Page 15 of Midnight Oil

"And I enjoyed every last sprinkle on my break." She stood up and took a deep breath. "I'm glad you're not avoiding me altogether. I would hate to think we can no longer talk after our night together."

"I was hoping the same thing. I'm sorry about all of it, Suzy. I'm sorry I'm such a fucking disappointment. I deserve every negative thought you have about me."

She placed her hand on my arm. Her fingers were long and soft and warm. "No negative thoughts," she said as she lowered her hand. "Only positive ones."

She stooped down to pick up her duffle. I shot my arm forward to take hold of the handle. My hand wrapped temporarily around hers and it seemed charges of electricity circled our fingers. I knew I was holding the hand of the woman I'd been wanting since I first met her. Unfortunately, she didn't see me in the same light.

"I can carry the duffle out to your car." I lifted it. "Feels like you have your whole life in here."

We headed through the dark building to the parking lot.

"Pretty much my whole life. Which shows you just how pathetic that life is. The good news is that the bruise on my hip is less tender, so I was able to sling pints of ale without too much problem."

"Your life is not pathetic." I stopped in the dark hallway and turned to her. It was a narrow passage and due to my size we were nearly pressed against each other. My typical thoughts went right to a vision of me pushing her up against the wall and sliding my hands underneath the sundress. My cock pushed against the fly of my jeans as I tried to shake the image from my head.

I knew I was pushing myself to the limit but I took hold of her hand and kissed it. "Milady, you are far from pathetic. You are stunning and smart and funny and the sexiest damn woman I have ever met. And if I was a different person, a stranger just meeting you for the first time, I would use that chance to start over and show you just how much I could love you."

Her eyes were glassy as if she was close to tears. She'd had an emotional twenty-four hours and looked ready to fall into a million pieces. She pressed her hands against my chest, a move that was meant to be casual but it set my pulse racing. "And if you were a different person I wouldn't like you nearly as much. You should never change for someone else, Quinn. I just learned that the hard way. I went out of my way to bend to what Tate wanted in a girlfriend. Somewhere along the way, I lost myself. But I'm determined to find the original Suzy again."

In her own gentle way, she was telling me that she wanted to be left alone. I couldn't blame her. It sucked big time but I was going to respect her wishes. I peeled away from facing her. I could swear I heard the snap of static electricity as our auras separated. Or maybe I was only hearing that on my side.

As we headed across the parking lot to her car, her phone beeped. She pulled it out and looked at it. "Shoot. My friend has her sister in town so there's no couch. As you probably surmised, I moved out, instead of Tate. I did give the landlord notice though, so with any luck, fuckface will find himself out on the street." She sighed. "Guess I'll be heading to my mom's after all. Oh boy is she going to grill me seven ways to Sunday about my breakup with Tate."

I laughed. "I thought it was six ways to Sunday."

"Not with my mom. Seven is being conservative. On the bright side, there will be a heaping plate of pancakes waiting for me when I go downstairs in the morning."

"Not sure if it's a trade off for the grilling," I said, "but it can't hurt."

We reached her car. She spun around to face me before opening the door. "I'm glad things didn't get tense between us, Quinn. I would have missed this."

That's because we have something special. That's why I want to be with you, is what I wanted to say. Instead, I just nodded and smiled and told her to pop the trunk for her duffle bag. There was no way to deny that I was feeling past miserable about the reality that Suzy just didn't have romantic feelings for me. It was my first time on the other side of being hurt, and I was starting to feel pretty damn shitty about myself and the women I'd hurt. It seemed it was time for me to find myself too.

I placed the duffle in her trunk. It was filled with boxes sealed with tape. I shut the trunk. She worked hard to put a roof over her head and now she had to give it up to the jerk. He never deserved her in the first place.

"Thanks for carrying my bag." She smiled up at me from the driver's seat.

"Anytime. And if you get sick of pancakes, you have a room at my house. No strings attached, I promise."

She gazed up at me and a faint smile appeared. Her smile was always punctuated with one dimple on her right cheek. It was just one of the incredible details I'd memorized about her.

"That's nice to know." She pulled her leg into the car and I shut the door. I walked to my car. Headlights lit up the lot as Suzy turned her car toward the exit. Mildly drunk or not, I was going to have a hard time not thinking about her tonight.

Fourteen

Suzy

Ireached a stoplight and took a few aggravating seconds to search for my mom's house key. It was attached to an old Mickey Mouse key chain. I'd left it on the key chain to remind myself that going home meant that, like a little kid, I couldn't hack it on my own. I tried more than once to convince myself that my new status of being homeless was not my fault. I had a house, crummy as it was, that was paid for all the way through next month. But I really had only myself to blame. I'd stuck with Tate for a good year longer than I should have. Somehow, I'd talked myself into being in love with him, but my feelings for Tate had turned around so sharply, I couldn't even think about standing in the same room with him, let alone sleeping in the same bed. As far as I was concerned, that chapter of my life was so completely over, it was as if months had already passed since I first saw the woman leaving our house and since I told him we were through.

My fingers brushed over the cold metal Mickey Mouse key chain. I yanked it free of my purse and stared at it. After being out on my own for three years, I was heading back to my pink and white little girl bedroom. Mom was, no doubt, going to recite a long list of mistakes I'd made in the past three years that led to my humiliating downfall.

I dropped the key in the console and cranked up the radio, hoping it would lift me out of my grim mood. I had no idea what the odds were that the first song playing would be CCR'sSuzy Q, but they would have won me a nice payoff in Vegas. There was no way to not think about Quinn, on his first day of work, when he belted out a few verses of the song upon meeting me. All I could think was—wow, this guy is as confident as he is good looking. And his singing voice wasn't bad either. We became instant friends because of that unique first meeting. And, just as I'd mentioned to him tonight, after our initial introduction he always made a point of searching me out, even if it was just to say hello. He never missed a chance to talk. "Never," I said quietly beneath the din of the music.

I pulled into the left lane and headed back the way I'd come. It was stupid and crazy and I was absolutely, definitely going to regret this in the morning. But my life was just out of sync enough that a little impulsiveness was easily excused. At least that was the argument I was going to tell myself after the full weight of regret sank in. But how much regret could there be. It was Quinn Armstrong, after all.

I had expected to be a bundle of nerves and indecision as I turned onto the road that would eventually lead me to the top of the hill where Quinn's extraordinary house was nestled in the hillside, but surprisingly, I felt quite calm. That was until the notion set in that Quinn might have invited one of his manyfriendsover to spend the night. Wasn't Zoe asking about hanging out?

I drove up the long driveway. The garage was closed, and there were no spare cars parked out front. For all of five seconds, I considered turning back around and leaving. "Damn it, Suzy, grow a pair. Just go up to the door and knock. What's the worst that could happen? An incredibly gorgeous woman could answer dressed in skimpy lingerie. That's the worst, I think. It certainly wouldn't be a shocking surprise. Then I could just apologize and slink away to my pink and white room and pile of pancakes. So stop talking to yourself and do this, Suzy."

---