Page 11 of Alaskan Blackout
His gaze met hers across the table and something fluttered in her belly. How long would he stay in Dutch Harbor?
The pizzeria was getting more crowded now, the volume by the bar increasing, and a group had arrived to use the dartboard near their table. Which was just as well considering she didn’t want this evening with Quinton to feel too intimate. It didn’t help that she had the sneaking suspicion she would like him if they’d met under different circumstances.
“Wait until you experience some of our real weather,” she cautioned him, though she feared the dark, cold and storms might not scare him off as quickly as she’d once hoped. “My bar isn’t called the Cyclone Shack for nothing.”
While they finished their meal, Quinton kept the conversation light, asking more about her experience on the sea and what it had been like learning to navigate open water like the Bering Sea offered. Despite all her better judgment, she found herself warming to the topic and the attention.
By the time they finished their meal and stood to leave, she was remembering the last time she’d been out with a man for the evening. Her last date.
It had been over eighteen months ago.
No wonder she’d enjoyed the attention after so many months without romantic companionship. Yet the memory brought a darker thought with it as she accompanied Quinton back outside to his rental, a four-wheel-drive SUV.
Because it had been during that fateful evening that she’d learned the news that derailed her whole life. Instead of standing beside her through the hellish turn of events, her date had cut ties altogether, dropping her off at her house to rage her way through the aftermath alone.
“Everything okay?” Quinton asked as he held the passenger side door open for her on the sleek black SUV. His keen gaze must have caught something in her expression because he studied her with narrowed eyes.
A cold wind blew off the water, moist air chilling her.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied automatically. Because shewasokay. She’d gotten through the worst of that time in her life, hadn’t she?
Sliding into the SUV, she was grateful to escape the wind. Her heart pounded faster as she buckled her seat belt while Quinton rounded the vehicle to take his place in the driver’s seat.
When he joined her, he switched on the engine to warm up the car but didn’t flip on the lights right away. Instead, he shifted in the driver’s seat so he faced her across the console. His eyes were troubled.
“Are you sure nothing is wrong? Because if my presence here is truly a problem for you—”
“I promise you, I’m made of tougher stuff than that,” she shot back, unwilling to let him think she couldn’t handle a few questions. “Tonight was—” What? Unexpected? Welcome, even? She couldn’t deny sitting beside him tonight had made her body remember what it felt like to ache for more. “Nice,” she finished lamely.
“So why did you look like you were ready to wring someone’s neck with your bare hands on our way out of the restaurant?”
Her lips twitched briefly at the image. Then, sobering as she recalled the moment that had put the expression on her face, she huffed out a sigh, her breath a white cloud since the heater hadn’t warmed the interior sufficiently yet.
“I was recalling the last time I had an evening out with a guy,” she told him honestly, more than ready to spill the story. She’d been toying with the idea of sharing it just so she could ask his professional opinion as a tech expert. “It didn’t end so well.”
Briefly, she outlined the main points as dispassionately as possible to avoid falling down the rabbit hole of anger and bitter regret. She explained how she’d been in an unwise relationship three years before. How it had ended badly. How the guy had filmed them together without her knowledge during the time they’d been a couple. Then, after the breakup, she’d received a text from an unknown number with a thumbnail image from the video and a link.
Blinking back the hot moisture that had formed in her eyes at the retelling, she realized that at some point during the story Quinton had taken her hand. He held it between both of his now, one palm smoothing over the backs of her knuckles while the other provided a resting place for her fingers.
“So that was bad enough,” she wound up the tale, needing to be done with it. “But when I received that text, I was in the middle of a date with a new guy I was actually kind of hopeful about. Except the moment he discovered that I was the subject of some other dude’s revenge porn video, Mr. So-Called Nice Guy couldn’t pay the check fast enough so he could take me home and dump me.”
Just that much of the story had taken enough out of her. She wasn’t ready to share how the video had also cost her a job. Friends. It still amazed her howshe’dbeen judged when she’d been the victim of someone else’s crime.
“McKenna, I’m so damned sorry that happened to you.” Quinton’s voice was rough. As if he was struggling with some emotions too. “Thank you for trusting me enough to share your story with me.”
The wealth of sincerity in his voice touched her. Soothed—just a little bit—the wound that had been torn open repeatedly during the last eighteen months. How different might her experience have been if she’d had anyone in her life a year and a half ago who’d said those same words to her?
A rush of gratitude for his simple human goodness made her squeeze his hand tight. “I appreciate you saying that.”
Staring down at their joined palms, McKenna took in the size of his wrist next to hers, his fingers all but concealing hers where they wove together. The dark hairs visible on his forearm where the sleeve of his jacket had been pushed up. There was something so undeniably masculine about him. Something that made everything feminine inside her sit up and take notice.
Her breath quickened as she glanced up at him in the muted glow from a streetlamp. He’d angled toward her to give her his full attention, one shoulder brushing hers. His face so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek.
And suddenly, the need to thank him for listening—for caring—overwhelmed her. In her experience, that was no small thing.
Leaning closer, she allowed herself to do what she’d done every night in her dreams since they’d met. She slanted her mouth over Quinton Kingsley’s.
Then kissed him like he was the last man on earth and the future of the human race depended on the two of them.