Page 22 of Just One Moment

“Hey, we can’t all look likeDisneyPrincesseswhen we wake up in the morning.”Ipout and run my fingers over the tender spot on my head.

Hebrings his thumb and forefinger to massage his nose, pushing his glasses up from his face, but he still doesn’t look at me, because clearlyIlook like a wretched monster.

“Quinn.”Iusually love it when he says my name, that one syllable sounding delightful in his voice, but right now it’s said through gritted teeth.

“What,Graham?Youbarged into my bakery,”Isnap. “Andnow you come in here like a bear that’s been woken up early from its hibernation.”

“Jesus, woman!Yourboob is hanging out!”

CHAPTER NINE

graham

Shehelps me recall

AbouttimesIfelt worthy

Witha simple smile

I’velostcount of the number of timesI’vepictured whatQuinnwould look like first thing in the morning.

Thereal thing exceeds all expectations.

Flushedcheeks that look soft and pink like the petals of a rose.Carameleyes shining bright in the early morning sun.Hairtousled perfectly, as if someone had been running their hands through it all night.

God,Iwish it had been my hands.

Avery deprived, filthy part of my mind had imagined what her soft curves and full breasts looked like too.Though,Ihadn’t expected to be flashed by her in the middle of the bakery.

Mynerves and heart rate are still sky-high, even now thatIknow she’s not hurt.Well, apart from the small cut on her forehead.

Wewere due to meet at seven thirty, whereIwould talk herthrough my plan to look over her books and she would put me out of my misery and tell me that it was absurd for me to ask her to be my fake girlfriend.AsimpleMondaymorning transaction.

I’dexpected her to be here early, she told me she would be.

Whenmy watch read 7:45, something felt off.JohannaandPatrickspotted me waiting outside and evenJostarted to get a little antsy, stating this is very unlikeQuinn.Shecalled her cell but was met with her voicemail each time.

ThemomentIsaw a pair of feet sticking out behind the counter through the window,ItoldPatrickto callDex, whoIknew would have no issue fixing the wooden door frame afterIbarreled through it.DexisPatrick’sbest friend, who he’s known since kindergarten.Theguy has at least three inches on my six-foot-three frame, is covered head to toe in tattoos, and a very talented carpenter/joiner by trade.

Iwas luckyIdidn’t shatter the pane of glass whenIshouldered my way into the bakery.WhenIwas over the threshold, and a muffledowechoed through the quiet space, my anxiety eased off, butIwas still worked up from thinking the worst.

Myeyes are still safely trained on the ceiling whenIhearQuinngiggle. “Oops.Nipplesafely away.Youcan look now, you big prude.”

Thiswoman.I’venever met anyone who accepts everything in stride the way she does.Though,Idon’t meet a lot of women who would flash a boob and be so nonchalant about it either.

Witha deep breath,Ilet my eyes wander back to where she’s kneeling on the floor at my feet, legs twisted in a purple, knitted blanket. “I’mnot a prude,”Imutter, sounding exactly like a prude. “I—your”—Igesture toward her chest—“Ididn’t mean to look.”Ididn’t want to look away, is whatI’mreally thinking.

“I’mjust teasing.You’rea gentleman,Irespect that.”Shewouldn’t thinkIwas a gentleman if she knew whatIwas imagining.

Hersitting at my feet, just like this, only with flushed cheeks and hair mussed for a completely different reason.Browneyes looking up at me as she grips my thighs, taking me deeper with each shallow thrust of my hips.

Fuck, this is not good.Ican’t be thinking these things ever, let alone whenI’maround her.

Needingto hide the stiffness pressing against my zipper,Icrouch down in front of her, glancing over my shoulder to seeJopulling down the chairs from the tables andPatrickwalking around outside on the phone.

WhenIturn back,Quinnsmiles up at me sweetly, and it does nothing to kill off my boner.

“Ihave two questions.One:Whyare you sleeping here?Two:Whathappened?”Ibrush away her bangs to inspect her head.Luckilythe cut isn’t deep enough to need stitches or urgent care.

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