The Dirty Series 1(161)
“Fuck. I’m sorry,” I say, reaching across the table for her hand.
She takes another sip of wine. “It was pretty goddamn unbelievable. After that, I didn’t want to stay in my house. I didn’t want to stay in Colorado. I’m just lucky Carolyn wanted a roommate.”
“I think she misses Jess more than she lets on.”
“I can imagine! That massive apartment must be lonely with only one person rattling around.”
I think of my own penthouse in Midtown, the rooms filled with my things. None of it really matters.
Fuck. I don’t know where this thing with Quinn is going, but I can already tell that it’s going to be hard to end it, and the scene isn’t going to be pretty.
I get lost in thought for a moment too long.
Quinn fills in the silence.
“You didn’t tell me you had a tattoo,” she comments casually, and my heart stops.
I’d almost forgotten about the damn thing.
It almost never comes up, since I usually bring women here in the dead of night, in the dark, and I’m dressed before they’re out of bed. A frigid anxiety twists my gut.
When I look across at Quinn, her eyes are filled with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, too quickly. “Yeah, it’s nothing.” I laugh and the tone of it convinces her. “My mind wandered for a second there.” Then I give her a devilish stare. “Maybe we should go back to bed.”
Quinn’s face slowly relaxes, and then she smiles. “Race you.”
Chapter Nineteen
Quinn
Carolyn is sitting on the couch in the living room when I get back, even though it’s almost midnight. She has several binders spread out on the table in front of her and a pencil tucked behind her ear. When I step through the door, she starts in on me in a panicked voice.
“Quinn!” she cries, then grabs up her phone from the table. “Oh, my God, it’s late.” She gives her head a little shake as if to clear some cobwebs, then gives me a second look. “Wait. Have you been at work?”
“No,” I say, laughing. “But it looks like you have. Is this stuff for the boutique?”
“Yeah,” Carolyn says with a little sigh. “I left some details to finalize after I was done with the other job, but it turns out there’s more to do than I thought.”
“Shit.” I drop down onto the couch next to her. “When are you planning to open?”
“Next Friday.”
“You’ve got time, then,” I say lightly.
“Not much time.” She blows her breath out through her lips. “I mean, the store is mostly set up, but I still have to go through and—” She waves a hand at the binders. “You know.”
I nod sagely, though I wouldn’t know the first thing about running a boutique. All I know is how to shop in them.
Carolyn laughs. “It’s good to know I have your support.”
“You totally do.”
She narrows her eyes. “If you weren’t at work, where were you? I’m dying to know.” Then she puts a hand over her mouth. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s none of my damn business.”
It’s right at that moment that I feel completely overtaken by the need to share this—at least part of it—with a friend. My former best friend isn’t an option, and I don’t have a sister. Carolyn is the closest person to me.
I can trust her.
“If I tell you, you have to swear not to say a word about it.” I look her straight in the eye.
Her face instantly lights up. Everyone loves gossip, and it’s a pretty safe bet that Carolyn, like anyone else, loves secrets. “I won’t,” she says solemnly.
“I’m serious, Care.”
“I’m serious, too.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Maybe we should have some wine.” I only had a single glass at Christian’s.
“It’s midnight!”
“It’s the perfect time.” I leap up from the couch and cross into the kitchen while Carolyn tucks some stray papers back into her binders. When I come back with two glasses of white wine, she’s tucked her legs underneath her and is leaned back into the arm of the couch.
“Don’t keep me in suspense, Q. It’s not fair.”
“Okay,” I say, settling in and pulling a blanket over my legs. “I was at Christian Pierce’s apartment.”
Carolyn’s eyes go wide, and the wine glass freezes halfway to her lips. “What?”
“I don’t know—” I break off, searching for a way to make this seem less crazy than it probably is. “The other night when he helped me with my luggage, there was just something…between us, you know? And then we ran into him at the Swan, and then—Care, you’re never going to fucking believe this. He’s my client at HRM.”