“Actually, to tell you the truth, I’m getting somewhat used to it.”
Oh, he was so self-deprecating, so charming. How was I expected to fight this attraction? It was just cruel—torturous. Quinn took my obvious inner turmoil as his cue to push for the outcome he desired. “Come on… stop stalling. You know you want to spend the day with me.”
Was there any debate? Of course I wanted him… uh, to spend the day with him. I mean, what girl didn’t love a guy who challenged her, drew her into debate… Wait, exactly what were we debating—his sexiness? If that were the case, he’d win that argument hands down. There was something so endearing in his approach. He didn’t need to play games to win me over. He simply conquered through directness and honesty. And by doing that, he made me want to hand him that victory. Jess of yore would’ve jumped at the chance. Hell, she’d already be in his lap by now. She was fearless and fun and sexy. She lived like there was no tomorrow… until tomorrow came calling and delivered her an ultimatum: repent or risk losing it all.
And that was when responsible Jess was born, the good girl who paid her rent and watered her plants and put others before herself. Old Jess grew to admire new Jess. The new, improved version of myself represented stability and a roof overhead. But sometimes… sometimes I missed that reckless girl. Wild Jess. God, she’d been so fun.
“That bullish charm is not going to work on me, Quinn,” I said, feigning disinterest. “So, why don’t you just go ahead and cross me off that list of women who fall all over you the minute you show them any interest.”
“Okay, sure,” Quinn agreed playfully. “I’ll do that. Let me get my pad and pencil.”
He reached into his bag and pulled out imaginary writing supplies. Mesmerized by his easy charm, I watched as he fake-scribbled on his make-believe paper, all the while swiping wayward strands of hair from his eyes. I was instantly reminded of an iconic movie and a young Leonardo with a sketch pad.
It had been a long while since I’d met a man so… alive.
“What’s your name?” he asked again, fake pencil poised at the ready.
I narrowed my gaze.
“What?” His smile widened. “How can I cross it off my list if I don’t know what it is?”
My name dangled on the edge of my tongue, begging to be spoken. What would be the harm? I actually had the week off from responsibility, so technically nothing was holding me back. One mindless afternoon of fun. Surely I could spare that for a future rock legend. Besides, no one had to know. I could bring old Jess back for just one day. And as my mouth watered in anticipation, the words unexpectedly slipped off my tongue.
“My name is Jess.”
“Nice.” He nodded, his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he wrote my name down on his pretend pad of paper. “Is that short for Jessica?”
I smiled. This was all so easy for him. This straightforward seduction. “Jesse, actually. I dropped the ‘e.’”
“Jess-e,” Quinn said, savoring the last vowel. He repeated my name a few times, trying it on for size.
“Jess, actually. Just Jess.”
He smiled that disarming smile of his, the one that said he would call me what he’d like and I’d love it. “Last name, please. For alphabetical purposes only.”
“Just write ‘Jess, the getaway girl.’ That should be enough to remember me by.”
He raised a brow. “Ah, being mysterious, eh? I like it.”
Oh, man. Where did I sign? This guy was female catnip. The minute he’d set his sights on me, I was done for. In fact, I’d never had a chance. If Quinn’s looks weren’t enough to complete the savory dish, he was served with a big ol’ helping of charisma and a slippery side of sex. I knew what I was getting myself into. Quinn was all over the place, and he’d drag me along for the ride. It would be fun. It would be wild. And I would feel free. All the things I’d promised to never be again.
Sorry, responsible Jess. I really tried.
When a smile sprang to my face, Quinn knew he’d won.
5
Quinn: The End Pieces
It was almost too easy.
Jess had fallen right in line, just as I knew she would. Who needed a famous last name or decent threads—or a job—when even aimless losers could score the girl?
The girl.
I glanced over at Jess. My smile faded. Oh, shit. I’d just picked up my RYde driver. Was that bad? It suddenly felt…wrong. Was I leading this girl on, when I had no intention of extending our playdate past midnight? No offense against Jess. She was a cool girl, but I’d recently come out of a short-lived relationship with human Saran Wrap and wasn’t eager to get myself wound up in that sticky shit again. Not that there was any evidence that Jess was already planning on changing her personal pronoun fromItowe, but then again, I’d just met her—in a car—so how could I know if she had a tendency to smother?
“You all right there, Hollywood?” Jess asked, seemingly reading my distress. “You’re lookin’ a bit nauseous.”
