Hope on the Rocks by Annabeth Albert

Four

Quinn

“Excuse me, what?” If this were a cartoon, my jaw would have slammed into the table. Forget settling down. Shock gave way to jittery nerves that made my hand shake on my coffee cup. What had I done?

“Boy, you really don’t remember much of last night, do you?” Adam shook his head, all fake sadness and scolding. He seemed to be having great fun with this. “And I guess some of that is on me.”

“You did mix the drinks.” And I did the ordering and the drinking, but right then, I needed something, anything, else to blame.

“I did.” Adam shrugged, completely unperturbed by my attitude. “I didn’t expect you to get blackout drunk, but I clearly underestimated how much of a lightweight you are.”

“I’m not—” I took a breath and considered where I was and why. “Okay, maybe I am.”

“And that’s not all I underestimated.” He regarded me pointedly, eyes half-lidded, expression full of sexy intent.

My stomach fluttered. I’d like that look of his so much more if I wasn’t also swamped with dread.

“What did I say?” Sweat gathered on the small of my back. “Or…do?”

Small snippets came floating back. Flirting. Thank you, Daddy. Oh. Hell. I really had let it all hang out, hadn’t I? Kinky, he’d called it, like it was another conversation topic instead of something I reserved for incognito browser searches, late-night fantasies that no one else was supposed to know about.

And damn all the alcohol. If I’d actually gotten to act on those fantasies and couldn’t remember a darn thing, that was just cruel. An involuntary agonized noise escaped my throat.

“We didn’t do anything. I promise you that.” Adam turned surprisingly serious as he quickly patted my hand again.

“I believe you.” And damn, I was lucky because plenty of guys wouldn’t have an issue with a drunken hookup. But Adam had taken care of me. Even as I’d said ridiculous things.

“Trust me, if we hook up, you’re going to remember it.” The sexy leer was back.

If. The word hung between us. He was teasing, right? Not only did the guy look like he could star in all that porn I pretended not to know about, but he’d seen me at my drunken worst. No way did he want to hook up with me. But on the off chance he was serious, I needed to rejoin the land of responsible decisions, stat.

But being naughty would feel so much better.

“We’re not hooking up.”

“We could.” Shrugging, he polished off the last of his eggs. “But even if we’re not, I’m still curious.”

I bit my lip. I felt unreasonably irked, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of his curiosity about my personal life or the way he’d presented the option of hooking up as casually as he’d recite the beer-on-tap options to a bar customer. “You are rather inquisitive, aren’t you?”

“My sister says I get my nosiness from my mom. It’s what makes me good at what I do. I get people chatting, and I don’t mind listening.”

“And then you take them home? That’s part of the job too?”

“Not usually.” His raised eyebrow reminded me I wasn’t being fair. It was more than evident that Adam was a good guy and not a player. “But last night, you wouldn’t tell me where you live, and I was tired.”

“Sorry. That was rude.”

“It’s okay. Honestly, drunk as you were, it’s probably good you weren’t alone. You needed someone to make you hydrate.” He pointed at my water again, and I obediently took a sip. His answering pleased nod made my belly all warm and reminded me again how foolish it would be to indulge all the yearning he induced.

“Thank you. I feel bad that saving me from the results of drunken idiocy fell to you.” I got along well with my coworkers but didn’t have many non-work friends in town. I’d been in hibernation mode for so long that I’d forgotten what a social life felt like. Adam’s kindness last night was proof that friends were necessary.

“Bad enough to tell me more of your secrets?” He waggled his eyebrows at me.

“I think you got enough details out of me for one morning.” I kept my voice light, but no way was I discussing anything sexual with God’s Gift to Flannel. I already wanted him more than was prudent. Hell, if I were honest, his pull over me wasn’t simply gratitude hormones from the night before. I’d found him compelling the first time I’d seen him at the tavern, and each interaction made him all the more intriguing. Complicating this further would be all kinds of dumb, even if he did seem to be offering the sort of sex I’d only ever dreamed about.

“Suit yourself.” Adam scooped up our plates and took them to the sink. “Guess I better run you home now. You slept late.”

“I never sleep late.”

“You did.” He pointed at a plastic clock over the sink before running water over the dishes. Scooping up keys and wallet from the counter, he turned back to me. “Let’s go. Your shoes are in the bedroom.”

Thank you, Daddy. My first crystal-clear memory of last night arrived—how he’d tenderly removed my shoes. His hands had been so gentle, his hair soft and silky under my fingertips, and I wanted to touch it again. Yearning swept through me, making my chest hurt. I wanted his tenderness, maybe most of all, and that was the thing that scared me the worst.

Needing out of there and away from my own longing, I retrieved my shoes as quickly as I could. We were almost to the door when I stopped.

“Wait. Your shirt—”

Adam waved my concern away. “You can get it back to me some other time. Believe me, you don’t want anything to do with yours right now.”

A massive shudder raced through me. “I can’t believe I let myself get so…messy.”

“Yeah, well, blame it on the drinks I mixed for you.” He rolled his eyes at me before he ushered me out the door.

My steps slowed. I had the strangest urge to ask him to go back inside and have another cup of coffee. My gaze traveled over his muscular back, oak-strong legs, and broad shoulders. His build was one more reason that unloading some of my burdens on him had felt so good. So right.

But that wasn’t fair to him. Simply because he looked the part of the strong lumberjack Daddy didn’t mean he needed all my baggage. And I certainly couldn’t give voice to desires I didn’t entirely understand myself.

“What’s your address?” he asked, tapping on his phone as we stopped beside an old pickup.

I answered him, my gaze on the battered and world-weary-looking truck behind him. With a little work, it would be a classic.

“This is your truck?”

“Yep. Problem?” He slid into the driver’s seat, leaving me to scramble into the passenger side.

“No. Haven’t seen one this old in years. Reminds me of growing up.” I didn’t have to try hard to make my tone warm. I had a genuine appreciation for a good work truck.

“Where are you from?”

“Small town outside of Portland. Plenty of farmers and working folks. I was the odd one out, always studying, more concerned about grades than football.”

“I was the football type.” Adam’s mouth turned down as he backed out of his driveway, part wistful, part grimace.

I wanted to ask him more about his football days. Heck, I wanted to ask him all kinds of things about his life, but it was unfair to demand his life stories when I was trying not to burden him with more of mine.

I kept my voice light and said, “I can imagine you tackling things.”

“Oh, I was skinny back then. Filled out more in my twenties.”

“How old are you now?” I asked. He made twenty sound like ancient history, but even with the beard and large stature, he still seemed younger than me.

“Thirty.” He slid me a meaningful look as we arrived at a stop sign.

That word was hanging between us again. Daddy. He was younger than me by about five years. With his rugged looks and commanding attitude, he could undoubtedly play the Daddy role convincingly, even if he was on the younger side. My libido sure thought so, at least. Daddy. That was the energy I’d first picked up on from him and maybe part of why I’d steered clear.

“I’ll be thirty-five soon,” I reminded myself more than him, another reason why I couldn’t give in to the urge to explore with him, find out exactly what sort of Daddy he was.

“So?” Adam rolled his neck lazily like our age difference was nothing at all. “We’re practically the same age. World of difference between now and twenty if you ask me.”

I groaned my agreement. “You couldn’t pay me to be eighteen again.”

“I hear you. I don’t mind…hanging out with a younger guy on occasion, but legal-to-drink is preferable, even for a hookup.”

“You do a lot of that?” The swift surge of jealousy that made my back tighten was ridiculous. If he wanted to play Daddy to a whole pack of twinks, that wasn’t my business.

“Hook up? Some. Not much else to do around here, and I’m way too busy to date, even if I was so inclined.”

“Ah.” I liked how unflappable he was, how he didn’t let my obviously judgmental questions rile him. It was an admirable quality.

“You’d get over the jerk quicker if you let yourself get a rebound fuck or ten.”

“I’ve tried,” I groaned, voice low from how damn much I wanted to try his unspoken offer to help with that plan. “Not ten. But I tried. It’s been almost two years. I haven’t been celibate.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you need to try harder.” We turned from Lakeview toward downtown. My place was on the other side of town, near the beachfront’s newer developments, and we couldn’t get there soon enough as far as I was concerned. Adam’s very nearness was unsettling, as was the way he represented everything I’d spent years tamping down. Each whiff of his woodsy scent made resisting that much harder.

Spontaneous bad decisions from here on out. Too bad I was sober now and back to careful composure.

“Or try something new in that department?” he suggested next. “Maybe the issue has to do with those kinky secrets of yours.”

“I don’t have kinky secrets,” I lied and wished it were true.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to tell. My friends all think I’m boring as fuck. Vanilla, like I ain’t ever thought about trying other flavors.”

“But you have?” I’d already guessed that, and my traitorous cock was half-hard with wanting to know every sexy detail of those hookups he spoke so easily about. Did the twinks call him Daddy? Did he make them moan and beg? My hands trembled in my lap. I wanted to know it all.

“Now who’s curious?”

“Sorry.” I stared out the window as we passed the little downtown stores and entered the older residential neighborhood closer to the shore.

“Nah, it’s fine. I don’t mind telling you. We started having these monthly leather nights at the Rainbow Tavern. And other events. A certain clientele showed up, if you catch my drift. Got me curious.”

“Thought you didn’t take customers home?” Oops. Forgot I wasn’t supposed to care.

“Jealous?” He laughed. “And no, I haven’t picked up any hookups on leather nights. Too busy tending bar. But I got a lot more adventurous on the apps, what categories I was willing to explore.”

“Good for you.” I suddenly felt like I was back in college—hearing about everyone else’s fun while I was in my dorm, studying.

“Hey, you can explore too, you know. Whatever you had going with the jerk, the dynamic’s probably more common than you think.”

“We weren’t like that.” I couldn’t help my groan. I’d counted our very tepid sex life as a trade-off for a great family situation, but after the relationship imploded, I’d wondered if maybe I should have at least asked for something different. But I wasn’t telling Adam all that.

“Even more reason to experiment.” Somehow Mr. Mind Reader seemed to know anyway. “And I happen to know where you could start.”

God, his grin was so damn tempting and made my cock pulse against my fly. The ocean was on our right, blue and vast, but his eyes were even more compelling than the gorgeous scenery. I was so screwed.

“We’re not hooking up.” I tried to sound like I meant it.

“So you’ve said.” Adam turned into the condo complex where I lived, right near the rocky beachfront. “Anyway, invitation’s open, and I’m not one to blab about what you like in the bedroom.”

An electric tingle raced up my spine. I hadn’t even confirmed his suspicions, but somehow he knew. And I didn’t doubt for a second that he could deliver exactly what I craved. I clearly remembered the first cocktail he’d mixed for me last night. It had satisfied tastebuds I didn’t even know I had. I fixed my gaze on his hands, those long, thick fingers and wide palms, and their easy grip on the steering wheel. I wanted them on me, doing every dirty thing I’d ever dared imagined and more that I hadn’t let myself dream up.

But I never talked about my fantasies, not even to guys I’d been intimate with. I’d always been excellent at resisting temptation, last night’s chocolate martini indulgence notwithstanding. So I called up my best doctor-to-patient manner and said, “I appreciate that.”

“Home at last,” he announced as he pulled even with my condo, tone bone-dry. “Safe and sound.”

I turned to face him. His generous mouth had turned down on one side and his eyes had lost some of that bay-blue sparkle. Damn it. Now I wanted his warm, flirty smile back. “Thank you. For the ride. And last night.”

“No problem.” He nodded as I exited the truck. “Hey, Quinn?”

“Yeah?” I gripped the door, turning back to him.

“You ex is a jerk. Don’t let him drive you to another bender.”

“I won’t.”

I shut the door and stepped onto the sidewalk. He gave me a short wave and a half-smile before pulling away. I’m a nice one, he’d said last night. And he was. He was a good guy. He’d taken way better care of me than I deserved. As I watched him round the corner, I acknowledged that I needed to think of a better way to thank him.

My brain helpfully supplied a dozen images, each more pornographic than the last. I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. And yet, my stomach still fluttered. We could.