Page 86 of Playboy For Hire

“We need to talk,” I said heavily. “About this. About us.” I waved a hand at the coffees he was holding.

“What?” he said again. “Why?”

I steeled myself. “We can’t keep doing this. I can’t, anyway. It’s just not gonna work, long term.”

“But I—I’m sorry, I feel like I missed a step somewhere.” Quinn shook his head. “Where is this coming from?”

“I told you in the beginning that I don’t do relationships.”

“But I’m not trying to change your mind on that?”

Bewilderment filled his eyes, and hurt. I felt like a terrible person. But if I had to hurt him in the short run to protect myself in the long run, I’d do what I needed to. He’d get over it. He was smart and accomplished and gorgeous. He’d have no trouble finding someone who was worthy of him.

“What do you call this?” I pointed at the coffee cups.

“Coffee?” he said. “It doesn’t mean anything more than that.”

“Maybe not at first. But first it’s coffee, then it’s breakfast, and then it’s dates that aren’t really dates and soon it’s dinner withmy parents, but you’re my real boyfriend this time, and I already told you, that’s not me. I don’t do emotions.”

Quinn stared at me. “I don’t get it. I never said I—I mean, can’t we just keep doing what we were doing?”

“No.”

I didn’t soften the word, didn’t add caveats. I just let it hang in the air between us, knowing how brutal it sounded.

“So what are you saying?” His eyes were pained.

“I’m saying I can’t see you again.” My heart broke as I said it, but I knew it was true. “Not as a client, not as a friend, and definitely not as anything more.”

At first, I’d hoped I could keep Quinn as a friend if we kept things strictly platonic. Then I’d told myself it could get physical, but nothing more than that. But I’d failed on both accounts. It hurt, knowing I wouldn’t see him anymore. But imagining Quinn distancing himself from me, trying to let me down gently when he realized we were a mistake? That would hurt way, way worse.

“I’m not trying to make it more,” Quinn said. “You’re the one who invitedmeto dinner with your parents, you know.”

“And look what it led to.” I added some disdain to my voice. “Can you really tell me this is still just fun for you? Can you honestly say you haven’t started to want more?”

Part of me hoped he would say that. Hoped that I would believe him. But I knew he wouldn’t.

Quinn was honest, and he wasn’t that hard to read. That was part of what I loved about him. But it was also why I had to endthings before they got worse. Because it would be impossible for him to hide his feelings, once he didn’t want me anymore.

In truth, I wasn’t just saving myself long-term pain—I was saving Quinn, too. I wouldn’t put it past him to realize he didn’t want me anymore, but stay with me out of a sense of obligation. I didn’t want to put him through that, whenever it finally happened.

His mouth opened, closed, opened again. Finally, he said, “No. I guess I can’t.”

“I clearly gave you the wrong impression,” I said brusquely. “I never meant to lead you on, but I have, and that’s why we need to stop seeing each other. It’ll be best for us both in the long run.”

“Can you honestly tell me that you don’t feel anything either?” Quinn asked. “That you don’t want something more?”

More than you could imagine, I thought to myself. But I forced my face to stillness, forced my voice to stay neutral. Cold, even. I was saving us both in the long run.

“I’m sorry. But I just don’t.”

16

QUINN

Days later, I still felt terrible. I felt like a fool for liking Ryder—for loving him. For thinking he might ever return the feeling.

I’d been so stupid to fall so fast. To be so idealistic. To think that suddenly, out of nowhere, I’d get the happy ending I’d done nothing to deserve.

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