Big Talking Man (Kings of Castle Beach #2) Page 6

  “You kicked me out. Told me if I left, I better not ever come back or you would have your brothers kick my ass, lock me in chains, and toss me overboard.”

  “I was angry. Grieving. And all you wanted to do was leave.”

  He pushes away from the mantle. “I had a business to run, just like you. But unlike you, I have a hell of a lot more people riding on my decisions.”

  “And here we go—who has a harder job? Whose job is more beneficial to more people? Spare me.”

  “It’s not a contest, Quinn. It’s a fact. Roxi and Will are subcontractors. They can leave when they want, and take their clients with them. I was at the end of shooting a movie and had a break. That free period ended. People were depending on me to finish what I started.”

  “I depended on you,” I shout, smacking my hand against my thigh as pain and frustration pours out of me. “You left me.”

  “Shit.” Tate moves closer to me, and I skirt out of the way. He keeps stalking me, his intent clear. He wants to comfort me, and I won’t have it. His tenderness is always my undoing—always. “Dammit, Quinn. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I stop in the middle of the foyer. “I know you won’t, not like that.”

  “Then how?”

  He moves to take me in his arms, but I forestall him with a step back. “Please don’t,” I whisper. “Please.”

  “This is not how I want tonight to end. It barely got started, and you’re already pushing me away.” He pivots, heading to the far side of the living room. Despite the fact I’m almost to the front door, I can see him clearly. “Don’t go.”

  “I have to.” I can’t stay here like this. I’m barely dressed, and my tenuous control over my emotions is about to snap. “I’m too upset to think rationally.”

  His jaw works, then he runs a hand through his hair. “Fair enough. How about we try again? Your place. Or somewhere neutral. Let me know.”

  My chin trembles, hot tears filling my eyes. “I promise to text you when I’m ready.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  That’s what you said before you left me, I want to remind him, but I don’t. Instead, I adjust my coat and leave.

  Chapter 7

  Tate

  It’s been two days since I’ve last heard from Quinn. As the sun makes its way across the sky, I’m convinced a third day without a text is imminent.

  Instead of dwelling on that, I accompany Barron on one of his animal rescue missions. He started it three years ago. While I’ve always been a supporter both mentally and monetarily, I’ve never actually gotten the chance to scour local dumping grounds for pets that have been, basically, thrown away by their owners.

  Our first stop is Castle Beach Metal Works and Recycling. As a kid, this place always thrilled me due to the giant claw that would come down, grab, and effortlessly lift cars, parts of tractors, drains, and culverts from loaded trailers.

  As an adult, all the glass and sharp edges has me thinking back to when my last tetanus shot was.

  “Don’t wimp out on me,” Barron says.

  “I’m not; I’m making sure I don’t cut anything vital.”

  Barron laughs. “Man, Quinn must have done a number on you for you to be out here sweating your ass off.”

  I glare. “She has nothing to do with this.”

  “I don’t recall you being this altruistic on Instagram.”

  I duck down, peering under a slab of rusted metal. Nothing. “That’s because if I were to do this and record it to post, I’d get accused of wanting attention. Plus, there’d be rumors I was participating because I’m in deep shit.”

  Barron makes a noise. “So what?”

  I stand. “I don’t need that kind of shit.” Shit is the operative word for the day.

  “Neither do the people and animals who need our help.”

  I pull my ball cap further down on my face. “Is that Barron the politician speaking or Barron the human?”

  “Shut up. I did this kind of stuff before I ever ran for office, asshole.”

  Yeah, he did, and yeah, I am an asshole for accusing him of something he’s not remotely guilty of. Barron is an animal lover, just like Quinn. Except unlike Quinn, who refuses to get a pet she doesn’t have enough time for, Barron has two cats that run his life. He claims they adopted him by showing up on his back deck one morning and never leaving.

  “Sorry.”

  “Apology accepted. Maybe I shouldn’t judge you so harshly. I imagine you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t on social media.”

  “You got that right.”

  “Price we pay for the life we live,” he says.

  “What’s up with all the life quotes?”

  “Nothing.” He veers left, checking in an old car with busted-out windows. “All clear.”

  “While I want to find an animal in need of rescue, I’m glad we haven’t. It’s too damn hot for anyone out here—humans and animals alike.”

  “Yeah, except the manager swore she saw a cat and a puppy out here this morning.”

  I shrug. “Maybe they’re gone.”

  “Maybe so, but we still have three more acres to explore.” He wriggles his brows. I swear if he’d had on a bow tie right now, the fucker would tweak it.

  “Bring it on.”

  “Ready to tell me what’s going on with you and Quinn?” he says after another five minutes of searching.

  “I asked her to give me thirty days to make things right.”

  “And?”

  “She said as long as I promised to give her a divorce after that time, she agreed, but our first dinner together... It ended in an argument, and she stormed out with a promise to text when she was ready.”

  “Which means she’s gone radio silent.”

  “Correct,” I say, biting out the word. “The last time I allowed her to run the show, she didn’t speak to me for four months and served me with divorce papers. That’s not going to happen this time.”

  Barron smacks me on the back. “Listen, I gave you bad advice when I said to let her come to you. I didn’t realize it until a lot later. So, I’ll help you any way I can.”

  “Appreciate it.” I shake my head. “I’m pretty damn sure I’ll need all the help I can get when it comes to Quinn changing her mind.”

  “We Kings are stubborn,” he agrees, which doesn’t make me feel better in the least. “Once we’re done for the day, you should go by her salon. Meet on her turf, where she won’t feel quite so vulnerable. Plus, you’ll be coming to her again, which lets her know you’re serious.”

  “Damn, that is good advice.”

  “I know,” he says with a confident smile.

  “Cocky bastard.”

  Ignoring me, he turns his attention to the mostly elderly volunteers who are with us. They are carrying various combinations of leashes and crates, as well as bottled water, bowls, and food. “It’s supposed to hit one hundred and five by one. Make sure you stay hydrated. If you’re too hot, go sit in the air-conditioned van. I’d rather you be out for a brief time than wind up in the hospital, because I can’t do this without you,” Barron says.

  The volunteers nod and smile, dropping back a little, but none go to the van parked out front.

  Barron always had a knack for getting people to do what he wants. Luckily, he uses his powers for good.

  “Shouldn’t we be carrying that stuff?” I ask him.

  He shakes his head. “No. We handle finding the animals. They are in charge of love, attention, and medical care. Besides, I don’t want them to get cut or hurt.”

  “But I’m disposable.”

  Barron grins. “You’re not a local. Not anymore.”

  BY THE TIME WE FINISH exploring every inch of the recycling centers grounds, I’ve sweated so much I have to make a quick stop at my rental house to shower and change.

  Nervous energy races through me as I drive to Quinn’s salon. Will she be happy to see me or call the cops on me?

  Nah, she’d throw my ass out h
erself. The thought makes me smile.

  After I park, I shove some coins into one of the meters the town had promised to convert to credit cards years ago, and hustle inside. I don’t want to take the chance that she sees me coming and locks the door.

  As I walk inside, chilly air hits me, then the smile of a familiar face. “Hey, Campbell.”

  “Hi. Was Quinn expecting you?”

  Taking her lack of pleasantries in stride, I answer honestly. There’s no reason to press for information, no matter how benign on my end, from someone who’d rather not talk about their past. “Not exactly.”

  “She’s with a client right now, but you’re welcome to wait.”

  “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?” she asks, still all business. Wow. I’ve known Campbell for years, but she’s treating me like I’m someone she barely knows.

  “I’m good.” I pause, then turn to her again. “Listen, I don’t know what happened with you and—

  “We broke up.”

  I nod at the ring on her finger. “I can see that, and I’m happy for you.”

  “Thanks,” she says tightly.

  “All I want you to know is I’m not the type to gossip. Whatever went on, that’s your business to tell, not mine. So... however you want to handle this, I’m fine with it, but...” Campbell visibly pales. “I’m not okay with us pretending like we don’t know each other.”

  A breath of air rushes out of her. “I can do that, Tate. Just my time with... well, let’s just say it didn’t end well. I’m really happy to be here—to have moved on.”

  “I’m happy for you, then.” I mean it. Campbell always seemed like a sweet, kind woman who was too good for a guy who ended up being a rat bastard who skipped out of town, owing millions to a lot of people, including me.

  “Besides, Quinn knows I know you. So does Knight.”

  “Good. I hate hiding stuff from her.”

  She scrunches her nose. “Why is that?”

  “Not good for a relationship.”

  Before she can answer, a little boy comes running into the lobby, his eyes wide. Quinn runs in right after him, her hands full. “You want to me to style you here?” she asks.

  He nods.

  Another woman, presumably the boy’s mother, trails in, a worried expression on her face. “Sorry, Quinn. Today’s been tougher than usual.”

  Quinn smiles. “I told you not to worry. We’ll do whatever Davie’s comfy with and that’s it.”

  Davie walks up to the window, paying me no mind, but Quinn sees me. However, other than a slight narrowing of her eyes, that’s all the acknowledgement I get.

  “Right here,” he declares.

  “I love the sun,” Quinn says, holding out the black drape they always lock around customers’ necks—the one that makes people feel as if they’re choking. Or maybe that’s just my stylist? “Ready for your superhero cape?”

  “Not the front.”

  “Nope,” she agrees. Instead of snapping it in place, she tucks it into the back of his shirt. “There you go, Superman.”

  “Batman.”

  “Got it.” She sprays his hair down with water.

  Davie complains, but he doesn’t move from his spot.

  “You are so brave, Batman.”

  As soon as her scissors touch his hair, he flinches, then runs to one side. Quinn stands up, the smile on her face firmly fixed. “Did you see the Joker over there?”

  Davie nods. “Yup.”

  “Do you need back up?”

  He nods, and she points to herself. He nods again, and Quinn joins him. They inspect the corner, talking quietly. She gives him the spray bottle and a towel.

  “She’s so good with him,” Davie’s mom says to me. “He’s... ah... he has a lot of sensitivities because he’s on the spectrum. So, finding someone who can work with him is... She’s amazing. I wish she could do more than cut—...I mean style—his hair. We don’t use cut because Davie gets scared for his hair.”

  “Smart thinking on your part.”

  Quinn manages to cut some of his hair while he sprays the wall and wipes it down, over and over. “That was Quinn’s idea. She said she talked with other stylists, so she could be prepared. She didn’t want to turn me away like all the others did.”

  Understanding dawns. “Is this his first haircut—I mean, hairstyle?”

  “Third.” His mom gives me a watery smile. “Since he was two—that’s when it started.”

  “Superhero jumping jacks time,” Quinn announces. They start counting off. Even Campbell joins in from behind the desk. “Twenty. Time to wipe out the Joker again.”

  Davie’s mom pulls out her phone and starts to take pictures. When they’re done, Quinn walks Davie over, sharing how brave he was to kick not only the Joker’s butt, but also all his evil helpers.

  Davie’s mom gives Quinn a hug, whispering her thanks loud enough that I can hear. Davie grabs his headphones from his mom and puts them on, completely focused on the glass door.

  “See you next time,” Quinn calls as they leave.

  “Totally,” Davie’s mom says.

  Campbell waves. “I’ll text you a confirmation.”

  As soon as they leave, Campbell makes herself scarce and Quinn swaggers up to me, blue-and-pink hair pulled into a high ponytail. She’s wearing a vintage Queen t-shirt and ripped jeans with Birkenstocks, looking all of eighteen instead of twenty-eight.

  “Here for a haircut?” she asks.

  “You’d shave me bald.” I run my hand through my damp hair. “I like it as it is.”

  Quinn puts her hands on her hips. “I guess I should give you credit for showing up two days later instead of four months later.”

  I shrug. “If you want.”

  She cocks a brow. “So very sure of yourself, Tate.”

  I give her a bland smile. “We need to talk.”

  “You have twenty-seven days left.”

  “I have twenty-nine days left because there is no way in hell we’re counting the two days you hid from me,” I counter.

  “I didn’t hide from you,” she snarls at me. “I have a life. A business to run.”

  “A husband to ignore.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So you admit I’m your husband?”

  Her smirk falters. “Stop playing word games.”

  I take her hand in mine, noting how her pulse starts to race. Hell, mine is, too. “I don’t want to play those kinds of games with you, wild child.”

  She licks her lips. “What kind do you want to play?”

  “The kind where we behave like adults and you uphold your end of our bargain.”

  She snatches her hand away. “Whatever. I’ll meet you later, at Ten Blue.”

  “What time?”

  “Seven.”

  “PM or AM?”

  Her jaw works, but I’m not backing down. She’d claim she meant an early breakfast, and it was my fault for not knowing it. “PM.”

  I lean in, kissing her soft cheek, then working my way to her ear. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  She grabs my junk, squeezing gently. On a startled moan, I thrust my hips forward, reveling in her touch. “Not yet it isn’t, but you’re getting there.”

  “Only for you, wild child. Only for you.” Closing my eyes, I push her hand away even though I really don’t want to, then shuffle out of there, keenly aware of my erection and the blood rushing to it. “Oh, and Quinn?”

  “Yes?”

  “You did a good thing today.”

  She eyes me. “You don’t sound surprised or sarcastic.”

  “Of course not. You’re one of the best people I know.” Then I shove the door open and make my exit into the Carolina heat.

  Chapter 8

  Quinn

  Tate stands as soon as he sees me. I knew he’d beat me to dinner because he’s notoriously early, just like my brother Barron. A small part of me wanted to keep him waiting this evening, but that’s
a power move I have no interest in playing.

  Instead, I saved my power move for my outfit, a skin-skimming white sheath with a bolt of rose-gold lightning down the center paired with sky-high stilettoes. I’m a least an inch taller than he is in my five-inch heels, giving me an advantage I crave.

  “Wow....” His warm brown eyes skim me appreciatively as he moves his to kiss my cheek.

  Dang it. While I’m a bit taller, it’s not enough to make him look up at me.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  I preen in response to his compliment. Sure, that might make me a weak woman, but I can’t help it. There’s just something about this man; he’s always been able to get to me with just a look or phrase. “Thank you.”

  Once he moves the small distance around the table, he pulls out my chair for me. “I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered your favorite drink.”

  I see the glass of red wine on the table. “That was very thoughtful of you, but don’t think this will change my mind.”

  He chuckles. “Not even in my wildest fantasies did I think something so insignificant as remembering what you like to drink would change your mind.”

  The server stops by the table, taking orders and making sure our water glasses are filled. Ten Blue has some the best views in Castle Beach, and I can’t help but gaze out the window beside us taking in dolphins as they play in the late afternoon water, the adventurous surfers in search of that last wave to ride, and the tourists as they feed seagulls that will now never leave them alone.

  “You want to be out there, don’t you?” It’s not a question.

  “Want is not something I can afford to indulge in right now.” I wanted Tate, and look where that got me.

  “And why is that?” He leaned forward in his chair, a cocky little grin on his face. On any other man, I would hate it, but on him, it simply works.

  “I have responsibilities. I have a business to run, an employee to support, and my family to... manage.”