Page 17 of The One for Forever

My throat swells with embarrassment. Smooth move, Quinn. Way to be that responsible, mature adult.

If I’ve lost my wallet, I’ll have to spend all day tomorrow canceling credit cards and replacing things. I’ll have to get a new phone. But the thought of looking like an idiot in front of Rex is far worse.

I feel like I’m that teenager again, making a mess and needing Rex to help dig me out of it.

We hurry back in the direction we came from. The path curves, weaving through palm trees, and I spot Eddie’s booth. There’s still a line, even though it’s getting late. Ocean Lane is lined with streetlights, but over here near the water, the spots of darkness are wider. The shadows stretch.

I gasp as someone steps into the path, blocking our way. Even in the dimness, his neon orange jacket stands out.

It’s the same guy we passed earlier, an hour ago at least, who was staring at me.

Rex holds out his arm to keep me behind him. “You need to move, son.”

“She’s Quinn Ainsley,” Orange Jacket says. “Isn’t she?”

Fear prickles my skin with goosebumps. “None of your business,” I snap. Rex is still in front of me, a wall of muscle ina tuxedo. His stance is loose, but I can read the tension in his frame. He drops his jacket to the path. Clenches his fists.

“Last time I’m asking,” Rex says. “Move.”

Orange Jacket shouts, “It’s her!”

Then someone else darts out from behind a palm tree. One of the guys Orange Jacket was with earlier. He’s holding something in his hand like he’s ready to throw it.

But just as quick, the guy disappears from view as Rex grabs me, spinning us both. Putting himself between me and whatever that guy was throwing. Rex’s arms clutch me tightly against him. Suddenly all I can focus on is warm, solid muscle, the deep, spicy scent of his cologne. My feet don’t touch the ground. But we’re moving.

The next thing I know, Rex sets me on the sidewalk. We’re beneath a bright streetlight, and the two others—Orange Jacket and his friend—have vanished. I’m breathing fast.

“What just happened?” I ask. “Are you okay?” The street scene comes back into focus. A view bystanders are watching with mild curiosity.

“I’m just fine,” Rex says softly. “Did any of that hit you?”

“Any ofwhat?”

He doesn’t answer that. He pulls me against him again, head swiveling to glance around us. “The little assholes took off. Typical. This dry-cleaning bill isn’t going to be pretty.”

“Rex, whathappened? What did that guy throw?”

He lifts his arm, turning slightly, though he doesn’t let go of me. There’s something pale brown splattered all over his white tuxedo shirt. “It seems I saved you from a perfume bottle and now a chocolate milkshake. I’m in rare form tonight.”

I would laugh if this whole situation wasn’t so frustrating. Who does that? Throws a milkshake at someone? Atme? And Rex stepped in front of it. Hustled me away like the guy had been aiming a bullet at me instead.

This is because of the Amber Printz case. Has to be. That guy just now recognized me, knew my name.

Oh my God. What if it really is a bullet next time, some random nut job deciding to defend Amber’s honor? Just how bad could this get?

Rex tucks me into his side, coaxing me back toward the path. “Come on. Let’s find your purse.”

We grabhis coat and my shoes from where we dropped them on the path.

My clutch is exactly where Rex thought it might be. Safely behind the counter at Ernie’s. His nephew turns it over, and Rex tucks an extra twenty into the tip jar.

Rex puts on his coat over his ruined shirt. We head back to the hotel, where he parked. I spot his truck a block away. He still drives the same lifted model. I always thought that was interesting, because Rex is an understated guy in many ways, and his truck is anything but.

However, after seeing how ferocious he got when defending me from Orange Jacket and his friend?

Somehow, the giant truck fits. It says,Don’t even fucking think about it.

“I’ll give you a ride,” he says.

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