QUINN

Logan is in the ring tonight and you know what that means, folks? That's right; the club is filled to the brim with humans that I swear are more sweat than skin. Just walking from the center of the room to the bar left me feeling like I just took a dip in a salty ocean. Except it's not refreshing at all because... well because it's friggin sweat.

That big guy with the even bigger neck pimple that I swear has eyes of its own? Yeah, his sweat is smeared across my arm. The girl that's probably spreading some kind of venereal disease or Ebola thanks to how many people she's grinding against tonight? Her booty juice is on my lower back.

I have formed some level of intimacy with these strangers, connected to them through bodily fluids. It's not a pact I entered into willingly, though.

Cash started back up at work this past Monday and I can't help but watch him in his element. I have concerns about this place, but I can't deny that he looks content here. At peace with his smelly environment, like the mix of different body odors doesn't even bother him.

It's another home for him. He gazes at the staff the same way he does the family photos lining his mama's walls. His admiration for their mere existence is apparent and the glint in his eyes is almost like he's silently vowing to protect them.

That's when I make my decision. I won't put up a fight against him becoming a partner, not because I don't fear what could happen to him, but because he would be amazing at it. Every doubt dissipates as I watch him stride around this place, lighting up the dim interior lighting with the smile he tosses at every passerby. A smile he didn't used to brandish. One that makes it obvious there's been a shift within him.

"Did you tell him?"

I spin in my seat to face Gio. His face is flushed as he serves a shot of bourbon to the random guy beside me. Using his shoulder, he wipes the sweat off his forehead. More sweat. I bet I'm drinking the stuff at this point.

"He said he didn't want to know."

Gio breathes a sigh of relief, but it bugs me that I'm hoarding knowledge from Cash, even if it was his decision to keep it that way in the first place. I can't pinpoint the moment I became a top-secret information bank, but I'm praying Cash will want to rob me for everything I'm worth soon. Every single fact, statistic, and secret.

I want him to know about my dad and how, despite my anger, he's not the villain mama paints him to be. I guess I'm guilty of doing that, too. He makes it hard not to.

I want him to know about all the times Dylan walked me to school, rescued me from illegal parties, and got into trouble with me once mama found her solace in the bottle.

I kind of even want... to hand him the forbidden organ. I'd make it presentable, of course. Wrapped up in a nice little bow with the ribbons curled. You can't just give someone a heart all willy-nilly.

Hey, here's an organ. Happy birthday!

"Gio, you should tell him. He might never forgive you if he hears it from someone else first. And we both know he'd respect you a lot more if you used your testicles for something other than, ya know, procreating." I try to tread carefully, knowing this is a touchy subject for everyone involved.

A sad smirk touches his lips, but he leans in and whispers, "He'll kill me, Quinn."

My brows furrow as I shake my head in frustration. I don't know where he's getting this from. I mean, I know Cash is intimidating and strong and sometimes has a quick temper, but he's also levelheaded and understanding and forgiving. Do his coworkers really not look at him the way I see him looking at them? Or is Gio just that scared to face the truth?

Before I get the chance to tell him that his assumption is factually incorrect, he's serving a new line of customers at lightning speed. I turn towards the floor to focus my attention back on the man of my often-inappropriate dreams.

I guess he kind of does look like he'd kill someone for saying the wrong thing, but that's just his work face. I bet if I went over there right now and squeezed one of those amazing cheeks his butt possesses, he'd be all smiles and love.

As he scans the room, his eyes catch mine and an instantaneous grin appears on his face before continuing his Batman duties. My stupid heart does fluttery things, but then a loud thud in the ring grabs my attention.

I'm not the least bit surprised to see that Logan has killed his opponent. Temporarily, of course. They always come back to life after a minute or two.

Everyone else cheers like they didn't already know the end result before it happened and, for the first time, I spot Wyatt up at the ring, fist bumping Logan between the ropes. Guess beating each other up makes you friends. I've been doing it wrong this whole time. Won't that make it awkward the next time they have to fist flirt with each other?

Cash and Silas start wrangling people outside the conference room, and they all obey this time. After a few minutes, Logan and Wyatt make their way over. There's a swarm of... what are groupies for boxers called? Boopies? Boxies? Well, there's a whole hoard of them following behind the two guys.

Wyatt drops a kiss on the top of my head and, not even two seconds later, Logan's hand is there, rustling my hair all around like he has no respect for how long it takes for me to tame the mane.

"I'm never rooting for either of you again." I mumble, trying to smooth my hair back down. It's already tangled. Great.

Logan places his hand over his heart and pretends to be hurt by my deceitful declaration while Wyatt rolls his eyes. The boxies are all either staring at me with curiosity or disdain, but they're everywhere. Like sharks circling their prey.

Gio serves up drinks as the chatter around us becomes loud and unruly. Everyone is laughing three octaves too high or yelling so people can hear them over the other people yelling. I would like to inform them that this is an ineffective method of communication, but that would require me to yell, defeating the purpose of my lesson.

After listening to a very boring conversation about man dancing and fist punching, an arm wraps around my waist from behind. Cash's fingers slide under the hem of my shirt, resting on my lower stomach. My body feels completely weightless, defying gravity like a badass.

My favorite part of being here now are these moments in time when he's allowed to let his guard down close to the end of the night. How he always finds some kind of way to sneak up on me and force my brain to tune everything else out.

I can still hear the conversations going on around us, but his voice is the only thing that's clear in the sea of fuzzy babbling.

"You look bored." His whisper bounces off the skin below my ear, sending goosebumps down my arms.

I do an about-face so I can peer up at him.

"Did you know goosebumps serve no purpose? We just haven't evolved out of them yet."

His pearly white teeth gleam through the dark club as he gazes down at me.

Pause. No rewind. No pressing play. I just want to pause right here, permanently. The smile that forms crinkles at his eyes. That smile is for me. For my facts that nobody else has ever cared about.

"Cash..." I rasp, my throat suddenly scratchy. "I lo–"

"Sonny!"

At the same exact time, our heads snap to the woman who just said the name we've been trying to avoid for weeks. She's beautiful and all legs and very tan. And she's pushing through the crowd, beelining for the bar. Right for Gio. He hasn't even heard or seen her yet.

He doesn't know his secret is being exposed with every step closer she gets to him because Cash is tracking her movements like a hawk, waiting to see where she stops. And I can't do a damn thing to warn him.