Rock Me Faster (Licks of Leather #4) - Jenna Jacob Page 0,6
of Quinn’s contract. If the skeletons in Ross’s closet were heinous or morally reprehensible, I’d have no other choice but to return to Gaia Garden with my tail between my legs.
Please don’t let it come to that.
“O-okay.”
“Great. I’ll see you shortly,” Quinn stated and ended the call.
I glanced at my empty glass. Other than a couple sips of boysenberry mead Daisy made back home, I didn’t drink, and I’d never put alcohol on an empty stomach. But desperate times called for desperate measures. Throwing caution to the wind, I plucked the bottle of champagne from the vat of ice and refilled my glass.
By the end of the night, I’d either be taking a grand adventure and accompany Licks of Leather on their tour or returning to Kentucky.
What am I doing?
“Yeah, yeah…saving the family,” I mumbled to myself.
Before I started grasping for the other elusive reason, I shoved the task away, sipped more champagne, and turned my mental energies on meeting the legendary Quinn MacKinnon.
When the limo pulled to a stop, the butterflies returned, dipping and swooping in my belly. My future, the future of a hundred and sixty others was resting on my shoulders. I couldn’t screw this up. After downing the rest of my bubbly, I set the glass in its holder, and drew in a deep, calming breath.
Gerry opened my door and extended his hand. Hoping he didn’t notice the tremble of my fingers, I placed them in his palm and stepped from the limo. As he retrieved my luggage from the trunk, I rummaged through my purse, searching for one of the three twenty-dollar bills Arlo had managed to coax from the community for my trip. I only hoped the remaining forty dollars would be enough to get back to LaGuardia if things didn’t work out with Quinn.
Knowing that sending negative energy into the ether had dire consequences, I shook all pessimistic thoughts away and handed Gerry one of my coveted twenties.
He shook his head. “No, ma’am. Mr. MacKinnon has generously taken care of my tip.”
The relief that flooded my system sent a pang of guilty greed sluicing through me as well. But the goddesses were undoubtedly sending a sign to hold on to the cash. With a pensive nod, I tucked the bill away and drew strength from Atalanta—warrior goddess no man could best—then strode past the doorman and inside the majestic hotel.
I immediately spotted Quinn, sitting on a beige industrial couch, staring intently at his cell phone. Even if the lobby hadn’t been deserted, I would have recognized the man from the shock of auburn hair and scruff adorning his sharp jawline. He looked exactly like his online photos.
“Good evening,” a young, bubbly female desk clerk greeted. “May I help you?”
Quinn jerked his head up. As he stood, he pinned me with expressive green eyes and a wide, welcoming smile. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in the flesh, Harmony.”
The Scottish lilt in his deep voice intrigued me.
With a reciprocating smile, I extended my hand. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. MacKinnon.”
“Please, call me Quinn.” He chuckled softly. “Pardon me for staring. It’s just…your eyes. They’re as uniquely beautiful in person as they are in your videos.”
It wasn’t the first time someone had remarked about my bright blue eyes. Since I was a child, my father, Bodhi, had told me the story of how Asteria, goddess of the stars, teamed up with Isis, goddess of magic, and bestowed me with the striking color, and the ability to see beyond flesh and bone to perceive the good and bad in others’ hearts.
Quinn’s heart was good.
“Thank you.”
“My, my. Your southern accent is even sweeter.”
“I don’t have an accent…at least not in Kentucky.”
“Neither do I, lass,” he teased with a wink and a grin.
After thanking Gerry, Quinn gathered my suitcases and began strolling toward the elevator. Instead of standing like a statue in the middle of the lobby, I quickly followed the man.
“I took the liberty of checking you in and have your room key in my pocket. And I hope you don’t mind, but I also ordered you dinner,” he explained as I followed him inside the mirrored elevator. “If you don’t like steak, we’ll call and change your order when we get to your room.”
Though I’d only eaten deer meat—thanks to the bow and arrow abilities the hunters in our group possessed—I didn’t think beef would taste much different.
“No. Steak is perfect. Thank you for ordering me dinner. I’m starving.”