Page 33 of Roommate's Guide to Love

And no one, and I mean no one, was prepared for the dog named Dick story.

“Holy shit,” I mumble when she’s done. No one says anything else, because what do you say? Sorry? Better luck next time? Beware of humping dogs?

Quinn is just staring at the tequila bottle like it’s going to give her guidance. I want to say that my job offer still stands, but I know she’ll shut it down. Which fucking sucks. I need help, and I have a feeling, especially after seeing her interact with this ornery bunch, that she’d fit right in with the clientele. But I know this headstrong woman well enough to know that the last thing she wants now is me offering her a job—especially one she already turned down.

I swear she’s just as stubborn as she is beautiful.

And damn if she isn’t beautiful. Today she looks like she went through a tornado. The only makeup she has on is dirt streaked on her face. Her hair is messier than normal. There’s even a little hole in her T-shirt. Yet there’s something about her that pulls me in. Always has. Probably always will. And now that she’s back? I’m going to have to get myself in check so I’m not openly staring at her every time I see her.

I decide to leave Quinn be and go check on my other customers when a hand furiously slams on the bar, making me jump out of my skin. Quinn nearly drops her beer bottle. Before I can figure out who did it, a shout cuts through any other conversations.

“That’s it!”

The cry, and I’m guessing the assault to my bar, comes from George.

“What’s it?” I ask.

“Quinn can work here!”

I can’t help but spit out a laugh. Quinn nearly chokes on the pull of beer she just took.

“Sorry to break your heart George, but Quinn already turned me down.”

“When?” Harry chimes in. “We didn’t hear about it. I thought we were part of personnel decisions.”

“First off, you're not,” I say. “And she did Monday morning. Broke my heart.”

I can feel the daggers Quinn is shooting at me before I even look at her. “What Porter is trying to say,” she begins, “is that yes, he did ask me. And it wasn’t so much me turning him down but rather me thinking I had other options in front of me.”

“Well you did then, but now you don’t,” George says. “Porter needs some help. You need a job. I don’t see a problem with it.”

Oh, if George only knew…

I’ll never admit this out loud to her, but she’s right. We do have a history. If it were one shift, I’m sure I could control myself. I’m an adult and a professional. Then again, I know that after it was over, we’d probably not even make it home before ripping each other’s clothes off.

But if she was working here regularly? I don’t know if I’m strong enough. This is the only woman I’ve slept with more than twice. She’s the only one I’ve ever asked to stay. The only one who can get me hard with just a look. Working with her would be a disaster.

Though it would be worth it to see that perfect ass bending down into the beer cooler…

“Mr. Baskins…”

George scoffs at the use of his last name. “You’re about to start working here, Quinn. You can call me George.”

She smiles at the man who used to own the convenience store in town that every kid in Rolling Hills used to visit for their beverage of choice before school. “George, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But I don’t think I’d be a good fit here.”

“Can you sling drinks?”

“Yeah. I mean, I haven’t done?—”

He cuts Quinn off before she can continue.

“Can you count money?”

“Yes, but that’s not?—”

“Are you going to kick out any assholes who forget the manners their mamas gave ’em?”

“I think everyone knows that I don’t have a problem?—”

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