Terry added in a singsong voice, “With crème brûlée for dessert.”
Oh, damn. I freaking loved crème brûlée. I was not about to say no to that menu. I’d be crazy to! I smiled. “Anything you want me to bring?”
Terry looked downright horrified at the idea and slapped my arm to let me know. “No! You’re our guest, Mia.”
“I’ll be there. What time?”
Terry had already dragged Bill down the hall. He called out, “Eight p.m., sharp,” with a backwards wave. Bill smiled and shrugged. I supposed he was used to this.
I shook my head at the hurricane that was Terry, then unlocked my apartment, dropped my things on my bed, and showered. I sang my little heart out in that shower with my own special Spice Girls mash-up, still partly mad at Ginger for leaving the group. When I sang so hard that I was certain I should’ve been the sixth member of the band, I turned off the water and dried myself lazily, dropping my towel to the floor.
My bedroom window was open, so I made a nudie run to the blinds and closed them before lying naked on my bed in my own form of meditation. There was something empowering about being stripped bare. In all my flawed glory, I was comfortable. And that made me happy. Happy was all I ever wanted to be, and for the first time ever, I really was.
The blue light on my cell was blinking. I lifted it with a frown to find three new messages. I read them wide-eyed and confused.
Quinn: Pink, blue, or yellow?
Quinn: …for the rubber duck, that is.
Quinn: Never mind, I got ‘em all. I don’t like the idea of you just having one. They need company.
Laughter burst out of me, shaking my entire body. My jiggly bits jiggled, and that didn’t bother me a bit.
Me: Good call. I’ve heard stories of depressed rubber ducks drowning themselves in their manic state. If only those ducks had a duck homie to shoot the breeze with. Tragic.
Before I even managed to put my phone down, it chimed in my hand.
Quinn: Oh, you make fun now, but I bet my duck you’ll love ‘em.
My fingers typed the exact thing I was thinking.
Me: Quack.
I hadn’t expecting the response I got.
Quinn: So…can I call you?
I sat up with a jolt. I blinked down at the message then swallowed hard. No. I wasn’t ready for this. My fingers typed slowly, carefully. I clicked send and closed my eyes.
Me: …okay.
The phone started to ring almost instantly, and I panicked. I stared down at it as it rang, and let it ring till it rang out.
Shit.
Quinn: Okay, I get it. You said I could call. You didn’t say you’d answer. Clever little kitten.
My heart was racing, my skin had flushed, and I had to get over this. I was going to lose my virginity to this man, and I couldn’t even talk to him? Lord, I was pathetic.
Me: If you call again, I’ll answer. Scout’s honor.
My phone rang once more; this time I answered right away. My voice sounded soft. Too soft. “Hello?”
I heard a smile through that deep, manly voice. “Maya?”
My eyes closed of their own accord and I forced my voice louder. “Hi, Quinn.”
He chuckled low and rough, and it felt like a caress all over my body. “Hi, yourself. Why didn’t you answer your phone? You won’t let me see you before our appointment, so the least you could do is talk to me.”
A blush rose in my cheeks. He wasn’t scalding me. I knew he was only teasing, but I still felt like a fifteen-year-old girl talking to the high school quarterback. I slapped my forehead and groaned. “Ugh, I know. I’m sorry. I get weird around men. I panicked.”
The amused lilt in his voice disappeared and was replaced with a tinge of concern. “Tell me about that. Did you have a bad experience with a man? Did someone hurt you?”
His voice was so gentle and full of care that I found myself smiling softly. “No, nothing like that. It’s sort of something that’s always happened with me. Men would try to talk to me, and mid-conversation, I’d walk away, because I couldn’t respond. It’s sort of like having a major brain-fart.”
He laughed then, and I smiled hard. He uttered, “I can understand that. I’ve had a brain-fart a time or two before.” He paused a moment then asked cautiously, “How do you feel talking to me?”
It was my turn to pause. I lifted my head in thought before responding through a sigh, “This is probably going to sound weird, and I apologize in advance for that, but I kind of feel like I’m talking to a friend.”
His reply was sincere. “We are friends. At least, I’d like to be friends. You got room for one more?”
Smiling so hard my cheeks felt like they were on the verge of splitting, I answered gently, “Always got room for another friend.”
His voice had softened. “Me too, Maya. Me too.” Then his voice turned husky. “Can you do something for me, Maya?”
I blinked at the sudden change of character, and so I stuttered, “Uh, sh-sh-sure.”
Amusement lined his voice. “Quack for me, baby.”
Chapter Eleven
Quinn
Harry threw the football and, distracted as I was, it flew by my head and into the sand behind me.
Every now and again, Harry and I would workout on the beach in front of my apartment block. Being a Saturday, he didn’t have work and it was perfect weather for a light game of catch. Harry was always complaining that being cooped up in the office all day, he didn’t have the energy to workout. He wasn’t loving the few pounds he’d put on, so I was helping him get back in shape. And by helping, I meant I pushed him hard, then pushed even harder. I pushed and pushed till he wanted to beat me to a bloody pulp.
What could I say? I was a good friend.
I ran for the ball, caught it, and then threw long. Harry grabbed it then passed it back. I managed to catch it that time.
Silence hadn’t always bothered me, but recently, I found myself craving conversation rather tha
n being lost in my thoughts. I needed to fill the hush with something quickly before my mind started doing its thing. “When’s the last time you got laid, Old Mother Hubbard?”
A personal question, I know, but Harry could handle it. We were close, and both having been in the escort business, we had the impression that sex was natural and fun, as long as both parties consented.
In total Harry fashion, he smirked. “Last night. Why? You know someone?”
Hurling the ball, I huffed out a laugh. “Someone who’d put up with your sulking ass? No. I’d never punish a girl like that. Not one I liked anyways.”
He scowled and caught the ball then threw it back. Hard. “Asshole.”
I laughed, shaking off the pain in my hands from catching the quick ball. “I guess I wanted to make sure your beef and bean burrito isn’t shriveling up like a prune.”
Harry pointed at me while staring me down. “My beef and bean burrito is still tasty as fuck, thank you very much.”
I pitched the ball, muttering, “I’ll have to take your word for it, bro.”
Harry looked as though he wanted to say something, and never being one to beat around the bush, he asked a nonchalant, “So, you cancel things with that client?”
I stood, panting a moment, then shook my head, throwing the ball. “Nope.”
He caught the ball and held it between the side of his body and the crook of his elbow. “You’re asking for trouble, dude.”
Harry never irritated me, but I was irritated right then. “Why? Because you had a bad experience? Doesn’t mean it’ll happen to me.”
He eyed me good. “And if it does?”
Waves crashing on the shore sounded in the background, a normally soothing sound. It wasn’t soothing me today. My jaw ticked. “Then I’ll take care of it.”
Harry shook his head. “I’m just looking out for you. Don’t want you to make the same mistake I did.”
Nope. This conversation was over. “You gonna throw the ball or what?”