Quinn is always hungry.
But looking at his burly frame and trying not to drool, I guess he needs to fuel all that muscle.
I’m stuffed after our massive Southern dinner, which was amazing. But Quinn is looking for something else to eat as we’re walking the streets, in no real hurry.
The night is chilly, so I’m dressed in my jeans, boots, and a fleecy sweater. I’m so thankful we stopped to get some heavier clothes; otherwise, I would be freezing my butt off now.
“Hey, there’s that bar the chick who was eye f*****g you was talking about,” I say, looking up at the sign ahead, which flashes in fluorescent green.
“Eye f*****g me?” he questions, raising his brow.
“Oh please, don’t play dumb. You saw her falling all over herself to get your attention,” I reply, attempting to keep the annoyan
