Page 63 of Just Let Go

She picked up her paint roller and dared a glance in their direction. Ashley’s shirt was low cut and revealing, her body near perfect. She had gorgeous hair that fell into loose waves past her shoulders.

By comparison, Quinn was wearing ripped jeans that had paint splatters on them along with a too-big gray sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder because she’d cut the collar off. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and she likely had paint on her face.

She had no delusions about who she was, and she’d never been one to try to impress people. Really, there was only one person whose attention she’d been striving for, and that person was nowhere near Harbor Pointe.

Why then did she suddenly feel like a slug?

“Grady, let’s go.” Ashley tugged on his arm.

“Do you want me to stay and help you?” he asked, probably out of guilt.

“And keep you from your fun Thursday night? I wouldn’t dream of it.” She didn’t look at him when she responded, but she could feel him watching her. He lingered for several more seconds until finally he followed Ashley out the door. Quinn turned around justbefore they disappeared from her view through the front windows, and for the briefest moment she met his eyes.

It was none of her business how he spent his evening, but somehow she wished he was smart enough not to spend it at the bar with Ashley Perkins.

What did she expect? This was the life he was used to.

And it was certainly not a life that she belonged in.

Grady sat at the table across from Ashley, nursing the same beer he’d been drinking since they first sat down. Somehow it had lost its appeal. Ashley, on the other hand, had plowed her way through three fruity cocktails and had just ordered her fourth.

“Don’t you want another drink?” she asked, her words starting to slur.

His mind flashed back to yesterday when he’d wound up at Quinn’s, too drunk to drive home. He did not need a repeat of that. In hindsight, the whole scenario made him feel like an idiot, especially since he had a vague memory of kissing her. She’d been too polite to mention it, but he was pretty sure it had happened. And he knew that was no way to impress someone like her.

Ashley reminded him of most of the girls he dated. They liked to go out, drink too much, throw themselves at him. At first, of course, that had been one of the biggest perks of his fame, but now—tonight—for some reason it didn’t appeal to him.

Maybe hewasgetting old.

“Grady?”

He realized he hadn’t responded to her question. “Oh, no. I’m fine, thanks.”

Ashley laughed. “Maybe you should’ve stayed back at the flower shop with boring Quinn.”

“So, what’s her story, anyway?”

Ashley shrugged. “Who knows?”

“Doesn’t everyone in this town know everything about everyone else?” He kept his tone light—so she didn’t think he was prying.

“I only keep up with the interesting people,” Ashley said. “And Quinn Collins is not interesting.”

Grady disagreed, but he wouldn’t say so. Not out loud. She certainly wasn’t the kind of girl he was supposed to find interesting. She was infuriating and rude. But maybe those were things that made her more—not less—intriguing.

“She’s always been more of a church girl than a bar girl,” Ashley said.

“A church girl?”

“Never misses a Sunday. She’s practically a fixture at The Pointe—that’s the name of that church up on the hill. Guess that gives her the right to look down her nose at the rest of us. You know the type.”

He did, actually. But he didn’t know Quinn. “Enlighten me.”

“Thinks she’s better than everyone else. Can’t loosen up. Plus, she’s never even left Harbor Pointe.”

“Never?”

Ashley shrugged. “I mean, she commuted for college, about forty-five minutes away, but she lived at home.” She laughed. “How lame is that?”

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