Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MILES
Today was a good day.
I got an early start, which was nice even if it did include that hiccup at the bakery.
I mean, seriously, what are the chances?
High, it seems.
I think this is just how my life is supposed to be at this point. One giant obstacle after the next. Challenge after challenge.
It pisses me off, but somehow, I always seem to push through.
But there is no way in hell I’m playing matchmaker for the woman I’m trying to avoid.
I’ve agreed to a lot of stupid things with Quinn since this thing started. I have to draw the line somewhere.
Setting my ex, if you want to call her that, up with Quinn’s ex, if we want to call him that, is a hard no.
Pass.
Not happening.
No way.
I lock the shop door and head for my house, ready for a hot shower and to watch some mindless TV as I unwind for the night.
“Finally,” Quinn says the moment she spots me walking past the apartment patio. “I was about five minutes from marching into the shop and demanding you quit working for the night so we can make a plan.”
I keep walking but let my gaze run over her quickly. She’s wearing that white flower pajama set again. Her hair is pulled back, and she’s already removed her makeup for the night. The other times I’ve seen her in this outfit, she has bare feet, but tonight she’s wearing white slip-on sneakers as she quickly follows behind me.
Also different from the other times is the six-pack of beer in one hand and the notebook with a pen in the other.
“If you’re talking about a plan to set Cherry up with Danny, I stand by my answer from earlier.”
I jog up the steps to my house, yanking on the door and holding it open for her. Quinn brushes past me as if she comes here frequently, walking right into the kitchen. She takes two beers from the carton and places the rest in the fridge.
Sure, by all means, just walk around like you own the place.
She locks her gaze on mine and then walks right up to me.
“Drink this.”
I take the bottle and hold it up, examining it closer to the light.
“Did you put something in it?” I ask.
“No, but I’m going for the hope that you’ll be a little more agreeable after a few of these.”
I nod slowly, scratching my nose to hide my smile.
The look she’s giving me is serious, as if what we plan to do here tonight is going to change everything.
Which it could if I agreed to it, but I didn’t, and I’ve never really been the kind of guy who lucks out that easily .
Hence how we even got into this situation that has turned into a domino effect of stupid shit.
I honestly have no other way to explain it.
I twist the top off my beer and move toward the stairs, my stomach growling. “I’m going to take a quick shower, and then I’m going to sit on my couch and relax.”
“Perfect. I’ll go get some snacks.”
She moves with purpose right back out the front door, and I laugh as I walk up to my bathroom.
When she sets her mind to something, she goes all in. The only reason I didn’t tell her to forget about it again is because I'm curious about these snacks.
I skipped dinner.
I’m hungry.
I quickly shower and head back down to the living room in just a pair of sweats. I’ll be honest, I debated putting a shirt on and chose not to. I’m not trying to start anything or show off the body I’ve put a lot of work into, like some cocky dipshit. I’m in my house, and this is how I'd be whether or not Quinn was here. If I have to sit here and argue over whether we should plan matchmaking, whatever you want to call it, for a woman I’m trying to avoid, I’m going to be as comfortable as I can get.
Quinn lets herself back in and marches right back into the kitchen.
“I decided to just make you a late dinner. When I was in Italy last summer, I signed up for this class to learn how to cook different pasta dishes, and it was incredible. I can make a fettuccine alfredo that will make you cry a lot faster than you think. Lucky for you, I was going to cook this tomorrow, so the noodles I made this afternoon while I was waiting for you to get off are ready.”
That sounds delicious.
She sets the bags of ingredients down and then turns .
She pauses, her gaze directed solely on my chest.
I wait for her to make some kind of remark, a quick comeback to get my blood pumping.
“Do you need another beer?”
I chuckle and then cross my arms. “No, I haven’t finished my first one yet, and you need to chill out. I know why you’re here. No need to butter me up with beer and Italian food.”
“Okay. I guess I won’t cook.”
“I didn’t say that,” I retort quickly. “You said pasta, and now I want pasta.”
She rolls her eyes then as she starts talking a mile a minute about different places in town we could go, things we can do, and conversations we can help them engage in.
She is aware that I said I didn’t want to help, right?
It’s all a bit much for me, so it’s time to move this conversation along.
“Why don’t we just introduce them and let them take it from there?” It’s an easy out and common sense.
She drops the wooden spoon into the sauce and spins, her hands on her hips. Clearly, my assumptions are wrong.
“Just introduce them? How will they have a meet-cute?”
“A what?”
“A meet cute.”
“What the fuck is a meet-cute?”
I lean my hips on the counter next to where she’s preparing the noodles. I cross one ankle over the other, sip my beer, and wait for her answer.
“It’s the most important part of how two people meet, that first moment they notice each other. It sets the tone for their entire relationship.”
“What’s ours?”
“We don't have one, Miles, obviously.”
“So, it’s just for people who date? ”
“Well, no.”
“Then we probably have one. What is it?”
She thinks for a moment, then goes back to stirring the sauce. “I suppose in our situation, we could have different ones. Do you remember the first time you saw me or met me?”
“No,” I lie quickly.
I’ve never told a soul the ice cream story, and I don’t plan to change that today.
“Well, the first time I saw you was when Tobias wanted to go to a hockey game in Wind Valley. I was visiting, and he begged Grandma Betty to take us.”
“Really?” I ask and take a sip of the beer she brought.
“Yep. He talked mostly about Hudson and how he was convinced he would go to the pros, but he pointed out you, Luca, a little girl, and your dad.”
There are only a few times I recall the four of us being together at one of Hudson's games, and that was the season after our mom died. It was Hudson’s last year; he’d already lined up a scholarship for college. Dad wanted us to get as much time together as possible.
The crazy part is that it was the same year I first saw Quinn.
I clear my throat. “Is that a meet cute?”
“No.” She laughs. “I guess not, since we didn’t even talk.”
“So, ours is the first time we talked? Wasn’t that … when you were talking to yourself on your phone down by the lodge?”
She adds the noodles and then moves to stand on my other side, mirroring my pose.
“Funny.” She smirks. “I was doing a live show on Instagram, and you ruined it.”
“I did not ruin it.”
“Um, I recall you asking your brother who the weirdo was. Everyone watching heard you.”
I smile. “Whoops. ”
“Anyway, we need to stage something like that for Cherry and Danny, but way better.”
She comes up with more ideas as we eat. I nod, but I'm not really paying attention. I’m too busy trying to figure out how I’m going to get her to cook for me for the rest of the summer.
Maybe there could be some perks to having a fake girlfriend.
When we finish eating, I grab a couple more beers and move us into the living room to relax, but she’s still talking.
“Jesus, Quinn. How do you have so much energy? Take a breath.”
I sit on my couch, lean back, and watch her pace in front of me.
She needs to relax. Find something else to think about. Like me, for example. I could be annoyed that she’s still talking about this, but instead, I’m focusing on her smooth skin. How those fucking legs of hers are actually in my house. In my living room. Just inches away.
How pissed would she be if I touched her? If I pulled her toward me until she dropped into my lap, one leg resting on each side of me?
I don’t think she’d be pissed at all. If her reaction that first day in my shop had a say, I think she’d like it.
I bet her mind would calm down real quick.
“Oh my gosh, Miles, please pay attention. We need to have a plan.”
“No, we don’t. We can wing it.”
“We are not going to just wing it, but I’m glad to hear you’re finally on board with this. This is going to take a lot of brain power to pull this off, and we need?—”
“Holy smokes, someone is wound tight.”
I smile and shake my head. She’s really worked up about this.
“I am not wound tight,” she snaps .
“I beg to differ. I’ve been listening to you for the last half hour, Quinn.”
“O-kay, it’s official. We both have very different versions of listening, and you could use a refresher course on what that?—”
“I bet I could touch you, slowly slide my hand between your thighs, and the moment I pressed a finger against you, you’d combust. That’s how wound tight you are.”
I freeze with my beer halfway to my mouth.
Where the fuck did that come from? Did I really just say that to her? It’s one thing to let my mind wander, but to let those thoughts just slip from my lips so freely…
I quickly touch the bottle to my mouth and take a long pull, doing my best to pretend like the words that just flowed out of my mouth were as natural as me asking about the weather.
“I would not—you know what? I’m above this. I just wanted to make this easier for us, but clearly, you don’t have any interest in making our lives easier. This summer or the summers after.”
Hell, she has a point.
She stands quickly, clearly ready to leave. So I grab her hand.
“Wait.”
She stops, crossing her arms to look at me.
I drop my hand from hers, letting it fall back to the couch.
On the way, my fingers skim her bare leg.
I bet I could touch you, slowly slide my hand between your thighs, and the moment I pressed a finger against you, you’d combust.
Fuck. How long has it been since I’ve hooked up with someone who wasn’t my hand?
Too fucking long if my brain and mouth have decided to just randomly reveal what we’re thinking without debating the consequences first.
I brace myself for the argument I know is about to happen, but all I’m greeted with is silence .
After I pull myself together enough to look up, I find Quinn watching me. Her tongue sweeps out over her lips, and her gaze flickers from my eyes to my mouth.
No. Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like that.
We spend one night drinking beers and hanging out alone, and suddenly, this new tension shows up.
Hell, it’s not new. We’re just behind closed doors now, so it’s heightened.
Fuck.
Me.
“I … I wouldn’t,” she finally says and steps back.
She wouldn’t what? I can’t remember what we were talking about.
I know the words didn’t come out of my mouth, but she still finds a way to read them on my face.
“Combust,” she says with more confidence now. “I would not combust from just one touch. Especially not from you.”
I can’t help but smirk. I might not have meant to say those words out loud, but going by her flushed cheeks right now and the way her words sound all breathy, I’d say I was right.
“If you say so.”
I try not to reveal my smirk as her eyes narrow the longer she stares at me. I shouldn’t enjoy this. Not one bit. I just told her a mere twelve hours ago that she shouldn’t let people talk to her the way she does and here I am, saying inappropriate words and wishing they were actions instead.
Suddenly, the scowl on her face fades and a grin takes over as she rests her hand on my chest.
“I’ll come up with a plan and just fill you in later,” she says sweetly, letting her hand slide across my bare skin as she heads for the door. “Oh, and my family wants us over for dinner later this week.”
She practically slams the door on the way out .
I touch the spot where her hand just was, my body on fire from one simple touch.
Part of me wishes she hadn’t left, and I don’t know how to feel about that.
New office assistant, check. Stack of applications for the shop position, check. Invoices sent to happy customers, check. Shop life is going smoother than usual; check. Does Quinn officially know she’s controlling my summer—check, check, and check.
Only six more weeks to go.
I can do this.
Everything is going to be fine.