“Does it really matter?” Quinn asked as he looked through the notebook, taking in her sketches, the notes she’d made along the way, the intricate designs she came up with for the fireplace, the front door, and Christ, even the wainscotting.
“I think it depends on your answer,” Dylan drawled as she stepped away from the bed and started making her way around his room, taking in all the details from the molding lining the ceiling to the white trim framing the floor and everything in between.
“There’s no fucking way that I’m going to let Brooke destroy everything,” Quinn said as he watched Dylan run her fingertips along the edge of the bureau his cousin Devin built.
“Fair enough,” Dylan murmured as she paused by the closet and looked inside.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked, watching her as she took in the untouched walk-in closet from the oak shelves to the empty drawers.
“Probably the same reason why most people want to get married,” Dylan murmured absently as she closed the closet door and moved onto the next one.
“And that is?” Quinn asked as he glanced back down at the notebook on his lap and-
“Revenge.”
-felt his lips twitch only to sigh when he thought about the divorce clause.
“If we get divorced before the five-year mark, we forfeit the business even if we manage to have a son and Brooke automatically gets B.T. Construction whether or not she’s married and has a child, so I need you to be really fucking sure that this is what you want, Dylan,” Quinn said, looking up to watch as she slowly exhaled and-
“I’m in,” Dylan said firmly.
“Then, it’s a deal,” Quinn said as he turned the page and found himself wondering how she’d managed to hide this from everyone. “When did you start drawing?”
“Right around the time that I fell in love with Blackwood Manor,” Dylan said as she stepped into his walk-in closet and took in his work boots and clothes that only took up a few shelves.
“Why hide it?” Quinn asked as he ran his eyes over her, taking in everything from her long, black hair pulled into aponytail to the baggy B.T. Construction hoodie and worn jeans, typical Dylan Thomas attire.
“Because I know how it would have ended,” Dylan said, shrugging it off as she made her way into the bathroom and-
“Is…is that a jacuzzi tub or a garden tub?” came the hesitant question that had his lips twitching. “You know what? I’ll find out for myself,” she said with a satisfied sigh as she closed the bathroom door behind her.
“And how’s that?” Quinn asked as he flipped through the rest of her journal.
“I never would have been able to leave B.T. Construction,” Dylan said as he heard what sounded like the bathtub running.
“Is that a bad thing?” Quinn asked, tossing the notebook on the bed as he thought about the little pain in the ass taking her clothes off in the other room and-
There was something seriously fucking wrong with him.
“No, it just wasn’t my dream,” Dylan said as Quinn grabbed her backpack, needing something to focus on instead of the deeply disturbing thoughts that he’d been having since she came to work full-time for B.T. Construction.
She’d always been adorable, but when she was eighteen, something changed and he still had no fucking idea why. One day, she was the little pain in the ass that drove him crazy and the next…
He couldn’t take his eyes off her and he’d hated himself for it. He’d never looked at another woman before, never been tempted to before, but with Dylan, he found himself noticing just how fucking beautiful she was, how much he liked it when she teased him, and told himself that it was because he missed Jenn.
So, he forced himself to take on more hours, flipped houses on the side, and worked until he was too fucking exhausted to think about the little pain in the ass. By the time Jenn came back, he was used to putting in long hours, which made it reallyfucking easy to bury himself in his job after he walked in on Jenn getting bent over her desk by her boss.
After that, he was done with absolutely fucking everything.
“And Blackwood Manor was?” he asked as he thumbed through the small stack of black notebooks until he came to one that was faded.
“Yes,” she said with absolutely no hesitation as he opened the notebook and-
“Christ,” he whispered hoarsely as he took in the sketch of Blackwood Manor.
It was…
Incredible.
