Chasing Me (Quinn and James 2)

"Better opportunity for him. He's settling in, but it wouldn't be a bad idea to offer to show him around. Hard to be in a new city."

"We'll see. I don't want to get too personal if he's going to be my boss."

I saw the calculated gleam in my father's eyes and knew what was going on. He didn't like James, and wanted to see me with a man he believed to be more my type. "Being nice and perhaps becoming friends isn't a big deal. Think about it. He seemed to like you."

"Dad. I love James."

He waved a hand in the air. "Sure. Where is he tonight?"

"At the cafe."

My father didn't respond for a few moments. "Quinn, did you ever really think of what could happen to you two if this art thing doesn't work? He has no education. No skills. He's almost twenty-five. What type of future do you plan on?"

My heart beat, but I remained calm. "A future together is all I want. He'll succeed because he's amazing, and I believe in him. Now, I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Fine by me. Let's grab a bite to eat."

We stopped and chatted a bit with the other attendees, but my father's words kept flashing in irritating neon. We'd only been together about eight months, and lived for the moment. Sure, we were deliriously happy, but would we have to start thinking seriously past the moment and make hard decisions? Were we ready to handle the hard stuff, beyond our connection, and make it work?

Yes. Because our love was special and real. As my father said, life wasn't supposed to be easy, but if we were committed to each other and worked hard, everything would work out.

Chapter Six

JAMES

"JAMES! WHERE'S THE cafe mocha latte with skim?"

"Coming!" I ground my teeth together, wiping down the disgusting tables with a rag, then hurried back behind the counter. The fucking beast machine with its intimidating silver sheen, dials galore, and burning steam that had already torn some of my skin off, mocked me, waiting to screw with me for the millionth time.

Joe's was wildly popular with the college crowd, who were both low tippers and slobs, the worst combination. It had taken me a while to get into the routine of working coffee, and I gotta admit I had it all wrong. Trust me, being behind the counter is a different experience. I remember how many times I'd waltz in, order a bunch of designer coffees, complain about the wait, and stroll out without another thought.

Karma was a bitch.

I grabbed the cup, wiped my sweaty brow with the back of my arm, and began working the bitch machine, trying to get the steps right without visiting the hospital with second-degree burns. I got this one right, though the foam was low, but I threw a lid over it and got it to the guy in the leather coat with his designer glasses. His gaze flicked over me like I was an uninteresting insect, and he flipped his change into the big glass jar that read WE LOVE TIPS. The few quarters clinked against the sides and fell into the mostly empty jar. He wore Italian gloves, a cashmere scarf, and smelled of Clive Christian cologne. Bastard.

My temper inched a few levels higher, but I swore to keep it together. Reality sucked, but I needed to think of the big picture. Get into the art show, make some contacts, and get the hell out of this dead-end job. Check.

The next hour flew as I made coffee, cleaned tables, and heated up pieces of quiche, placing a sprig of parsley on it in an effort to make it look gourmet. My pansy T-shirt marking me a proud Joe's employee stuck to my chest. The shop was stuffy and hot, and being around the endless steam didn't help my smell. I wondered how Quinn was enjoying her night.

"James Hunt!"

I turned at the sound of a familiar voice. My heart sank to hell itself when I stared into my old friend's face. "Rich? What the hell are you doing here?"

Rich and Adam had been my best buddies for most of my life. We grew up together with our rich parents, tearing through our trust funds and traveling the world spending our money. Rich had been with me in Key West when I first met Quinn, and bet me I couldn't bed her within the week. When I came clean and chose her, Adam and Rich weren't too happy about my decision, and we had a huge fallout. Hadn't talked since. I had to admit I didn't miss them much, either. Distance made me realize what assholes they were, and how I became one of them when we hung together. I hated who I became with them, and rarely gave them much thought.

Rich's gaze flicked over my dirty T-shirt, sweaty face, and hands holding a cup of coffee. A vicious delight gleamed in his dark eyes, and I knew I was about to get shit. "I flew in to attend the museum banquet. Dad's on the board, and you know how he likes to keep up appearances." His lip curled. "Speaking of appearances, is this what love brought you to, buddy? Adam and I were wondering why we haven't seen you around. Now I know why. We prefer the country clubs and the party scene. Not the coffee shops."

I rolled my eyes, trying to act cool though I wanted to punch him in the mouth. "Whatever, dude. Take your shot, but you'll still be the asshole in the end."

He laughed. "Still arrogant, huh? Always were. It's nice to see you come down a level or two. Hey, maybe you and Quinn will get married. Get a little apartment together. You can work the coffee shop, she can waitress, and you'll live happy ever after. Eat mac and cheese, pop out a few brats, and wake up one day ready to blow your brains out. Sound good?"

I lowered my voice. "Fuck you. You never cared about anyone but yourself. You use people, have no real friends, and wouldn't know something real if it bit you in the ass."

He smirked. "Yet I'm still rich and happy. And you're not."

I held back, trying to breathe, when one of the other servers came over. "You being helped, sir?"

Rich grinned. "Not yet. I want a caramel macchiato with skim, no whip. I'd like this man to take my order, please."

"Of course." The server walked away, giving us an odd look, and I realized Rich would win this round no matter what. He'd caught me at my lowest, and it didn't matter if I had gotten the girl. I pictured him calling Adam, them having a few good laughs at my expense and gossiping about me to the rest of their crew until it got back to my parents.

Fuck it. Fuck them. All of them.

/> The old me would've shot over the counter and pounded his face. The new me turned away, went to the machine, and got his order. I slid it over the counter, keeping my face expressionless. "That'll be $4.57," I recited.

Rich gave me a five. "Keep the change, buddy. Maybe that'll help you out. You and your noble intentions."

His laugh mocked me as he turned and strode out without a backward glance. I tried to push him to the back of my mind and finish my shift, reminding myself I was the one who was happy with my new life.

But his words still burned like a rash I couldn't get rid of.

When I got to my crappy apartment, I showered and texted Quinn I was home. The quiet was conductive to brooding, so I sat and waited for her to answer me, but when a few minutes went by I knew she'd fallen asleep. I went to the small dorm-type refrigerator, cracked open a Coors Light, and drank.

I thought of Rich laughing with Adam and telling his father how far James Hunt had fallen. I'm sure my parents would catch wind of my new job skills, and call with a humiliated command to use my damn trust fund and go back to Florida where I belonged.

But I didn't belong there anymore. I didn't belong anywhere.

Except with Quinn.

I finished my beer, grabbed my phone and keys, and headed back out the door. Toward her apartment. Head tucked against the needle-like wind, I reached her place in record time, slid my key into the lock, and let myself in.

She was asleep in the bed. One leg tangled in the sheets, dark hair spilling over the white pillow, little snores that she swore she never did emitting from her lips. My gut twisted, and I slowly took off my clothes, climbing into bed with her. She was warm and smelled clean and pure, and my dick hardened to get inside of her and forget everything but what she made me feel. I woke her slowly, my mouth sipping her at her plump lips, until she gave a catchy moan that got me more aroused, and I delved deep into her mouth, savoring her taste.

She arched, entwined her arms behind my head, and gave it all back. Completely surrendering to me, even in sleep. I felt bigger than fucking Superman, and a bit of my control broke. I got rougher, stronger, pinning her to the mattress and parting her thighs, rocking my erection between her legs. I was ready to surge inside and bury myself deep.