exact same thing I am.
“I have a suite.”
“Okay.”
He peers over at me as the elevator doors close. “I meant if you thought I was bringing you to my bed, you should know I’m not.”
“Is this your way of saying you’re going to fuck me on your couch this time?”
“Hell, Quinn.” His face falls into his hands, and he breathes out harshly. “You can’t say that stuff. I’m trying to do the right thing.”
Except his son doesn’t care about doing the right thing for anyone but himself so what the hell are we holding back for?
My brothers? My father? His job? Yes, yes, and yes.
He’s also the coach of the team I work for, and I’m a resident.
Not to mention I’m seventeen years younger.
Russel aside, there are still several solid reasons why this is a bad idea.
If anything happened between us and it got out, the repercussions would be catastrophic.
I take a sip of my wine. “You’re right. I’m sorry.
Forget I said anything.” The doors open on the eighth floor.
“How’s this? I hang out in your living room, and you close the doors to your bedroom and go to sleep.
You have a big day tomorrow, and I can play solitaire or chess on my phone.
I’ll be quiet as a mouse. Besides, I’m sure Russel will be finished with her quickly, and it’s not as though he’ll have her spend the night so I can go back to my room soon. ”
He doesn’t reply as we walk down the hall a few doors until we reach his room. He snicks the card over the black disk, and it unlocks. The last time we did this, I was already half undressed and tussled by his hands. We couldn’t keep away from each other.
I shiver thinking about all the things we did to each other that night.
His room is dark, and he flips on a switch that illuminates a table lamp in the living room. It’s a nice suite, a perk of being the coach, and I set my glass of wine down beside the lamp. The moment he goes into his room, I’m leaving. I have noise-canceling headphones I can wear if I have to.
“Night, Coach.” I keep my back to the bedroom, expecting to hear the door shut, but instead I’m spun around and banged against the wall.
“Goddammit, Quinn,” he bites out in a threatening tone. “You had to be in the fucking bar tonight.”
His mouth crashes to mine, stealing my breath and pressing me so hard against the wall I can’t regain it. He trails hot kisses and sharp nips down my jaw and neck.
“I’m so tired of fighting this with you,” he murmurs hot and rough against my skin. “Fuck it. I’m not stopping this time.”