Page 23 of Roommate's Guide to Love

And not just any someone.

A someone I’mbiblicallyfamiliar with.

“Quinn?”

Her face was buried in her phone, so she didn’t see me coming, but I’d know that top knot anywhere.

“Oh! Porter! Um…hi.”

It only takes me a few more steps to get to the booth, where I slide in across from her. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting breakfast. What else would I be doing here?”

I narrow my eyes, because she has to know what I’m actually asking. But if I know Quinn like I know I do, I’m going to have to pry this information from her.

Seeing Quinn on a non-holiday is unusual.

Seeing her twice within a few months’ span is rare.

But now three times in two months? And two of those in a two-week span? Something is up. Something big.

“You know what I mean. Why are you in Mona’s Diner, in Rolling Hills, on a Monday morning in the spring?”

Because of the nature of our relationship, we don’t regularly talk. We have each other’s numbers, but we rarely use them. I just assumed that after she snuck out before the sun came up, that she was headed back to Arizona.

But did she go back? Or did she stay? No. There’s no way she would’ve flown under the radar in town for the past week. Someone would’ve said something. Quinn “Hurricane” Banks is infamous around this town due to her years of pranks and general spectacles. And if she were back, the Facebook group, the old men’s bitching group, and every other clique would be whispering nonstop about the lost Banks sister back in Rolling Hills.

“I’m back in town. Temporarily.”

Her words are quiet, but I heard every one of them.

Quinn Banks is back in Rolling Hills.

And even though I’m doing a little dance inside—my sex life just got a lot more interesting—I can tell by her demeanor that this isn’t a happy return. So I do the gentlemanly thing and temper down my excitement.

Much to my dick’s dismay.

“Is everything okay? Wait, is this what you were?—”

She holds up her hand, knowing where my words were going and when she said them to me. It’s then that I really look into her dark chocolate eyes and can see the gamut of emotions running through them.

“I quit my job. So I’m back here while I figure out my life.”

“Wow.” I wasn’t expecting that. “What happened?”

She shakes her head. “The story is way too long for the lack of energy I have this morning. Short version is that I got into it with a group of parents. They’d been fighting with me all year. And I finally had it. Dropped a few f-bombs. Called them names. Not-so-subtly accused one of having a lavender marriage. And then I quit.”

“Damn. If that ain’t the most Quinn Banks way to quit a job, I don’t know what is.”

She laughs softly, but not enough to wipe the pain off her face. “That’s what my family said.”

Mention of the Banks crew makes the rest of the pieces fall into place.

“Is that why you were home a couple weeks ago?”

She nods again, holding her iced coffee between her hands. “I’d quit a few days before. I was going stir-crazy in my apartment. And I think my cat was worried about me. So I found my cat a sitter and booked a flight home. I didn’t know where else to go.”

My heart breaks a little more with every word she says. I also didn’t realize she had a cat. Knowing Quinn, it’s some random name or something like Bob.

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