Page 19 of His Lovebug

He glanced around and rested his chin on his palm. “I need a place to stay until I leave town. Maybe someone in my corner in case a few people I’ve pissed off figure out where I am. I might like to borrow some cash until my payday comes in.”

“Be given money,” I corrected. “You will never pay Matt back.”

He lifted a lazy shoulder, conceding the point.

“You know, if I had a good brother I loved who was in trouble, I would give him money.” I raised my eyebrows. “Perhaps you should recalculate your strategy.”

He sighed and sat back hard in his chair. “Where’s the fun in that?” His pretty smile was back.

“What do you enjoy about upsetting people?” I sipped my coffee and the kick from the alcohol gave me a shiver.

“It’s fun at the time,” he whispered. “Want to find out how much?”

Sighing, I shook my head. “How good does it feel now?”

He pouted, and I couldn’t help it, I laughed.

Royal came huffing and puffing up to our table and bent over, resting his hands on his knees. The dark stubble on his jaw glinted in the sunshine.

Jackson gave him a once-over and sat up straighter in his chair. People usually reacted that way to Royal’s classic good looks. “Are you the man Matt sent to make sure I don’t make sweet love to the beautiful Quin?” He winked at me, and despite myself, I smiled and shook my head.

Royal huffed out a long breath and straightened, resting a hand on his side. “That’s why he told me to get here as soon as possible?” He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. “Fuck.”

“Would you like a drink?” I asked.

Royal shook his head. “I have my instructions. They’re to get you home. I don’t know what’s going on, but he wants you back at the house, safe and sound.” Royal gave me a wide grin and gestured along the street. “Sorry, I had to park a block away.”

“It’s fine.” I stood, and Royal extended his elbow out toward me with a grin, but I shook my head and followed him to a silver Mercedes. He opened the front door for me and left Jackson to find his own seat in the back.

It didn’t take long before we got home, and I wanted to ask Royal about a thousand questions, but that wasn’t happening. Irritation began to worm its way through me, the kind I hadn’t been experiencing recently because Matt chased away all the bad things in my life. Royal and I shared a look, and he fired a wink at me.

Once we were back in the house, I had trouble settling down, even though Royal was there to keep an eye on Jackson. No matter what I did—study, read a book, take a swim—the knowledge that Jackson was in the house, most likely thinking up ways to annoy Matt, began to itch at the back of my mind.

Finally, I gave up and decided to prepare something that would take a while for dinner, just to eat up the time while Matt was gone and give him a nice surprise when he got home. I landed on beef Wellington and baked Alaska. I didn’t know how to make baked Alaska, so I would have to pay attention to the recipe, which sounded perfect.

I waved at Royal on my way into the kitchen. He was lounging at the bottom of the steps on the main staircase.

“He’s upstairs in the guest room,” Royal said.

“Jackson isn’t a prisoner as far as I know,” I said, breezing past him.

“That’s not how Colt was acting.”

I smiled over my shoulder at Royal, and when I got into the kitchen, I grinned as I pulled an apron out of a drawer. I had several, and this one would look cute with my dress. It was white with blue flowers. I put it on and sashayed around the kitchen before I got started.

Everything about this kitchen was originally made to fit Matt’s fantasy of the perfect wife. The overall theme was basically a pink explosion. The backsplash and tiles on the walls were coquette pink. There were, of course, roses on all the dishtowels. To top it all off, bronze pans hung over a rose-marble island. It was a darned good thing I loved the color pink because it would’ve taken a lot of effort to change things if I didn’t.

Matt was my perfect fit. Grinning, I spun a little circle, just because I could.

A quick check confirmed that I had to order groceries, and I eventually went upstairs to drag down a book because the prep time on beef Wellington was four hours.

In the kitchen I was able to ignore the feeling that someone else was in the house, and I got lost in what I was doing. By dinnertime, I was pulling the beef Wellington and potatoes out of the oven, then getting the baked Alaska ready to pop in, when it occurred to me that Matt wasn’t home yet. I set the dessert back in the freezer and texted him.

Quin

Where are you?

Matt

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