CHAPTER SEVEN
RIKER
I check the table one more time. Everything’s there, and if she shows up soon it’ll even still be hot. It’s not fancy, just takeout from Joe’s. But I was starving and figured I might as well get enough for two.
Now that I’m looking at the food sitting there, I’m rethinking the whole thing. Sharing a meal sort of implies a date. And a date would imply an interest in developing other aspects of our relationship. Which I don’t have.
On the other hand, it’s just fucking food and we’ve both been very clear about the fact that neither of us is looking for more.
So why am I overthinking this?
QUINN
The sun’s setting by the time I walk onto his deck with Harley in tow. It’s beautiful out, in spite of the unexpected chill in the air. It didn’t bother me on the run over here, but now that I’ve slowed down again it’s getting cold fast.
My heart sinks when I spot the note taped to his front door. I peel it from the wood only to find it marked with an arrow. No words. Just an arrow pointing straight up.
“What the...?” I take a step back and glance upward. There’s a rooftop deck three stories up that I never noticed before. Now that I have, I’m not any closer to reaching it. I’m tempted to shout his name, but it’s Riker. He wouldn’t leave me standing down here, with a note suggesting I go up with no way of getting there .
I twist my mouth back and forth while I contemplate my next move. There’s a second door just three feet down from Riker’s. I always assumed it went to the main part of the house. Maybe I was wrong.
With limited options, I reach for the handle. It’s unlocked and the door opens, revealing a dimly lit spiral staircase leading straight to the top.
“Well, bud, I think you’re going to have to sit this one out.” I walk back over to Riker’s place and try his door. It gives way instantly, and Harley runs inside and goes right to his blanket. “See you in a bit.” I close the door again and head back to the staircase.
Taking two steps at a time, I hurry upstairs.
Because I’m eager to see the view from up there.
Not because I want to see him.
I do want to see him.
Damn you, lust, you horny bitch .
As I pass the second floor, I notice the door to the main living area is cracked open. Curiosity gets the better of me, and even though I know I shouldn’t, I detour onto the small landing leading up to it. There’s barely any light, but my eyes have adjusted enough to the dark for me to make out some very noticeable basics. For starters, the place is completely trashed. There’s broken frames lying scattered in the foyer, and from what I can tell there’s no furniture. My first instinct is to run upstairs and tell Riker the Shepherdsons have been robbed. Then I realize how ridiculous that is. I mean, he lives right downstairs. He walked by here same as I did. He would have to know.
Which brings me to my second realization. I haven’t seen a single renter since I’ve been coming here. Whoever this James Shepherdson is that’s running the family business, he sure seems to be doing a shit job of it. Or, as Nate so kindly put it, he’s definitely unmotivated .
But then, who am I to judge? The only thing motivating me these days is the prospect of getting naked with Riker. That’s not exactly what I’d deem an admirable ambition in life.
Properly grossed out with myself, I return to the stairs and this time don’t get distracted until I reach the top.
“I was starting to think I didn’t leave you with good enough instructions.” He’s standing near the railing, smirking and wearing entirely too many clothes for my liking. Then I notice the table. And the takeout boxes.
“What’s all this?” I can hear myself. I sound...pleased. Happy, even.
“Just burgers. Fries.” He picks up one of the Styrofoam boxes and hands it to me before taking one for himself. “I didn’t have a chance to eat before, and I knew you’d be coming over, so...” He shrugs. Like it’s no big deal. Except we both know it is.
“You know, you don’t have to be nice to me. I’m going to sleep with you anyway because you’re so nice looking .” I stack my box on top of his to free my hands so I can take ahold of his face and pull him toward me. Usually, I let him do the initiating. I don’t know why. Maybe he just always beats me to it. Today, it’s my turn to kiss him. And I do. Long and fervidly, until every other part of my day disappears and he’s the only thing left.
“I missed you today.” His words rumble quietly into my mouth as he slowly breaks away.
“You saw me this morning.” I want to sound stern. I don’t. But I want to.
“I know.” He grins wickedly, and I know we’re about to go from sweet to dirty. “But then when you were leaving, I saw you stop and bend over to fix your shoelace, and I’ve been thinking about getting you back into that exact position all damn day.”
Simultaneously, our eyes travel toward the railing, and I suddenly have a pretty good idea why we’re up here tonight. “Sex with a view. I like it.”
He chuckles, and my stomach flips back and forth at the deep sound. “But first, we eat.” Still holding both of our boxes, he takes a seat in the chaise lounge, gesturing for me to come and sit with him. Straddling the back end of it to face him, I slide both legs over his knees, leaving just enough room for our food between us.
“Saw you running over from up here,” he says, about to take his first bite.
I’ve already had mine, and I hurry and swallow to answer him. “Oh yeah?”
He nods. “You were talking to yourself. You looked pissed.”
I was. And I wasn’t so much talking to myself as I was making all the arguments I should have made to Kirsten against going on this stupid date tomorrow night. “Just finishing up a chat I had with my sister before I left. Unfortunately, I’m one of those people who always thinks of the perfect thing to say ten minutes after the conversation is already over.”
He’s chewing. And thinking. “What was the conversation about?”
“Oh, you know. The usual. She wants to run my life for me. And that apparently now includes finding me the perfect man.” I squirt the contents of a ketchup packet into the corner of my box. “So, naturally, I have a date tomorrow night.”
I purposely pretend to be extra focused on the french fry I’m swirling around in my ketchup, but I can feel his legs tense up under mine. He’s surprised by the news.
“A date? With whom?” He sounds casual. Like we’re just making small talk.
“Some guy Nate works with. Carson Winn.” I shrug. I haven’t had a chance to google yet, so that’s all I know.
Riker stops mid bite and does a weird thing with his jaw like he wants to say something, but then he changes his mind and just keeps chewing.
“What? You know him?”
He leans over his box to keep from dripping burger grease onto his pants. “Sort of. Went to school with his older brother, Derek.”
Clearly, there’s more. “And?”
“And... I don’t know. Derek was one of those popular kids. You know, like high school was his shining moment in life. Prom king. Football player. Dated all the pretty cheerleaders and still had time to make the honor roll.” He laughs, though he’s obviously not amused. I guess those things wouldn’t mean much to a guy like Riker. “Anyway, Carson seemed to always have a chip on his shoulder. Not that I blame him. Sucks being stuck under someone else’s shadow everywhere you go.”
I drop a fry back into the Styrofoam container. “Damn. And here I was hoping Kirsten was onto something with this find me a man business.” I bite back a smile because it would ruin my faux disappointment.
Riker eyes me skeptically as he wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Why does that make me want to jump out of my own skin and into his? His perfect lips thin out when he presses them together, and I’m tempted to lean in and kiss them just to see them fill out again.
“Since when are you in the market for a man? I thought you were all anti-relationships and feelings and shit.”
I nod. “Oh, I am, but I know Kirsten. Once she locks in on a target, there’s no avoiding that missile. And right now, she’s aiming that shit directly at me and my lacking love life, so, you know, I’m thinking I could make this work for me.” I brush my hands off and put them behind me to lean into them. “Obviously, getting seriously involved with someone is out of the question, but in lieu of one man with expectations and demands I have no desire to meet, maybe I could use several. You know, play a little game of build-a-man using only the parts I want and leaving out all the parts I don’t.”
Riker lies back against the chaise and runs his hands over his face several times. “What now?”
“Well”—I lift my leg and rub it over his thigh—“I mean, I’ve already got a good thing going here with you. But I wouldn’t mind eating something every once in a while that didn’t come out of a to-go box or Kirsten’s kitchen. Maybe finding a guy to provide an occasional grown-up dinner and entertaining conversation wouldn’t be a bad thing. And after that, I’ll have my sister keep an eye out for someone with a spare credit card and the inexplicable need to spoil me with lavish gifts from time to time.” I add that last bit just in case he hasn’t figured out yet that I’m screwing with him.
He takes both boxes and moves them down to the ground, eliminating the Styrofoam barrier between us. “You know, if meals are so important to you, I’m sure I could arrange for something other than takeout from time to time. I’m not about to promise any kind of conversation, but I could probably come up with some alternative ways to entertain you...other than the way I already entertain you. Maybe a movie or something along those lines? I mean, if that would help slim down the list of men you need to acquire.”
I crinkle my brow. I’m not sure I like where this is going. “Why would you do that?”
He comes toward me until our lips are touching. “Well, for personal reasons, I’d prefer you didn’t start a collection.”
Without moving away even the slightest little bit, I whisper back, “You’re not supposed to have those.”
He’s still not kissing me, just sweeping his mouth over mine while he continues to explain in his steady, deep voice, “They’re very selfish personal reasons. I like having you. All to myself. All the time.” His hands come up and reach around the back of my neck and head, tenderly massaging me and somehow managing to bring me even closer to him without fully connecting us. “But if you think you’ll have more fun with some suit-wearing douchebag like Carson, eating pretentious food from porcelain plates and using actual silverware while he drones on and on about his exciting life as a junior accountant, than you do here with me, where we wear nothing but skin and devour only each other while uttering words so filthy I bet you can’t say one right now without blushing, then by all means, go out with him and any other man you think can be of some use to you. I don’t want to get in the way of your needs being met.”
My hands reach for his belt buckle as I bite down on his bottom lip and briefly suck on it. “You make a very compelling argument. Now shut the fuck up and take off your clothes. I’m ready to be entertained.” I move in to kiss him, then stop. “And make it good. I have a boring dinner to suffer through tomorrow.”
There’s a flash of his wicked smile right before his mouth comes for mine. And I know this kiss is different. It’s like I’ve awakened a primal need within him to stake his claim on me. It’s intense and wild and passionate. And unwavering. And for the first time in a long time, I wish I wasn’t too dead inside to feel what it would mean to be his.
BY THE TIME I GET BACK to Kirsten’s the next morning, she’s sitting on my bed, waiting. Impatiently, I might add.
“The sun is barely even up. What time did you leave?” She gets up and tosses me the water bottle she’s been cradling in her lap. It’s still cold, so she hasn’t been down here too long.
“I took off around seven thirty.” It’s sort of true. That’s what time I left Riker’s place. “I’m sorry. Did we have some sort of appointment?” I chug my water, careful to hide my smirk .
“Don’t be a jackass. I came down here to tell you Nate and Sophie went to get cinnamon rolls from the Eat Three Bakery. I don’t think you’ve had those yet. They’re amazing.” She heads back toward the stairs. “Anyway, I notice you’re wearing the same running gear I saw you in yesterday evening. And your bed is perfectly made. Almost like you didn’t even sleep in it.”
I shrug, purposely gulping more water to pass the time. “Making the bed’s a nice little habit I picked up while I was gone. I do it without even thinking about it now. And there’s no point in washing my running gear after each run. It just gets gross and sweaty again.”
She scrunches up her nose as if she can smell me from across the room. Which is doubtful. I took a shower before I left this morning. We took a shower. Whatever. I’m clean. If anything, I smell like Riker’s standard mix of soap, sea, and sex, and that shit pretty much makes you wish your clothes could vanish into nothingness the second you get a whiff of it. It doesn’t make you contort your face into a pig’s snout.
“Something is up with you. And I’m going to figure out what it is.” She nods, but I’m pretty sure it’s more for herself than my sake. Then she leaves, closing the door behind her.
I turn toward Harley. “Well, that was close.” I’d planned on crawling into bed as soon as I got home to catch up on the sleep I missed last night. Kinda felt like I probably need to be well rested for the shopping spree Kirsten threatened me with yesterday. But now that I know cinnamon rolls are headed my way, I might as well go with the promise of a sugar high to get me through the day.
Since Kirsten expects me to be disgusting, I step into the bathroom and turn on the shower. I let the water run for a few minutes while I change clothes. I didn’t even break a sweat coming home this morning. Just walked down the beach, enjoying the peace and quiet. This time of year the tourists are out of control most of the time, but I still have the place nearly all to myself in the early morning hours.
When I venture up to the main living space, the whole family is already spread out around the kitchen island, digging into the hot and gooey rolls of sugar.
“You want one?” Kirsten reaches for a plate as soon as she sees me.
“Nah, that’s cool. I’ll just have the half Sophie’s wearing on her face here.” I dip my finger into a glob of cream cheese frosting and then tap her nose. She giggles, then unsuccessfully tries to reach her nose with her tongue.
Nate observes me over his coffee cup. “You’re in a good mood.”
I take the plate Kirsten made me anyway. “I really like cinnamon rolls.”
He puts down his mug, smiling like he knows something. “Oh. I thought maybe you were looking forward to your date with Carson this evening.” He knows nothing.
“Nope. It’s the cinnamon rolls.” With my plate in hand, I move over to the kitchen table and have a seat by myself. Until Kirsten takes the chair beside me.
“Listen. What are the odds of getting you into a dress tonight?”
I smile back at her. “I don’t know. About the same as getting you into a pair of overalls made entirely of burlap.”
She rolls her eyes. “Be serious, Quinn.”
“Back at ya.” I take a massive bite and practically rip it out of my cinnamon roll like an uncivilized animal. I don’t know why she always brings out my inner four-year-old. Maybe because she treats me like one.
Judging by her expression—and the smear of frosting on my cheek—I’m pretty grotesque to behold right now .
I swallow hard to get it all down, then surrender. “Fine. I’ll wear a dress. Whatever. But be warned that putting me in heels could prove potentially dangerous for myself as well as anyone within a ten-foot radius.”
She flicks her wrist, instantly dismissing my concerns. “It’s early. You have all day to practice walking in them.”
And I want to cry, because I know she’s not kidding.
From there, the day doesn’t get much better. After breakfast, Kirsten and I pile into her car, while Nate takes Sophie over to C.J.’s house for a play date with her husband and daughter, since C.J. winds up joining us on our shopping spree.
Four hours and three potential outfits later, we wind up back at the house, where Kirsten really does make me practice walking in the four-inch stilettos she purchased for me, insisting they were the only viable shoes for an evening out with a guy like Carson Winn, which instantly made me think of Riker and his considerably simpler dress code.
For some reason, almost everything that happens after I’m doomed to suffer for Carson’s sake triggers some thought of Riker in one form or another. Reminding me of something he said, something he did. A look he gave me. Anything and everything from the last month crosses my mind, suddenly making my afternoon a thousand times more bearable.
Until it’s time. Time for my date. Time for Carson Winn.