Page 92 of Waiting for Friday Night

“Oh believe me, I won’t.” He quickly got up and tried to escape. Several people stopped him for conversation, but finally Quinton made it to the front of the bed-and-breakfast.

“Quinton! Hold up.”

Quinton turned at the sound of his name then immediately wished he’d kept going. “I thought we were done, Khris.”

Khris jogged the last few steps toward him. “I know you don’t want to talk to me.”

“No, I don’t.”

Khris’s fake smile was gone, and a serious expression covered his face. “But we need to.”

“There’s nothing left for us to say.”

Khris lifted a brow. “Talk to your parents and get the whole story.”

That stopped Quinton. He was glad his shades might hide some of the surprise he felt. “What whole story?”

Khris’s smirk returned, but even though he typically looked self-satisfied whenever he’d given Quinton that smirk as a kid, today he looked like he was annoyed to have to deal with this. “Talk to them, then call me.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Khris took a few steps back. “I’ll wait for your call.” He turned and hurried back to the crowd breaking up.

Quinton frowned, watching him. Annoyed that he was once again playing games. There was no story to tell. Khris was an asshole who’d tormented him his entire childhood. No way was he going to fall for his games now.

He walked toward the line of cars where he’d parked his truck. Noticed a couple and stopped in his tracks. “What the hell?”

“What the fuck!” Tracey’s voice came from the porch.

Quinton looked at Tracey’s husband wrapped up in the arms of another woman. Quinton pulled off his glasses. He couldn’t be sure, but he’d swear that was Monique, the woman who worked the desk at the inn. Tracey ran off the porch toward her husband and employee before the thought finished taking shape. Her arms rose and fire in her eyes. Bernard pushed the woman behind him, grabbed Tracey’s flying fists before she could hit either of them. Quinton closed his eyes and cursed. So much for a successful Best Small Town farewell luncheon.

Twenty-Nine

Halle drove onto her street right before eight that evening. After the chaos at the luncheon, she and Imani had spent the afternoon trying to console their friend. Tracey had been angry, that was evident from the way she’d tried to claw Bernard’s eyes out the moment she’d seen him kissing her employee. After the anger had died down, the pain had taken its place. No amount of wine or ice cream was going to heal the hurt of being betrayed, so Imani and Halle did the best they could to try to just let their friend have room to vent her feelings.

Bernard came back home around seven thirty and said he and Tracey needed to talk. Halle and Imani had offered to stay and help her kick him out if that was what she wanted. Tracey insisted that she was ready to talk, so they’d left.

Now, as Halle approached her house, she sent up a silent prayer for Tracey. No matter how much her friend had already assumed that Bernard was cheating on her, it wasn’t the same as actually finding out. And in such a brazen way. How could they be so bold as to kiss each other, no matter how brief, at a popular event at Tracey’s place of business? She hadn’t disliked Bernard, but she hadn’t been a big fan of his either. To know that he would do this to Tracey made her want to turn around and ram her car into the back of his.

Sighing, she pulled into her driveway. Her cell phone rang shortly after she got in the house. Quinton’s number and she remembered she’d asked him to be at her place at six.

She answered the call. “I’m sorry, I forgot about six.”

“Don’t even bother to apologize,” he said in a strong, supportive voice. “I know you were taking care of your friend. I just want to check and see if you were okay.”

She sighed. “I’ve been better. Do you still feel like coming over?”

“You still want to see me?” he asked, surprised.

She wanted nothing more than to be comforted and have someone with her right now. “Yes. It’s been a rough day. I could use a hug.”

“I’m on my way.”

The call ended and Halle smiled. She took a shower and changed out of the blazer and slacks she’d worn to the luncheon into gray loungewear. She’d just made herself a cup of tea when the doorbell rang. She left the tea on the kitchen counter and ran to the front door. Quinton engulfed her in a strong hug as soon as she let him in.

“Thank you,” she whispered against his chest.

He squeezed her tight. “What did I tell you?”

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