Page 18 of What Love Can Do
She giggled nervously. “Well, hopefully I can give you something you’ll like even more.”
“Oh I have no doubt of that.” Raising his hand, he kissed her fingers.
For several minutes, the car lapsed into a comfortable silence.
“But um, Quinn?”
“Yes?”
“Just this once…okay?”
He heard it there in her voice—trepidation, the same worry he had over getting too attached. He didn’t want to fall in love anymore than she did. He wasn’t ready. Maybe soon, but not now, not when he didn’t know where his life was headed. “I got you, Lilly. Just one time.”
She sighed, and he knew she was satisfied with their decision.
He drove around the last bend toward the bed-and-breakfast all lit up on the roadside like one of those ceramic houses covered in snow in a Christmas display. Just talking and being with Lilly felt normal, natural. He hadn’t smiled in almost two weeks, and now, in just one night, she’d made him laugh and flirt like his old self. He couldn’t wait to see how else she’d make him feel.
At about midnight, he parked the car, shut the engine, then they crunched over gravel toward a side entrance in the shadows, where Lilly pulled out her key, doing her best to slide it into the lock but having a hard time.
“May I?” Quinn offered to help. Was it the tipsiness again or just her nerves, he wondered?
She handed him the key. “Ooo, a registered guest using the private access door, instead of the public front entrance.” She giggled, stumbling over a flower pot, before he caught her. “Aren’t you the rebel?”
“You’re the one bringing me through the super secret side door. We might have to have a rebellion contest, you know. See who’s more disobedient—the cheeky Irish lad or the classy American bird with the hot muffins.” He laughed a little too loud, and she shushed him. “Eh, does your mam live here too?” Quinn asked, stepping into a dark hallway on the opposite side of the guest bedrooms.
Lilly closed the door and tugged him by the hand to a narrow staircase. “She does, but she’s always in bed by now. Come on up.” She started up the dank, carpeted staircase, stumbling over a newspaper sitting halfway up the second set of steps. Quinn wrapped his arms around her hips to keep her steady. In his arms, she felt solid and good, and he liked not having a real excuse to hold onto her but doing it just because she let him.
At the first landing, Lilly turned impatiently and helped Quinn up to her level, and there, in the middle of the stairwell with the moon shining through a tall, thin window, she pressed herself against him, tilting back her chin.
He knew what she wanted but drew it out a bit longer.
“Why, Lilly, this is all so sudden. I don’t know how I feel about this,” Quinn chided, sliding his hands around her waist underneath her shirt. Her skin burned, as he raked his fingers slightly below the waist of her jeans.
“You love it.” She kissed him in the same spot he’d kissed her back at Mulligan’s. On the cheek. Her breath sent shivers down his neck.
His eyes closed to relish the sensation. “You’re right, I do.” Just as he cupped her chin to lower his mouth to hers, she turned away, a playful smile lingering in her eyes. Then, she sprinted up the next flight of stairs to the third floor.
Ah, saucy wench. Quinn chased her, happy to play the game.
When they arrived at a closed darkly-stained wooden door, she turned the knob and let it fly open with a soft squeak. First thing he noticed was how tidy and classic everything appeared, from the wooden furniture to the perfectly made bed with goose-down comforter, to the light orange walls, vases and flowers on the dresser, fireplace, and everything. No tissues on the floor to speak of—a girly place for sure.
“This your flat? Looks like a magazine house.”
She held the door open. “Thanks. This is just the room.”
“There’s more?”
“Lots more. Come on.” She kicked off her heels onto the varnished wooden floor and padded barefoot, unwinding her scarf and tossing her purse onto a chair. When she reached double French doors, she slid aside two sheer curtains and popped open the doors. “Et voilà!”
He walked through the open doorway.
A wave of sweetness hit him, as he ventured out onto a grand veranda decked out with lounge chairs, cut-open barrels holding various herbs—everything from basil to sage to rosemary. He didn’t know all their names, but he knew it smelled good enough to eat out here. The whole perimeter of the balcony was lined with herbs, and a trellis bordered one end, full of all sorts of flowers. “Whoa, amazing, Lil. What kind of flowers are these?” He rubbed a velvety white bloom between his fingers.
“Hydrangeas,” she said, sparking on a handheld lighter and pushing the flaming end into several jars of candles. “There’s also jasmine over there and azaleas, gardenias…you probably smelled them when you came out. You like them?”
“Like them? They’re fecking amazing. You grow these all yourself?”
“I do. Have a seat. I’ll be right back.” She whirled away, leaving him alone on the deck with a darkened view of the mountains and a night sky full of stars. What a lovely landscape, and to think that his mother had been familiar with these same skies and smells and nighttime noises. In some ways, maybe she’d returned here in spirit.