Page 35 of Four More The Merrier

"Shit." I rub my face, the stubble rough against my palms. "What room's she in?"

"412. Try not to be an ass this time."

I stand up, my head swimming. The blonde - Brandy, that was it - stirs beside me.

"Where are you going, baby?" Her voice grates against my hangover. "Come back to bed."

"Got business to handle." I pull on my jeans, searching for my shirt among the mess of clothes on the floor.

"What kind of business is more important than this?" She stretches, trying to show off what little assets she has.

"The kind that involves making nice with our opener." I find my shirt wadded under the bed. "You can see yourself out."

"Excuse me?" She sits up, clutching the sheet to her chest like she's suddenly developed modesty. "You're seriously ditching me for that wannabe?"

"Look, sugar." I run a hand through my hair, catching my reflection in the mirror. Mama's eyes stare back at me. "This ain't a romance novel. We both knew what this was."

"You're an asshole, Jarron Haynes."

"So I've been told." I grab my phone and wallet. "Lock up when you leave."

Her string of curse words follows me out the door. Another notch on the bedpost, another girl I'll forget by next week. Mama would've tanned my hide for treating women this way, famous or not. 'Every person deserves respect,' she'd say, 'even if they don't respect themselves.'

The hangover and guilt twist my stomach into knots as I head for the hotel elevator.

The ride up gives me time to realize just how much I reek of bourbon and bad decisions. The hallway stretches forever, my boots too loud on the thin carpet. At 412, I raise my hand to knock, then hesitate.

"Quinn?" My voice comes out rougher than intended. "It's Jarron."

The door swings open and Beau fills the frame, his normally friendly face twisted into something dark. His pearl snap shirt is wrinkled like he slept in it.

"The hell do you want?"

"Just need to talk to Quinn for a minute."

"She cried half the damn night because of you." Beau's fingers curl into fists. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't knock your teeth down your throat right now."

My head throbs. "Look, I just want to apologize."

"You've done enough."

"Come on, man. Five minutes."

Steam billows from the bathroom as the shower cuts off. Beau glances over his shoulder, then back at me with a warning in his eyes. "She's in the shower. You can wait, but I'm staying right here."

I lean against the wall, the silence stretching uncomfortable between us. The bathroom door opens and Quinn emerges in hotel sweats, her wet hair dripping onto her shoulders. She freezes when she sees me.

"What's he doing here?"

"Apparently apologizing," Beau says, not taking his eyes off me.

I clear my throat. "Listen, about last night... I was drunk and being an ass. You didn't deserve that."

"That's your apology?" Quinn crosses her arms. "You've been a jerk since day one."

"Yeah, well..." I run a hand through my hair. "I'll try to do better. You're... you're actually pretty good. The fans seem to like you."

"Wow, high praise." Her voice drips sarcasm. "Is that all?"

---