When I realized they weren’t going to change from the fake fucks they were, I had to. I’d stopped my self-destructive ways and enlisted. That got my ass in gear.
I heard the shower shut off, but Taft didn’t seem to notice. Or care.
Which was good because I didn’t want to punch his face in for even thinking about Quincy as anything but a teammate and pilot.
Not that I was supposed to, either.
He set the carton back in the fridge, the door slapping shut behind him. “You coming? We got PT to push through.”
I gave him a middle finger salute, then worked my way through my coffee. “I’ll be there in ten.” Before Quincy came, I was always the first out the door in the mornings, but now I found myself lingering, unwilling to leave any building in which Quincy was naked.
I doubted Hayes was in his room. He usually spent his nights at his girl’s place in town. Megan was one of the sheriff’s deputies and had a sweet little house near the station. I didn’t blame him for wanting to stay there. There was no question they were hitting it hot and heavy and didn’t want an audience.
I was thrilled with that. No reason to listen to others getting off when I wasn’t getting any.
Leaning against the counter, I worked through my brew.
A few minutes later, Quincy’s door opened. She came out in a pair of leggings which did nothing to hide her toned legs. Or tight ass.
She stopped short at the sight of me.
“Morning,” I said.
“I’m surprised you’re here,” she replied. She was braiding her hair into a long tail even though it was wet.
I arched a brow. “Oh?”
“Figured you’d be in the redhead’s bed.”
She was referring to the waitress who’d come onto me last night. We’d gone to dinner in town as a group for Indi’s birthday. While she was pretty and eager, I didn’t touch the woman, only flirted. Not that Quincy needed to know that. She didn’t want me, my sex life, or lack thereof, and it was none of her business. Besides, the last thing I wanted her to know was that I was pining for her like a teenage boy with his first crush and first hard-on. It was better for her to think I wasn’t affected. “I don’t linger, sweets.”
She rolled her eyes at the name, one I started calling her after I got a taste of her that long ago afternoon.
“Not your sweets. And I’m all too familiar with your fuck ‘em and leave ‘em routine.”
A routine? Yeah, well… I was known as a player. A man whore. Whatever.
The reputation meant I was safe from any woman wanting seconds.
That meant attachment, and I didn’t do strings. Except I wanted strings and seconds with her. But since she didn’t want it in return, I had my pride.
I only shrugged, which made her huff.
She turned and her long braid whipped over her shoulder.
“You’re the one who doesn’t want repeats,” I reminded.
She glared. “I don’t do sloppy seconds.”
“See you out there,” I called, gritting my teeth. She didn’t want me, that was fine. But I wasn’t going to have her think I was pining for her. Even though I fucking was.
She bent down, her ass in the air for a brief moment, as she grabbed her flip flops which were on the shoe rack by the door. We all agreed the bunkhouse was a no-shoe zone.
“Nah. I’m headed with Mrs. L to yoga. We’re meeting the others for the class at six.”
The others were probably Indi and Megan. Maybe even Holly from the coffee shop. The ladies were tight, and I was glad for it.
The thought of Quincy doing yoga, bent over, ass in the air, made my cock stir. It also made me think about how flexible she was and how much fun that could be.