Summer Love by Piper Rayne

Chapter One

Quinn Ellison entered the revolving door, eager to get home and finish the book she’d started last night. She’d pour herself a cold glass of wine, put on her soft bunny slippers…she smiled when she thought of her roommate’s dog making off with one of them. One look at the plush white fur, and he went nuts. She’d just have to distract him with his favorite treats. He gobbled those things up. So cute.

The minute the door tossed her out onto Fifty-Second Street, she breathed in the cool, fresh June air. Okay, it was New York City. There was nothing fresh about it, but after ten hours in an office, this former mountain girl welcomed being outside.

I need my bus card. Digging into the side pocket of her purse, she slammed into a wall of heat and heard, “Watch it.”

That voice—it was as familiar to her as her own. Her stomach wrenched into a knot.

“Quinn.” Bradley Whitfield III sounded almost horrified.

Though they worked in the same skyscraper office building, she hadn’t bumped into her ex-husband even once since they’d divorced a few months ago. They’d only spoken through attorneys.

Tan, fit, he reeked of success in his two-thousand-dollar suit and thirty-five-thousand-dollar watch.

Dashing. That’s the only word to describe him.

The word, Hello, formed in her throat, but she got a whiff of Chanel No. 5 and froze. Her brain seized. She stood like a fish gasping on a dock.

Because her ex’s mistress had her arm linked through his, her other hand clutching her swollen belly.

She’s pregnant.

He got her pregnant.

That’s why he divorced me. Blood thumped in her ears, and her hands shook so badly she had to lower them to her side and grab fistfuls of her cheap summer dress.

The sidewalk seemed to bob like a dinghy on the ocean, making her seasick.

“It’s nice to see you, Quinn.” In spite of his efforts to sound haughty—a trait handed down by every Whitfield ever—his voice quavered a little.

In an echo chamber somewhere inside her brain, a voice called out for her to speak, to act normal, but the motor neurons weren’t responding.

“How are you?” the mistress asked, her tone drenched in pity.

And that was all it took for Quinn to snap out of it— ugliness from the woman who’d stolen her life. “I’m barely making ends meet, I’m working a job that’s slowly dissolving my soul, and I’m sharing a six-hundred-square-foot apartment with a woman who thinks showers are optional, but I’m not fucking someone else’s husband, and I’m living life on my own terms, so I call that a win.” Done with them, she started for the bus stop.

But a strong arm wrapped around her, tugging her close to a hard, powerful body. “Hey, babe. You look beautiful.”

Enveloped in the scents of clean clothes and expensive shaving cream, Quinn gazed up—and up—to take in Matteo Candella, her ex-husband’s most important client, and the highest paid defensive end in the NFL.

The sexy athlete kissed her cheek, and no one would question the affection in his eyes. Holding her close, he gave a curt nod to her ex. “Brad.”

In that surreal moment, Quinn noticed two things. Matteo didn’t shake his agent’s hand, and he didn’t acknowledge the mistress. A rush of warmth pierced the bubble of shock, and gratitude flooded her.

She’d been achingly alone these past several months. Her life had flipped upside down—she’d gone from being married and having a very active social life to living with a stranger and working an entry level job in a new and unbearably boring field.

“Matteo, man. You’re right on time.” Bradley looked between them, as though trying to make sense of his ex-wife dating his number one client without his knowledge. “Walk with me to the office.”

Good. Now, she could flee. Bus card in hand, she moved to get away, but Matteo tightened his hold.

“Yeah, sorry, man. Change of plans. Me and my girl have a thing tonight. I’m going to have to reschedule.” In a slow, sensual move, he lifted the hair off her shoulder and gently smoothed it down her back.

And when he pressed his warm lips to the curve of her neck, goosebumps skittered down her arms.

It felt so obscenely good, Quinn shuddered. She hadn’t been touched like that in years.

And she craved it.

“You sure?” Underlying his confident tone, Bradley radiated an anxious energy. “Contracts are on my desk, ready to sign.”

Matteo gave him a hard look. “Positive.”

“There’s a lot of money on the table.” A shadow of fear crossed her ex’s features. “Aren’t you heading to Wyoming for the summer?”

“I leave in the morning.”

Bradley stuttered out an uncomfortable laugh. “Sounds like we need to get those babies signed.”

“I’ll be in touch.” With a curt nod, Matteo led her to his silver Mercedes AMG parked right at the curb.

When he opened the passenger door for her, she whispered, “You don’t have to do this. I have no shame about my life. I’m totally okay taking the bus.”

“And we’re going to talk about that. Get in. They’re watching.”

She didn’t want to argue with him in front of her lying, cheating ex, so she slid into the spotlessly clean car that smelled of leather and potent masculinity. Against the gray floor mat, the scuffs on her black flats became glaringly noticeable. She would bet his other passengers had red-soled pumps and enviably long legs. With their sleek, shiny hair, they’d probably worn short skirts and red lipstick.

Quinn had never fit into Bradley’s world—hadn’t wanted to. Born and raised in Calamity, Wyoming, she’d never developed the taste for high fashion or fussy hair and make-up routines. It just wasn’t in her DNA.

Moments later, Matteo was behind the wheel, his strong, impossibly fit body taking up all the space as he pulled into traffic. “Why aren’t you taking money from him?”

“Hello, Matteo. It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

He sighed. “You know me better than that. I say it like it is, and I want to know why you’re taking the bus, when he just bought a place in the Hamptons.”

The stake he drove into her heart brought a sting of tears to her eyes. Not because of the house—she’d never wanted it. Bradley thought he needed it to entertain clients, but she knew it was just another step closer toward becoming his parents.

No, it hurt because he’d moved on so seamlessly. Where she’d been knocked flat on her ass, he looked better than ever.

And he’s having a baby.

Dammit.A single tear trickled down her cheek, carving a path of humiliation. She didn’t want to cry for the bastard who’d betrayed her. “How do you know I didn’t get a big fat divorce settlement?” No way would Bradley tell anyone she hadn’t wanted a single dime from him. “Maybe I’m sitting on a pile of cash, squirreling it away so I can start my own business one day.”

“If you had a pile, you’d be back in Calamity right now.”

The honking, the rush of traffic…it all disappeared, and the world went silent. She was touched that he knew something so important about her. Maybe because she was so alone now, thrust into a world of strangers, but the fact that this man had paid attention…

God, she was an emotional mess.

Braking at the light, he flexed his fingers on the wheel. “It’s not right that you’re living in that shitbox apartment, working as a paralegal.”

“Is that what Bradley told you?” He was such an idiot, always needing her to be more than what she was. “I summarize depositions. One day, if I’m good at what I do, I’ll get a promotion.”

He shook his head, like he refused to accept it. “You’re an interior designer. You get off on color and texture and…” He flapped his hand, as if struggling to find the right words. “Design shit.”

I do. This time she looked at him—unable to believe how much he’d picked up about her over the years—and his profile made her catch her breath. The strong jaw, the thick, black hair that always looked like someone had run her fingers through it.

He’d rolled his cuffs and shoved them up to his elbows, revealing muscular, tan forearms.

Would you snap out of it?He’s Bradley’s client. “That may be true, but I couldn’t even afford the ‘shitbox’ on the salary of an entry level interior designer here.”

“But you two had a deal. You put off building your career so he could launch his. Well, you did it, you got him there, and now it’s your turn.” He cut her a look. “He owes you.”

“The only thing I wanted from him was love. And trust. Without either of those…I don’t want a damn thing.” And you know what? She didn’t appreciate Matteo’s judgment. “Look, my life took a turn, and I swerved. New York’s an expensive place to live, and I’m doing the best I can.” She couldn’t wait to get to her apartment, make dinner, and get lost in a book.

She didn’t need these reminders of the current state of her life. She was rebuilding, and screw anyone who didn’t get her choices.

He reached for her hand, clasping it in a reassuring squeeze, and it snapped her out of her dark mood. In his eyes, she saw…admiration.

“You miss him?” he asked.

“I don’t miss the man he’s become.” After he signed you, his first big client. “I miss the life we’d once believed in. He used to love visiting my family, and we had this dream that we’d work our asses off, save our money, and then retire in Calamity. We wanted to raise our kids in the mountains. But instead, as soon as he started to make money—”

“He started buying things.”

She looked down at her ringless fingers. “Like that stupid wedding ring.”

“The upgrade.”

With his first bonus, Bradley had bought her a three-carat diamond to replace the tiny Montana sapphire he’d slid on her finger during the ceremony. When they’d met, he’d been rebelling from his wealthy family. Instead of going to Princeton like all the other Whitfords, he’d chosen Cornell, where they’d met. “I hated it.”

“You like simple jewelry. Pretty, delicate.”

What a funny thing for him to notice about her. “Exactly.” He’d never revealed any of these things before, this awareness of her, and it sweetened the well of bitterness that lived inside her. “You really don’t need to drive me. Those endorsement contracts aren’t going to sign themselves.”

“I’m driving you.”

“You’re always such an easy-going guy. I’m not used to seeing you so snarly.”

“I’m not snarly. I’m pissed at him for being a scumbag. I had a lot of agents coming after me, and the only reason I chose him was because of you.” Someone cut him off, and he stomped on the brake. Strong, corded thigh muscles flexed beneath his jeans.

“Me? What did I have to do with it?”

“He was like all the other smooth-talking agents, trying to flatter me, making promises. The difference was that he was happily married to a down-to-earth”—he shot her a look with that deeply dimpled grin of his—“and smoking hot wife. You’re one of those wonder women, like my mama. You work full-time but have enough energy left over to take care of the people you love.” His smile faded. “And now he’s just another cheating scumbag.”

“But he’s good at what he does.” Why am I defending him? “He got you some good deals.”

“If he’ll cheat on his wife, he’ll fuck anyone over.”

It shouldn’t have landed so squarely in her righteous heart, but it did. “Well, I can’t argue with that.” She’d never wanted to climb on someone’s lap and hug them as much as she did in this moment.

Thank you for getting me.

Just…thank you.

Except she didn’t want to stop there. No, she wanted to kiss his wide, sensuous mouth. The man was always smiling. It would be like tasting happiness.

“I like what you said to the sidepiece, that at least you’re not fucking someone’s husband, that you’re living life on your own terms.” Eyes on the road, he chuckled. “You’re a badass, Quinn Ellison.” His smile softened. “I’ve missed you.” It came out so warmly, she believed him.

She’d been close with all of Bradley’s colleagues and clients. Many of them had used their apartment as a crash pad, and she’d fed them, hung out with them…she really missed the companionship. It had been ripped from her so abruptly, she hadn’t quite adjusted to it. “I’ve missed all of you, too.”

“I don’t mean it in a generic way. I mean you. I miss you.” He watched the road, traffic thick. “You’re real, you’re smart. You’re good in here.” He tapped his chest.

“I’m guessing Kristina isn’t the warmest hostess?”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t hung out with them since you moved out.”

That shouldn’t feel like a victory.

But it did.

She had to slide her hand under her thigh to keep from touching him. In gratitude, of course. Nothing more. “I noticed you didn’t acknowledge her.”

“Look, I probably shouldn’t say anything. I haven’t talked to you since the Superbowl, but you should know…lots of people saw it go down. She didn’t even try to hide it.”

“What do you mean?”

“One of the guys showed up at his office to go over contracts and saw her in there with him.”

“What did he see?”

“He saw her rubbing her tits all over him, bending over, ass in the air. Touching him, laughing at everything he said.”

“And Bradley?”

“Far as I know, at that point at least, he didn’t give her the time of day.”

Oh. She wasn’t expecting that. “So, when did it change?” It helped to know he’d at least tried to be faithful.

“No idea. I just know she’d been working him for a long time.”

A light went off in her head. “You don’t think she got herself pregnant, do you? Intentionally?”

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t put it past her.”

The idea made her sick. “Okay, let’s stop talking about it.” She’d spent months sorting through every moment of the last couple of years, looking for clues, things Bradley might’ve said, places he’d said he was going. “I’ve given the whole thing enough of my energy. I don’t care anymore. He’s changed. That’s not the man I married.”

In college, Bradley was on track to play professional baseball. When he threw out his shoulder, he decided to become a sports agent. He’d already had some connections in New York, so that’s where they’d gone. For a couple of years, they’d loved each other hard, exploring the city, laughing at this crazy, new world. United in a common goal, they’d barely noticed their struggle to make ends meet.

But then…he’d started making big money, and all those family values he’d repudiated suddenly became his guiding principles. He’d started buying things, going out to the cool clubs.

And then he’d asked for a divorce.

And the future she’d wholeheartedly believed in had crashed and burned.

“Fine. We won’t talk about the sidepiece but let me just say this. You were an equity investor in his business, and now it’s his turn to invest in yours. Instead of buying a house in the Hamptons or a diamond ring—that money should go to you.”

She turned towards him. “Let me ask you something. Step into my buy-one-get-one-free flats for a minute. If your wife made ten times as much as you, but she cheated, got pregnant with another man’s baby—”

He winced, raising a hand to stop her. “I get it. I wouldn’t take a fucking dime.” Focused on jockeying through traffic, his lips pulled into a taut line. “Okay, then, why stay here? If your end-goal is to go home, what’s for you in the city?”

“The earning potential is higher here. Besides, there’s not a lot of opportunity for interior designers in Calamity.” Though, the very idea of going home made her soul rise up and clap its hands like a congregant listening to a rousing gospel song.

“With all the celebrities and wealthy residents? That surprises me.”

Every cell in her body strained to listen, desperate for him to have a real solution. “Right, and a lot of them bring their own designers in from New York, LA…Chicago. I mean, I’m not disagreeing with you. There is a lot of wealth, even though it’s a small town. Calamity has some amazing designers, but there’s just not enough work for me to set up shop there and hope I can make a career of it.”

Looking contemplative, he rubbed a finger over his lip. “Look, some of the guys and I bought a place.”

“In Calamity?”

“Yeah. You know I’ve been coaching at Cassian’s football camp for years, and I like it there.” He shrugged. “The house needs a lot of work.”

“Matteo, I would love to design it, but you can’t invent a job for me. I’m looking to build a future for myself—and that means I have to live where there’s opportunity.”

“It’s not just a house. It’s a ranch, and the place is outdated. You could live there while we’re renovating it.”

“You bought a ranch?”

“Yeah, and if we hire you—a bunch of high-profile guys renovating a big spread in Calamity—it could jumpstart your career there. We could document the transformation on social media, get some press. You could establish a name for yourself.”

“Oh, I see where you’re going with this.” And she loved it. Her creative juices started flowing, and she hadn’t even seen the place. Didn’t matter, in her mind she was already walking down antique store aisles.

She’d been dreaming of designing a ranch house her entire life. “I love it.”

“So, what do you say? You want to design the place?”

Yes. “Don’t you need to confer with the other guys?”

“Nah, they’ll agree with me.” He gave her a smile filled with promise. “I found the right person.”