CHAPTER SEVEN
AFEWHOURSLATER, Quin sat alone on the deck, watching the stars. He had spent that time drinking rum and smoking cigars with Jared. No matter how many times he’d tried to bring the conversation around to rum, the topic never stuck. Jared would bring every topic back to his amazing life—the women, the money, the fancy big-boy toys. Jared had no substance, no business sense, and had lucked into his position of owner and CEO of a hugely successful company through nothing more than the dumb luck of being born to the right family. Before Quin could manage to acquire any sort of conditional distribution deal, Jared lolled to the side, drunk off his ass, and said he needed to go to bed, where he presumably passed out in his stateroom.
Quin missed Celia and wanted to go to her. But he couldn’t pull himself from the sundeck of the yacht. If he went downstairs, he knew he would skip his own door and go right to Celia’s. He wanted her again. In the close confines belowdecks, Quin knew that if he kept messing around with Celia, Jared would surely catch them together. And he knew that if Jared caught them together any deal he hoped to make would be completely squashed, and repercussions would fall upon Celia, as well.
The boat bobbed on the ocean, and despite his frustration it lulled him into relaxation. Or maybe it was the half-empty bottle of rum that sat at his side. He poured a little more into his glass and sipped—their aged spiced honey batch was one of their best. Gemma had worked her ass off to create it. There were limited bottles, and they were in high demand, and he’d still brought one for Jared—and the man had guzzled back a couple of glasses without even tasting it. It hadn’t come as no surprise to him that Jared had no idea how to sip it appreciatively. He took no time for the finer things.
Quin puffed on one of the cigars. When Jared caught him coming out of Celia’s room, he’d come close to screwing up the deal with Seacoast. Jared thought he had some sort of claim over Celia, although that clearly wasn’t true. He didn’t own her. But one misstep, and Quin could say goodbye to one of the most lucrative deals the Rexfords had ever made.
But God, when he thought about Jared Foster, he didn’t want to do business with the guy. While it would be easy to ignore Jared if he was only a bit of a heel, Quin was starting to see that maybe there was something more dangerous or sinister to his behavior. And if there was, could Quin just take it all back? Could he just tell Reid the deal was off? Get off the boat and take Celia with him? But then that would prove to Reid what he’d known all along, that Quin was the family screwup who couldn’t be trusted to handle business. Sure, he was the guy who worked the room and made the connections, but some days it just didn’t feel like his position in the business was important. He needed to know that at least some of Rexford’s success was because of him.
All night, Jared had looked at him, and Quin hadn’t been able to read the meaning behind his stare at all. The man had been suspicious of him coming out of Celia’s room. Did Jared know that there was something going on between them? As if Quin had staked a claim on Celia; Jared was jealous. But Quin wasn’t going to let him anywhere near her. While Quin’s mind focused on his professional failures, they were nothing compared to how his personal failures made him feel. Even though their relationship had changed since she’d said “you’ve never been a relationship guy,” he could still hear Celia’s words as if she was next to him.
He heard light footsteps behind him. He turned and saw Celia standing at the top of the staircase behind him. “Hey,” he said.
“Hi. What some company?”
“Yeah, sure.” He moved over from the center of the mattress on the lounging pad, and she sat with him.
“Gorgeous night.”
Quin looked at Celia as she settled in next to him. She was now wearing a long red dress that looked unbelievably sexy in the moonlight. She could talk about how gorgeous a night it was all she wanted, but he couldn’t tell as long as she was there. “It sure is.” He remembered that she’d skipped dinner. “Have you eaten anything yet?”
“Yeah, one of the stewards brought a snack to my room a little while ago. She must have known I didn’t want to be anywhere near Jared.”
Quin smiled. “I don’t blame you.”
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I heard Jared come down and go to his room and slam the door. But when I didn’t hear you, I wondered what you were doing. I thought Jared might have thrown you overboard or something.” Quin laughed and drank again. “So what are you doing up here—” she nodded at the bottle “—drinking alone?”
If she’d been any other woman, Quin might have lied, told her “everything’s fine, baby,” and changed the topic. But with Celia, he didn’t want to lie. He sighed. “Sometimes I feel like the world’s biggest screwup.”
“You’re a part owner of one of the most popular spirits brands in the country, and you’re sitting on a yacht in the middle of the Caribbean. If that’s screwing up, then I’m sure there are lots of people who wished they were screwups like you.”
He thought about what she’d said. But it made him feel better. “You know Celia, we’ve slept together a couple of times now.”
“Yeah, I know. I was there, remember?”
“It’s starting to feel like we have a relationship.”
“Sex alone does not make a relationship,” she told him.
He sighed. He’d learned that lesson after his years of screwing around with women. “You’re right about that. It sure doesn’t.”
“Quin, we’ve been through this. We aren’t going to be any more than friends.”
“Friends with benefits,” he clarified.
“If that’s what you want,” she said.
He shook his head and tried to hide the desperation in his voice and sound like he was joking. “So, we hang out, we talk, we have sex. Still feels like a relationship.”
She laughed and took his glass from his hands. “Not a chance.”
She frowned, turning serious, and he regretted pushing it. “Seriously, Quin, I spent eight years trying to get over you. My heart can’t afford it.”
Quin nodded. “I know. I really screwed up back then. And I’ve apologized.”
“You have and I appreciate it. That’s why I’m letting you be my friend.”