Page 38 of Just One Moment
“Mr.Willisdropped off some squash after you left.Iwas thinking of making soup with it, if you like?”
“Soundsdelicious.”
Witha clap of her hands and a megawatt smile that makes my heart double in size, she skips out of my bedroom.
AndI’mleft utterly confused.
“Okay.”Quinnturns down the radio of my car. “What’sour game plan?”
“Gameplan?”Myeyes bounce to hers, before moving back to the road.We’reon our way to my mom’s, andIwishIwas half as calm as she is right now.She’sin the passenger seat, and ifIthought summer dresses were dangerous, the formfitting dress she’s wearing will be my downfall.
Curvesfor days.
Ialmost choked on my tongue whenIfound her standing in my kitchen with a cake tin in her hands.Herhips, thighs, and ass are begging to have my hands molded to them.Iwant to watch my fingertips disappear into her soft skin, to leave my mark on it, to taste it.
ButIcan’t.
Soinstead,Iaccept my fate: death by blue balls.
“Wecould wing it, like at the bakery yesterday…”Shetrails off, andIdo my best not to react.
It’sthe first time she’s acknowledged the kiss.Lastnight after she made a delicious batch of soup, neither of us brought it up, choosing to talk about other things instead.Ididn’t mind, but it was clear we were both avoiding the subject.
Apparentlynow is the time to discuss the boundaries we should have set from day one.
“I’msorry about that.”Myfingers tighten around the steering wheel. “Ishouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.Itwas inappropriate.”
“You’rea really good kisser.”
Shegasps as my foot slams on the brake pedal with a little too much force as we near a stop sign, jolting us forward before being snapped back by our seat belts.Curlybarks fromQuinn’slap—or maybe it’s in protest to the sweater she wrestled him into.
DidIhear her right?
“Shit, sorry,”Igroan and turn to find her laughing and brushing her bangs back into place.
“It’sfine.”Shesmiles and then glances through the passenger window. “Isthis your mom’s neighborhood?It’slovely.”
“Quinn,”Isay, trying to catch her attention as she takes in the row ofVictorian-style coastal homes. “Atno point in this agreement are you required to kiss me.”
“Idon’t mind.”Sheshrugs. “Didyou grow up in the same house your whole life?”
“Quinn.”
Shewhips her head toward me, looking all innocent. “What’sup?”
“Nokissing.Hand-holding only.”Mybody is turned to fully face her now with my arm hooked around the back of her headrest.
“Idon’t mind if you kiss me.I’llallow some light petting too.”
“JesusChrist.”Myhead falls backward. “Whyare you so relaxed about this all?”
“Idunno.Ithink one of us has to be.”Herhand falls to the armIhave draped over the wheel, and whenIfind her gaze already locked on mine, there’s no looking away. “I’vesaid it once,I’llsay it again.You’rehelping me out big time—with the bakery’s books, letting me stay at your house this week, even being my friend.Soif the opportunity arises and a bit of tonsil hockey is required,I’mdown.Youhave my permission.Let’sjust hope those two wenches saw us yesterday.”
Thequestion is out of my mouth beforeIcan stop them. “Whyare you helping me?”
Hereyes are warm, but a sad smile pulls at her mouth. “WhenIwas growing up,Ididn’t have a lot of people in my corner.Nofriends.Practicallyno family.Ialways promised myself thatIwould give back to the people in my life, to make up for the timesI’vebeen let down or hurt.Itmakes me thinkI’mputting good juju back into the universe.You’rea good one,Graham, and you deserve an extra person in your corner.”
Withoutanother word, she pats me on the hand, and twists the volume dial to fill the car with music again.Speechless, my foot finds the gas pedal, and withQuinnsinging next to me,Icontinue our journey to my childhood home.Duringthe short ride,Idecide anyone would be lucky to have someone like her in their corner, yet she choseme.