Page 70 of No Place Like Home

It was a lie, but I was fond of her.

“Oh, you were always a charmer. What brings you here?”

“I was sent to drop off some coffee for Miss Morrison.”

The secretary smiled brightly at me. She gave me directions to Jess’s room, and I waved goodbye.

“Oh, Quincy,” she told me. “She doesn’t like going by her last name. Miss Jess is just fine.”

Her reply made me feel sad. There were so many layers to Jess, and it scared me because I think I wanted to know them all.

The walk was quick, and I found Jess's room in no time. The door was closed, and I was surprised to see she had covered her door with chalkboard paint. I stopped and looked at it, and I thought it was cute that all her kids scribbled on it like the customers did at Emma's.

Suddenly, I found myself hesitating before I opened the door.

CHAPTERTWENTY

My phone had beenon silent all day. I didn’t want to know anything that was going on in my family group chat. I was embarrassed and mortified, and part of me couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that I did the nasty with Quincy.

Shiiiit. Did that make me a football groupie now?

I would have complained that my life was dull and boring, but I didn’t like this new excitement.

My kids had been great today. There were no emergencies. No, the universe told them to behave, and I didn’t want that because that meant I could have free time to let my mind wander. I would have gladly taken all of Charlie’s questions today, but nope. He had nothing for me.

I was dying. I needed coffee. I’d left mine at the diner in my state, and the coffee in the teachers’ room was crap. It wasn’t like I even tried to go there, since I needed a damn scarf to cover the mess Quincy made on my neck.

I told the kids I’d burned myself with the straightener when they asked about the hickey. Bless their young souls, because they bought it.

The door to my room burst open, startling me from my thoughts.

Fuck.

My hand came to my neck as I tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. My stomach dropped, and my mouth parted when the very man I had wanted to avoid walked through that door.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed, mortified, as I got up and put both my hands on the desk.

He didn’t say anything. He just kept walking toward me with his head cocked. His eyes weren’t on me but on the stupid mark on my neck. I was about to yell at him some more, but he licked his lips, and then I remembered those lips on me. The way they felt tracing down my collarbone.

I let my head drop. “What are you doing here, Quincy?”

He stopped at the other side of my desk. I was drowning in his presence, but I didn’t want to look up at him. I hadn’t processed what had happened between us. All I knew was that we had sex. He had been inside me, I had moaned his name, and I had felt things I hadn’t before.

Shit.

There it was.

My cheeks flamed.

I finally knew why people were so obsessed with sex.

He silently slid an iced coffee cup my way. I could tell he’d had it for a while because the sweet cold foam was almost non-existent.

I took it, and my hands shook as I brought it to my lips. I knew he was watching all my reactions, but I needed this more, so I let his gaze take the back seat.

Cold brew.

It was just how I drank it.

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