9. Graham
CHAPTER NINE
graham
She helps me recall
About times I felt worthy
With a simple smile
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve pictured what Quinn would look like first thing in the morning.
The real thing exceeds all expectations.
Flushed cheeks that look soft and pink like the petals of a rose. Caramel eyes shining bright in the early morning sun. Hair tousled perfectly, as if someone had been running their hands through it all night.
God , I wish it had been my hands.
A very deprived, filthy part of my mind had imagined what her soft curves and full breasts looked like too. Though , I hadn’t expected to be flashed by her in the middle of the bakery.
My nerves and heart rate are still sky-high, even now that I know she’s not hurt. Well , apart from the small cut on her forehead.
We were due to meet at seven thirty, where I would talk her through my plan to look over her books and she would put me out of my misery and tell me that it was absurd for me to ask her to be my fake girlfriend. A simple Monday morning transaction.
I’d expected her to be here early, she told me she would be.
When my watch read 7:45, something felt off. Johanna and Patrick spotted me waiting outside and even Jo started to get a little antsy, stating this is very unlike Quinn . She called her cell but was met with her voicemail each time.
The moment I saw a pair of feet sticking out behind the counter through the window, I told Patrick to call Dex , who I knew would have no issue fixing the wooden door frame after I barreled through it. Dex is Patrick’s best friend, who he’s known since kindergarten. The guy has at least three inches on my six-foot-three frame, is covered head to toe in tattoos, and a very talented carpenter/joiner by trade.
I was lucky I didn’t shatter the pane of glass when I shouldered my way into the bakery. When I was over the threshold, and a muffled ow echoed through the quiet space, my anxiety eased off, but I was still worked up from thinking the worst.
My eyes are still safely trained on the ceiling when I hear Quinn giggle. “ Oops . Nipple safely away. You can look now, you big prude.”
This woman. I’ve never met anyone who accepts everything in stride the way she does. Though , I don’t meet a lot of women who would flash a boob and be so nonchalant about it either.
With a deep breath, I let my eyes wander back to where she’s kneeling on the floor at my feet, legs twisted in a purple, knitted blanket. “ I’m not a prude,” I mutter, sounding exactly like a prude. “ I —your”— I gesture toward her chest—“ I didn’t mean to look.” I didn’t want to look away , is what I’m really thinking.
“ I’m just teasing. You’re a gentleman, I respect that.” She wouldn’t think I was a gentleman if she knew what I was imagining.
Her sitting at my feet, just like this, only with flushed cheeks and hair mussed for a completely different reason. Brown eyes looking up at me as she grips my thighs, taking me deeper with each shallow thrust of my hips.
Fuck , this is not good. I can’t be thinking these things ever, let alone when I’m around her.
Needing to hide the stiffness pressing against my zipper, I crouch down in front of her, glancing over my shoulder to see Jo pulling down the chairs from the tables and Patrick walking around outside on the phone.
When I turn back, Quinn smiles up at me sweetly, and it does nothing to kill off my boner.
“ I have two questions. One : Why are you sleeping here? Two : What happened?” I brush away her bangs to inspect her head. Luckily the cut isn’t deep enough to need stitches or urgent care.
“ To answer your first question, it’s a long story. And for the second, I whacked it on the edge of the table. It’s not that bad is it?” She flinches when she presses a finger to the injury. “ Ouch .”
That tiny noise of pain rattles me. “ Do you have a first aid kit?”
“ Under the sink, but I can do it. You must have somewhere to be?”
“ I’m right where I need to be. We had a meeting. Remember ?” I snatch her wrist before her hand can slap against her forehead. “ Not the best idea. Now stay put and be good.”
She smirks at my words and when I play them back in my head, I hear exactly how they sound.
Finding the small kit under the sink, I return to where she’s waiting patiently for me and sit back on my haunches, our faces level again. Unlatching the plastic box, I find what I need: alcohol wipes, pain reliever, and Band - Aids . Most of them are bright blue, as you’d expect to find in an area used for food preparation, but when I spot a few with unicorns and stars on them, I decide she’ll like one of those best.
“ Can I ?” I ask, holding up the wipe as I tear it open.
“ Go ahead, Dr . Sadler .”
As I shuffle forward, I push back her hair, careful not to brush against the tender spot. The smell of sugar and vanilla immediately fills my nose. From this close, I could get a sugar rush.
“ I’m sorry if this stings.”
I gently swipe the alcohol-soaked cotton over her head but jerk my hand away when she hisses loudly. “ Joking , joking.” She giggles, her hand wrapping around my wrist as the soft chime of her laughter tinkles around us. That addictive sound, paired with the sweet smell of her, is going to drive me insane.
Scratch that, I’m too far gone.
“ You’re trouble.” I try to keep my eyes on the task at hand, not allowing them to drop to her bee-stung lips or look to where I feel her gaze burning into the side of my jaw. “ Seriously though, Quinn , why were you sleeping here?”
She visibly shivers and I pause my movements, worried I’ve hurt her. “ Rats . Lots and lots of rats.”
“ Rats in your apartment? House ?” I realize I don’t even know where she lives.
“ My van.”
“ Your van?” My brows lift in surprise.
“ Yeah , I live in a van. She’s called Nelly . It’s been renovated and is fully livable. Don’t go cracking any hippy jokes,” she warns with a stern look that does nothing to intimidate me. “ It’s cozy and has been my trusty steed for years. Anyway , raccoons have been visiting me a lot recently and I heard them scurrying around in the engine last night. Only it wasn’t raccoons, Graham . They were rats. So many rats. I swear one of them went for my throat. It was too late to wake up Mr . Willis and… I dropped my phone in their nest. So , I slept here.”
“ That’s quite the ordeal. I think I know a guy who can help you out, let me call him.”
“ No ,” she protests. “ You don’t need to do that. I’m going to call a mechanic this morning. Now , finish patching me up, please, Doctor , I have a meeting to get to.”
Feeling brave, I go along with the gag as I clean her wound, but immediately regret it. “ Would you like a lollipop?”
Why is everything I say sounding like an innuendo today?
She snickers. “ Oh my god, was that a joke?”
“ Hmm .” I blow across her forehead, making sure it’s dry before I place the Band - Aid and hoping to all that is holy she doesn’t notice my bright red face.
“ How do I look?” She turns her head from left to right, showcasing the brightly colored bandage.
“ Pretty as always.” The words are out in the world before I can suck them back in. I try my best not to react to my slipup, but the heat clawing up my neck lets me know it’s useless.
Quinn simply chuckles, pats me lightly on the cheek, and stands. She lowers her hand and helps me to my feet, though I do most of the work.
“ Gimme ten minutes to freshen up. Would you mind switching on the coffee machine for me, please?”she asks as she steps toward the small restroom.
Nodding , I do as asked, quietly collecting my thoughts and preparing for all the possible things she could say to me. The more prep, the less stuttering.
“ That was interesting.”
I spin around at the unexpected voice and discover Johanna perched on a chair, legs crossed at the ankles, looking like some evil villain with the way the corner of her mouth is quirked up. I’d almost forgotten we had company and now I’m reminded that Quinn asked if she could speak to Jo about my fake dating proposal. From the curious look aimed in my direction, they’ve talked.
“ Me helping someone out? I’m not that much of a dick, am I ?” I ask, attempting to divert the conversation.
Her shoulders slump and she cocks her head. “ You’re far from that, Gray . It’s good that Quinn has another friend to watch her back and you seem comfortable around her.”
I try not to cringe at the nickname everyone uses for me, but most of all, I don’t want Quinn to start using it.
“ I’m also far from being friends with her,” I murmur, scratching the back of my neck and eyes darting to the back of the kitchen, hoping Quinn makes an appearance soon. “ Don’t you have a restaurant to run?”
“ Patrick left to open up, I’ll head over soon. Dex will be over shortly to fix the door.” She stands and walks over to me, a small smile on her lips. “ Give yourself more credit. She talks very highly of you, but be warned, she’s told me her plans to get you to eat something sugary. From experience, she’s a really great person to have on your team.” She rushes her next words out when we hear noise from the back. “ That girl is as stubborn as a mule, so don’t let her turn down your help. I think this arrangement is going to be good for you both.”
I pause. “ She hasn’t agreed to it yet.”
“ She was never going to say no.” She throws me a wink. “ Anyway , customers to serve. Catch you later. Tell Quinn I said bye.”
The sounds of footfalls come from behind me the moment Jo disappears through the door. Quinn is now in dark green overalls, an orange-and-white striped T -shirt, and a worn pair of Chucks . Her hair is tied back into two small buns at the back of her head. She beams up at me, because even after I damaged her front door and caused her to hurt herself, she still finds me worthy of that mesmerizing smile .
She pulls out a bottle of water and orange juice from the fridge, and like a lost little puppy, I follow her to the table in the middle of the room. This is the third time we’ve found ourselves at this table together.
“ This is kinda like our table, isn’t it?” she asks, as if she can read my mind.
It’s insane how much I love the idea of this being our table. Another reason why asking her to be my fake girlfriend is the worst idea in the fucking world.
“ I guess it is.” Presenting the report I put together over the weekend from my satchel, I place it on the table between us and slide it toward her. “ So , um, thanks for sending over all those documents. There were a few things missing, but we can work on that. For now, I was able to draft a financial performance report for the bakery. It could do with some work, but that’s why I’m here—to help. I’ve made some initial suggestions; adjusting some price points on goods you sell, how you can better calculate inventory turnaround, and even some advice if you ever, I don’t know, wanted to wholesale your goods or services…”
I let my words hang between us. Not wanting to push her but letting her know the option to work with the restaurant is still open. I’m candid, professional, and know what I’m talking about. If I were to be brutally honest, her books are a mess.
It’s why I have a job.
“ You said a lot of words and they went”—she slashes her hand over the top of her head and whistles—“right over my head. This is great, you clearly know your stuff. I really appreciate you putting in all this effort. The thing is…”
She flicks through the pages of the report, eyes downcast so I can’t see her expression, but her voice has lost that bubbly ring to it. She sounds tired and defeated, like something’s crushed her spirit. And I do not like this one bit.
She’s had one hell of a night. With most people, I’d keep my opinions to myself, not wanting to stick my nose in their business, but I have this urge to do the complete opposite with her. To find out what’s wrong, eradicate anyone or anything that upsets her, and protect her from the world.
That’s why I don’t hold back now. “ Hey , what’s up? You disappeared on me there.”
A small sniffle breaks the silence, and when her eyes meet mine, they’re filled with tears. I’ve never been a violent man, but suddenly the idea of rampaging through the streets of Sutton Bay in Quinn’s honor sounds very appealing.
“ I can’t accept your help. It’s just not going to work out. I don’t even know why I’m crying, this is so stupid.” Her voice wavers and she swipes at her eyes, before trying to hide her sadness behind a watery smile.
I scoot my chair closer and rest my hand on top of hers, dipping my head to meet her sad gaze.
“ Nothing about your feelings is stupid. If …if you want the name of one of my colleagues, I can give you their number. I understand if it’s weird working with me now.”
“ No , it’s not you. I want to work with you. It’s just I can’t afford it—” Her voice breaks, and before her head collapses into her hands, I’m tugging her into me and muffling her gut-wrenching sobs with my chest.
“ We don’t need to talk about money now. I want to help, Quinn …as a friend.” I test the word and it doesn’t sound so bad. Being her friend is probably the most I’ll ever get, so I better start accepting it.
“ I can’t let you do that,” she whines into my cardigan.
I take hold of her shoulders, putting some space between us. “ Why not?”
“ Because I need another favor instead. A favor for a favor.” She looks guilty at that confession, chewing on her lip, and I desperately want to pull it free from her teeth before she draws blood .
“ I hate asking this, and I’ve tried to come up with so many other solutions. I’m not agreeing to this simply because I need your help, because I was always going to say yes…you know, being your faux lover.”
My heart stops and I try to swallow the large lump in my throat. Holy shit, she’s going to do it.
“ Anything , I’ll do anything.” Despite my desperate tone, my expression remains calm. “ I’ll help the bakery and then some. You name it, it’s yours.”
Her mouth twists to the side. “ You might regret this.”
“ Never . If you’re even debating helping me out in such a ridiculous way, nothing you ask will be too big.”
“ Great . You won’t mind if we become roommates then?”
I still.
Did I hear her correctly?
Before I can ask her to repeat herself, my mind is running away from me.
Simply imagining Quinn in my space has me charged up. It’s bad enough I’m torturing myself by asking her to date me, let alone seeing her day and night. Would she walk around in the skimpy camisoles I found her in earlier? Would her sugary scent stay long after she leaves?
Is she going to take one look at my sad apartment and go running for the hills?
But what if she doesn’t , a quiet voice says.
What if she likes what she sees and shares the same feelings?
What if she sees me for who I am and likes it?