Hope on the Rocks (Rainbow Cove)

“I try,” I said, although sometimes I got damn tired of always being the good guy. A less noble man would lead Quinn’s sweetness down the inevitable path to one of those bad choices he seemed so determined to make.

“You always seemed so intimidating. Big and brooding.” His dreamy tone made me sound like the cover of some book, and I suppressed a laugh. “But you’re not so scary up close.”

I’d heard that a time or twenty. I was tall and broad, and my beard added something to my look, but I was far more teddy bear than badass. “Nice gets more tips than scary.”

“Ha. You’re not fake-nice simply to get better tips. Trust me. I’d know.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” I said mildly.

Even when he wasn’t three sheets to the wind, Quinn was the sort of person who always saw the best in others. He wouldn’t know he was being used until it was too late. The same innate goodness that surely made him a great doctor also made him vulnerable and made me rage-y toward anyone who would take advantage.

“And hot as you are, you’d get tips, regardless.” He continued to look at me like I was a steak sandwich and he’d only now realized he hadn’t eaten in a month.

“I’m hot?” I raised an eyebrow. “Exactly how drunk are you?”

“Oops.” He turned the prettiest shade of pink. “Didn’t mean to say that aloud.”

“It’s okay. I won’t hold it against you.” I smiled but dialed back my earlier flirting. This was the part where I had to be the good guy, point out that he was in no condition to make a pass at me, even if it would be too damn easy to encourage Quinn.

“I should probably go.” He fumbled around for his wallet and presented his card with clumsy fingers. Yeah, he’d passed toasted, and no way was he up to walking back to wherever his house or apartment was.

“It’s raining. Hang tight, and I’ll give you a lift. That will probably be faster than trying to find a ride on one of the apps.” Rainbow Cove had a couple of drivers for the various taxi apps, but even during tourist season, coverage could be spotty at best. Besides, I was probably the safer option. Not everyone would share my desire to take care of Quinn. Plenty of users in this world. I’d rest easier knowing he was safely back where he belonged.

To that end, I hurried through my closing tasks so I could hustle Quinn out the door. My Chevy was parked behind the tavern. As I steered Quinn toward it, I eyed the beat-to-hell pickup and remembered that the cab was stuffed with tools and spare clothes. I probably needed to upgrade my wheels, but I’d sunk what little I’d had into the tavern with Mason and Logan. The place was on better footing these days, but I also had a stubborn attachment to my aging ride.

“Are you taking me home?” Quinn didn’t seem to care about dents or messes as he stared up at me. He touched my arm when I tried to move so he could get in the truck. I’d tried hard all night to avoid touching him, even something as simple as brushing his hand when handing him a glass. Somehow, I’d known, yet the electricity still took me by surprise, that zap that made every damn cell in my body take notice.

“To your place, yes.” That I managed to speak at all was a feat, especially with his hand still on my forearm. His grip was warm and strong, and I wanted to let his long, elegant fingers roam wherever they wanted.

“Good.” He gave me a look that would have been way more seductive two drinks ago. “You can come up with me. For…something.”

His tipsy giggle was the push I needed to break free from his touch. I gently steered him into the passenger seat and buckled him up before heading to the driver’s side. Taking care of him felt as satisfying as the earlier flirting had, a different sort of warmth, but potent nonetheless.

“I’m taking you to your house. Where you will sleep this off.” We needed to get clear on that in a hurry. “Now, what’s the address?”

“Maybe I’m not ready for bed.” Reaching across the console, he danced fingers up my arm.

“Yeah, you are.” I removed his hand and returned it to his lap before putting the truck in gear. The sooner we headed to his place, the better. There was only so much temptation a guy could take.

“Look at you all stern and sexy.”

I liked the compliment far more than I should have, liked the awe in his voice enough to keep the stern tone going. “How about you behave and tell me where we’re going?”

“But being naughty feels so much better.” He wiggled in the seat, making me glad I’d seen to his seatbelt myself. “Perhaps I need to be bad more often.”