“Who’s with you?”
“Miley. Some others are hanging around and getting a good look at the damage.”
“Don’t move.”
There were three beeps, then nothing. I stared at my phone, then put it in my pocket. “Quinn’s on his way, I think,” I sighed.
“You have Quinn’s number,” Miley said, her tone accusatory.
I turned my head to the side, regarding her. “So?”
Before Miley could answer, a huge body cast a shadow over her features, capturing her attention. “Hey, Quinn,” she greeted him, her delighted expression catching me off guard.
I spun around and tilted my head back to see him staring down at me. “That was quick.” I took him in, all six-feet-and-a-few-toes towering over me, his presence commanding, even with the black eye, bruised cheek, and cut eyebrow, all on the left side of his face. His lips were split free, but there was darkening around his jaw.
“I was around,” he said, then jerked his head toward my car. “Leave it here—I’ll take you home.” He smirked. “When you’ve finished staring at me.”
Miley’s face bounced between the two of us.
“Get over yourself,” I blew out, rolling my eyes.
Quinn’s low laugh sent a shiver down my spine, and it seemed like it did for the others around us who’d gotten a helluva lot closer than before.
Huh.
He lifted his hand, and I saw he was carrying his helmet. “Safety first, right?” He turned around and led me to a different part of the lot, the people around us parting to let him through.
“Um, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Miley asked, teetering along with us.
“Sure.”
Quinn handed me the helmet, and once I’d put it on, he got to work on adjusting the straps under my chin. His close proximity, his clean smell, and body heat all mixed in had my heart thundering in my chest, and my lungs tightening.
“Stop holding your breath,” Quinn whispered.
I blew out quicker than I’d intended, making me sound like a deflating balloon. His mouth tightened, then he dropped his hands. He kicked his leg over the bike and jerked his chin for me to get on.
“Not too tight,” he said over his shoulder after I got on. “I need to breathe too.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, my voice muffled. I loosened my grip around his hard body, just enough that I wasn’t squeezing the life out of him, literally.
Without another word, he started the bike and rode out of the campus parking lot with our audience watching in fascination.
Chapter 7
Quinn
I pulled up outside Kinsley’s house, her mom’s car gone. I needed to know what the fuck had happened and who was responsible for slashing her tire.
I had an idea, but without proof, I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Kinsley got off the bike, her warm hands sliding against me as she slipped her leg over the seat, making my body tense and my cock to stir. She took off the helmet but didn’t hand it over. “Thanks, Quinn, again.”
“What happened?” I didn’t want to dance around with gratitude and shit; I wanted to know what she knew.
“I don’t know. I came out and saw Miley standing there with some others.” She continued to tell me the details, right up until she called.
“Anybody got anything against you?” I asked, but I already knew the answer to that. Well, my answer, not hers.
“Only one person springs to mind,” she said, rocking on her heels. She wouldn’t look at me. Instead, she looked anywhere, but.
“I’ll be gone in a minute,” I snapped. “No need to worry about who sees us together.” I was tired of the bullshit of judgmental fuckers who assumed to know me.
Kinsley’s green eyes flew to mine, her head lifting up. “Why would I care about who sees you?” Her face flamed, her top lip curling up as she spoke. “Do you think I give a shit?”
I leaned on my handlebars, my engine still ticking over. “Don’t you?”
“No!”
“Hm.” I relaxed back, slouching where I sat, my foot planted flat on the ground. “You care about your mom seeing me here, though.”
The cute blush to her cheeks intensified. “She was a little… Upset.” She looked away again, which pissed me off. “My uncle—” she blurted out, then stopped herself.
“Just say it, for fuck’s sake,” I said, my tone laced with boredom.
Her expression darkened, but her eyes glistened with tears. “He was killed. He was riding his motorcycle when a guy pulled out on him. He died at the scene.”
I dropped my head, shame covering me, and had my arms flinching at my sides. I didn’t know what the fuck I wanted to do, but seeing Kinsley upset again did some weird shit to my head. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Is that why your mom was mad at you?”
Kinsley nodded. “Do you want to come inside?”
“No.”
“Okay.” Her brows pumped once with attitude.
“Just okay?”
“Yeah, why not?”
I narrowed my eyes. “That’s not the reaction I was expecting.” I thought I’d get some snark, a catty response like, ‘well, thanks for the ride, now fuck off.’
“I’m not asking you in for ‘coffee,’” she said, lifting her fingers for emphasis. “I just thought that if you’re going to grill me about my mother, then I’d rather you do it inside where the neighbors can’t eavesdrop on my business.”
I held my hands out for my helmet, and Kinsley handed it over without another word. She turned and walked toward the white front door and stopped to unlock it.
“Milk, no sugar,” I said behind her, and she jumped, making me laugh.
Her hand flew to her chest, right on top of the navy-blue jacket she had zipped up. “Jesus, you scared me, you idiot.”
The laugh died in my throat when I saw she was deadly serious. “Not my intention.”
Kinsley mumbled under her breath as she opened the door to a white hallway with dark, wooden flooring. The staircase to the left was covered in a deep-red carpet, winding to the right at the top, and circling overhead like a balcony, leaving the high ceiling exposed with a crystal drop type light dangling down.
She placed her keys in a bowl on the narrow wooden unit. “Kitchen’s this way,” she said, and I followed close behind through another white door and into an open-plan space. “Take a seat.” Kinsley gestured to a rectangular table, a gray marble top surrounded by six black fabric chairs.
I pulled one out and sat down, finding it more comfortable than it looked. As Kinsley got to work on the coffee maker, I looked around a little more, noticing pictures lining a wall at the other end of the room where a gray L-shaped sofa at against the far end.
A tall plant, maybe a fern—I don’t know—added a bit of color to the plain room, and so did Kinsley.
Her dark-blue jeans contrasted against the stark white of the cupboard doors but looked so much lighter next to the black granite countertop. Tiny silver speckles on the surface caught the light when Kinsley moved, but it wasn’t what I noticed more than anything. It was the defeated posture she had with her back turned to me.