Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
T wo days later Elias tapped softly on the back door of Quinley’s home and fired off the text with his other hand, juggling the container he held next to his body with an elbow.
Open up
He tapped again, well aware of Axel’s gaze on him while he waited for Quinley to respond. He’d called Dawson earlier that day, asking to stop by. He wanted Dawson’s thoughts on his restaurant idea and his guess on the odds of Blackwell Brothers Enterprises supporting it.
While shooting the breeze on the phone, Elias had asked if there had been any issues with his new renter. Dawson had mentioned Sophia talking to Quinley, and that Sophia had said Quinley was sick…
The door opened, and Elias bit back a mutter when he saw her. She had a throw blanket wrapped around her shoulders, wore a tank top and short set and looked like death warmed over.
“Can I come in?”
“You might catch the plague.”
One side of his mouth quirked as he stepped forward, and she automatically backed up to give him room. “I warned you this might happen,” he said, unable to stop the words or his smirk when she glared at him.
She padded away on bare feet, and he followed her slow path into her living room, watching as she plopped down on the couch and then fell sideways like the walk to the door had taken every ounce of her energy.
“Have you eaten today?”
She waved a hand at the coffee table and a half-eaten slice of pizza. No doubt a leftover from move-in day. “That might technically have all the food groups in it, but it’s not going to help you fight off whatever you’ve picked up.”
“Hate, hate, hate,” she mumbled, her words muffled by the pillow beneath her head.
Elias grabbed the edge of a second blanket she must have brought from the bedroom and covered her long legs, taking a good look in the process. “I’ll warm up some soup for you.”
“I don’t have soup.”
“You do now.” He went to the kitchen, eyeing it with more than a little unease when he noted the mess of pizza boxes stacked atop a trash bin and dirty dishes in the sink. “The guys could’ve at least taken the trash out after you fed them the other day.”
“I told them not to worry about it because they’d done so much already.”
They should’ve done it anyway, he groused silently. Elias went about searching through the cabinets and found a surprisingly solid assortment of dishes. He grabbed a bowl and microwaved the soup to warm it up.
“Sit up,” he said a minute or so later as he carried the bowl and a towel toward her.
She groaned as she did, eyeing the soup like a toddler would a vegetable.
“What is that? My nose is stuffy, but it still smells awful.”
“It’ll help you. Now are you going to eat it, or do I need to force-feed you?” He bit back a laugh when she glared at him and then sat forward with an attitude while she opened her mouth like a little bird. “Pathetic.”
A hint of a smile formed on her face as he sat on the edge of the coffee table and lifted the spoon to her lips. Her face was pale but flushed, and her eyes had a glassy sheen to them. He fed her a few bites before setting the bowl aside long enough to press the back of his hand to her forehead and noted the way her hand trembled when she lifted it to wrap around his wrist.
Quinley closed her eyes, leaned into his touch, and Elias frowned. “Do you have any fever reducer?”
“Somewhere. I’m fine, though.”
“You’re not,” he said, letting his fingertips trail over her soft cheek before pulling away. He placed the towel-wrapped bowl on her lap. “Finish every bite while I look for meds.”
“So bossy. If I didn’t feel like I ran into a wall and the wall fell on me,” she murmured, “I’d have a smart come back. A good one.”
“I’m sure you would.” His cabinet search earlier had revealed a first aid kit and a few vitamin bottles above the stove, and he returned there now, finding a travel-size bottle of fever reducer. He went to the fridge and grabbed a water bottle, carrying both with him and pausing to watch as she lifted the bowl to her lips and drank the last of the soup.
That was not something he’d imagined Quinley Anders, spoiled princess, would do.
“That was better than it smelled. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He popped the cap and handed her two of the pills before opening the water bottle for her as well. “Down these, and I’ll help you to bed. You’d be more comfortable there than on the couch.”
“It’s still daylight.”
“Doesn’t matter when you’re sick.”
She grumbled something else about bossy men before swallowing the pills with a grimace and wrinkle of her nose.
“Throat sore?”
She nodded. “My entire body hurts. Stupid wall.”
“It’s not the wall’s fault. You’ve been pushing yourself for months, and that was before balcony diving. I think it’s safe to say the stress has caught up with you. Now come on, up,” he said and bent to help her. When her legs wobbled unsteadily, he scooped her up bridal-style to carry.
“So muscly,” Quinley said. “ Annnd he cooks.”
She curled against him and rested her head on his shoulder, trusting him so thoroughly Elias fought the surge of protectiveness threatening to bring him to his knees. All because of the lure that was Quinley Anders, even sick and feverish and in need of a shower.
He carried her down the short hall, bypassing the open door revealing a nicely equipped home office and moving on to the one she’d made a bedroom. The bed was rumpled, sheet falling off onto the floor. But the nightstands held used tissues and empty lozenge wrappers. “You got some nice furniture.”
“My mom is awesome. Married to a toxic narcissist but awesome.”
He lowered Quinley to the mattress and froze when she glommed onto his arm like an octopus and refused to let loose.
“Don’t leave. Not yet. Don’t go yet,” she whispered with a husky voice.
He fought the tug of emotions bombarding him. Then he sucked in a deep breath and lowered himself so that he spooned her. Her sigh of contentment nearly did him in and made him forget all the reasons she wasn’t for him. Right now, she needed him, and he couldn’t leave if he tried.
Elias slid an arm under her pillowed head and made himself more comfortable despite her fevered body. He’d stay long enough for her to fall asleep. Once she did, then he’d leave and they’d go right back to just being friends and nothing else. Not…this.
“Thank you. For sending Hudson in your truck.”
“You’re welcome.”
“He’s a flirt.”
“I’ll be happy to box his ears and warn him to stay away.”
“Brooks and Dawson already did.”
“Good.”
“I meant it, you know.”
“Meant what?”
“Don’t regret kissing you.”
Elias stilled. His heart thundered against his chest like hooves on a racetrack. If he was honest, he didn’t regret kissing her back, either.
“I’m glad I kissed you,” she murmured in her sleepy, raspy voice. “I’m sorry for dragging you into my mess, but…I’m not sorry for that. I like you, even though you’re a food overlord.”
Her grip squeezed his arm as though she wanted to make sure he didn’t pull away, and he felt her hot breath against his skin. A soft kiss?
He closed his eyes at the feel of it, the feel of her, and tucked her a bit more tightly against him.
“Good kisser, too,” she said with one last breathy whisper before the full stomach and meds kicked in and her breathing evened out as her exhausted and sick body gave into sleep.
He still didn’t move. Couldn’t, given the way his entire body felt weak as he thought of those kisses and her smiles and teasing words, weaker still when he considered how quickly she’d gotten under his skin. Fear rolled over him, through every vein and muscle, overtaking every thought.
They were hardly more than strangers, friends, yes, but strangers—yet if something happened to her, he knew he’d never be the same.
Two weeks later, Quinley stared across the high-top table at Rhys and lifted her glass to her lips. Her ex looked particularly handsome tonight in his body-molding tuxedo.
“It’s good to see you, Quinley. How’s the new business coming along?”
“Slow but steadily increasing. So far so good,” she admitted. “The majority of my clients at my dad’s firm were female, and most have decided to make the switch rather than work with him or the rest of his boys’ club.”
“Sounds like you’re off to a great start then.”
The charity event had been on their calendar as their first public appearance posthoneymoon, and when she’d spied the alert, she’d groaned from dread, unsure of whether or not to attend. Then Rhys had texted and asked if she was still planning on going, and she’d refused to allow herself to hide away a moment longer.
And while she’d been tempted to ask Elias to join her as her plus-one, she hadn’t. Because ever since that day he’d shown up at her house with soup, he hadn’t responded to her. She’d sent a thank-you text, then a meme about the soup guy from Seinfeld, then worked up the nerve to actually call, hoping to tell him how much she appreciated all he’d done and to make sure he hadn’t contracted her bug.
When she’d gotten up the next morning after his visit? Elias was gone but so had been the mess. The used tissues, the pizza boxes. All of it. He’d cleaned before he’d left so she wouldn’t have to. But he hadn’t taken her call, and he hadn’t returned her voicemail.
Nothing. She’d gotten nothing in response—which was a response, she mused darkly. One that stated his feelings quite clearly. Still, she wanted to do something to help Elias with his dream, if only to thank him for all he’d done for her from being her getaway guy to the cabin to…soup.
“I have some good news for you,” Rhys said, drawing her back to the moment.
“I like good news.”
He leaned his forearms against the draped table, the light from the tiny encased candle flickering across his handsome face.
“I’m pulling your security detail. After tonight,” he added. “The last threat has been traced and investigated, and the person seems harmless. A keyboard warrior who got mouthy. And Axel tells me things at your house have quieted down as well.”
“It has. I’ll forever be thankful to Oliver Beck announcing Marsali’s pregnancy,” she said, referring to the Hollywood actor who’d settled in Carolina Cove after marrying his best friend’s younger sister, best-selling author and professional matchmaker, Marsali Jones-Beck. The announcement had shifted the attention to them as some of the area’s unofficial royalty.
Rhys smiled and nodded. “It did take the pressure off.”
“Although I suppose we might be stirring the pot,” she murmured, indicating the looks they were receiving with a lift of her eyebrow.
The charity was a great networking opportunity and one she couldn’t pass up. She’d arrived alone—which would be noted—and would leave alone, also undoubtedly noted. Reinforcing the fact that she and Elias Blackwell were just friends. But talking to Rhys like this? Questionable. “But since you’re here, may I ask you something?”
“You know you can.”
Axel stood in a dark corner of the hotel ballroom, ever on guard and with his head on a swivel. “It’s awkward.”
“Ask the question, Quinley. The longer I stand here, the more we give them to gossip about.”
Wasn’t that the truth. She felt every eye in the ballroom on them, including her father’s. She’d spoken with her mother in the ladies’ room earlier, given her a hug, thanked her again for the furniture, and listened as her mother defended her father and made excuses for him and his behavior like the trauma-bonded woman she was. It broke Quinley’s heart. But until her mother came to her senses, there was little she could do. And if her mother never came to her senses, well, there was nothing she could do. She just had to accept her and love her as the broken woman she was. “It’s… really awkward.”
His gaze narrowed, but he didn’t speak, so she just decided to blurt it out and be done with it. “I want you give Cole and Gage the exclusive limo service contract for the Lachlan hotels in the area. You know they deserve it and will do everything in their power to provide the best service possible. It was pure chance that I jumped into their limo that day, and you can’t hold that against them. You’ve put off making the decision about the contract for weeks, and…it’s time.”
Rhys held her gaze, searching her face but for what she wasn’t sure.
“Dance with me,” he said abruptly, extending his hand.
“That’ll only make them gossip more.”
“Who cares at this point?”
Quinley stared up at him and shrugged before draining her glass. “Fine,” she said once she’d swallowed the chardonnay. “But no taking back removing the security detail. That’s a done deal.”
He chuckled at her tone and drew her to his side as he led her to the dance floor. Once they swayed to the music he said, “I awarded Cole and Gage the contract today. My PA let them know, and they should get the paperwork early next week.”
She blinked up at him. “You let me go on and on about it when you could’ve just said that?”
“I like watching you defend the people you care about. What I’m wondering is why you felt it was so awkward.”
Yeah, that. She grimaced. “Actually it’s…not the only thing I wanted to ask you about.”
Something flickered in Rhys’s gaze, and Quinley prepared herself for a hard shutdown. “I’m looking for potential investors.”
He lifted an eyebrow high. “In your business?”
“No, not mine. It’s…a restaurant. I potentially have one high-profile investor lined up, but I’m looking for more since the idea is a bit unusual and will be costly. And no, I’m not asking you . I’m asking if someone just came to mind that might be interested? It’s a great concept and has fantastic potential and appeal.”
“If it’s such a great idea, why aren’t you asking me?”
She wrinkled her nose a bit. “That’s the awkward part.”
Rhys inhaled a tight breath but then relaxed once more, though the effort seemed forced. “Because it’s for him.”
Her hand squeezed over his. “Elias helped me when I needed help. I’d like to repay the favor.”
“Is that all it is? A favor?”
She glanced down, away, unable to put into words how she felt about a man who obviously didn’t feel the same way toward her. And given that she was in Rhys’s arms thinking that thought? Irony sucked .
She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t continuously hoped to hear from Elias in the time since he’d come to her with soup, but she hadn’t and it hurt. And, maybe that was some sort of payback for the pain she’d inflicted on other people in her life. “Elias and I aren’t together, Rhys.”
“I know.”
He…knew? “You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”
His grip at her waist flexed as he guided her with expertise. “Nothing intrusive. Just continuing to monitor things to make sure no one bothers you. I can’t help that I notice he hasn’t been in contact. I know he’s only been there once and that the two of you don’t seem to be communicating.”
She knew exactly what that statement meant. Billionaires were on a whole other level when it came to such things, so it seemed. “My private life is private . That’s one of the things I really thought you understood by now, all things considered.”
She wasn’t sure if her upset came from the fact Rhys had obviously intruded into her personal space more than a little, or if she was upset that Rhys was aware of Elias’s disinterest in her. That felt petty of her, but her pride was bruised more than she cared to admit by Elias’s complete ghosting of her.
He’d come to her house. Brought soup of all things. Taken care of her, put her to bed. One would think that meant he cared, right?
Obviously not.
She and Elias hadn’t been a couple, had barely been more than friends—so why did his lack of interest hurt so much?
“As your former fiancé and a friend, may I ask why aren’t you with him?”
A sound left her, not quite a laugh. “And things just got a lot more awkward.”
“I’m serious, Quinley. The breakup caused me to reflect on our relationship, and…as hard as this is to admit, I think you were right to end things.”
She blinked up at him, unable to give voice to her surprise.
“You weren’t the only one having doubts.”
Shock and relief blasted her from every direction. “I wasn’t?”
“I’ve never felt more for a woman than I did—do—for you. But when I thought of our future, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sense something…wrong. Missing.”
She nodded, speechless and wistful yet glad he was able to see it, too.
“Maybe,” he continued softly, “that’s why I sense you feel more toward Elias Blackwell than friendship. Give me credit for knowing you well enough to know that, at least. So what’s really going on between you?”
She picked at the edge of his perfect lapel, trying to find words to describe the very thing she wasn’t sure she understood. “I don’t know. I suppose… Timing is everything, isn’t it?” She tilted her head back and forced a bright smile up at him. “Runaway bride, bodyguards, handsome ex-fiancé and media drama, stalkers and death threats? I’m a lot to handle, in case you didn’t already know.”
Rhys chuckled as he turned her during their dance, dipping her a bit and then back upright again. “But worth the effort,” he said into her ear. “Tell me about this restaurant idea.”
She shook her head. “He’d never go for it. Not with you.”
“You mean I’ve done something to get on his bad side?”
Her laughter rang out before she could squelch it, drawing even more attention to them, but she couldn’t help it. She ducked her head and loved that after everything they’d gone through, they’d somehow made it back to this. To laughter and a dance and gentle, kind glances.
Rhys seemed like a regular guy right now. But looks were deceiving, and once he walked out those doors, he’d go back to his insanely preoccupied and very public life, the bachelor going-to-be-a billionaire who deserved to find love.
“I’ll think about your question. See who comes to mind.”
Relief rolled through her, and she gripped him a little harder. “Thank you. I mean it.”
“You’re welcome, Quinley.” Rhys stopped dancing the moment the music ended and then brought her hand to his lips for a kiss. “Give him time. Let things die down. I suspect he won’t be able to resist you for long.”