Page 14 of Fixer for the Billionaire

It took time for me to see past his charm and wit. When I finally did, I ended our brief fling.

I understand the allure of Quentin's easy smiles and smooth talk. Even now, Gabi and Val are slowly being drawn in.

They're so absorbed; they barely notice as we stop in front of Gabi's soccer practice field.

As Gabi and Val leave the car, Quentin turns to me with that sly grin.

"Round two next Saturday?" he asks, his smile fading into a serious look.

I return a small smile. "We're good from here."

"Understood." He nods, expression unreadable. "I've rescheduled our meeting with Puddle and Glitter for tomorrow. I'll drop you off and handle your car. Unless..."

"Unless?"

"There's anything else you need?" His eyebrow lifts suggestively.

The thought of asking Quentin for anything twists my stomach.

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"Anytime." He shrugs, pulling out of the parking lot. “By the way…”

“Yeah?”

“I apologize for that sexist-ass comment about ‘sucking things’. I’m working on not being an ass.”

A moment passes before I respond. “I know.”

He nods, an understanding passing between us. The drive back to my place is silent, the only sound the soft hum of the car heater.

Chapter Six

QUENTIN

As I pull up in front of Carmina's subdued townhouse, nestled in one of Seattle's quieter parts, the heavens unleash their fury. The rain pounds on my Escalade's roof, mimicking a troupe of tap-dancing elves in steel-toed boots.

Turning off the engine, I brace to sprint for cover, but something feels... off.

"We've got a problem," I barely shout over the rain to Carmina.

Beside me, she stiffens. "What now?"

Stepping into the deluge, the chill seeps into my bones. I discover several nails partying in my tire. Cursing, I touch the cold car, my grip tightening.

"Flat tire," I announce, inspecting the deflated rubber.

Carmina pokes her head out, her voice nearly lost to the rain. "Seriously?"

I look at her. "Not enjoying a soak here. Unless you think I'm aiming for a wet t-shirt contest win?"

Her glare could freeze the rain. "You're prime for pneumonia. Can you even change a tire?"

Determined, I grab my jacket, futile against the rain, and head for the spare tire and tools.

The universe, insisting on my humility, aims every drop at me. Carmina, seeking refuge under my truck's awning, finds the umbrella. "For a smooth guy, this 'heroic' moment's a flop."

I shoot back a look, soaked. "Jump in any time. Misery loves company. And if pneumonia takes me, you'll have to explain to everyone why you stood by, offering nothing but sarcastic commentary."

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