Chapter Nine

“We’re having pizza later,” Eliot said, exiting his apartment and catching Quinn hauling a bag to the garbage chute. “Why don’t you come over and watch the ballgame?”

She joined them at an Italian bistro a few days ago, but now he was shifting the venue to his apartment. The closest she came to entering his place was hanging around his doorway. Staying near her apartment, she chatted while trying to peek past him. He blocked her view, letting her imagine his home as a dingy man cave.

He dropped his sister’s hand and took the bag from Quinn. Not long ago, he spent leisure time lifting weights and chasing women. Now he hauled garbage and read bedtime stories of dancing fairies. Domesticity had trampled a victory dance over his sacred bachelorhood.

“So, pizza and ball tonight?” he repeated.

Quinn smiled at his sister. “You like baseball?”

Raine glanced at her feet. “I like the mascots,” she said.

“Did you know not all teams have mascots?”

Here we go again. Quinn had changed the subject, stalling while figuring out how to say no. Fine, he grumbled to himself. He’d employ his own effective tactic. Yup, he’d beg. Pleading would be demeaning, but what other option was there? He longed for adult company. He also longed for sex, but that ship had sailed and sank.

“I made a deal with Raine,” he said to Quinn. “I agreed to watch cartoons, providing she watches sports with me. Last week, due to a doubleheader, I binged through a series on smack-talking reptiles.” He winked. “Don’t tell anyone, but those dudes are hilarious.”

A laugh escaped her lips. His charms were working.

“So, you in?”

“Baseball’s not my thing.”

His smile dropped. No way he would watch a sappy chick flick. Sprinkles would have to be butt-naked on his sofa for that to happen.

She opened the garbage chute. “I prefer contact sports like hockey and boxing.”

He pushed the bag down the shaft. “Right.”

“Can’t beat the sweet science. I belong to a boxing club.” She walked toward her apartment.

He hurried behind her. “You’re messing with me.”

She huffed and turned. “Not all women inside the ring wear bikinis and carry cards. There are many successful female boxers.”

His dimples exploded. “You spar?” He pictured Quinn in a plunging tank top with tiny, tight shorts hugging her perfect ass.

“Absolutely.” Confidence coated her voice. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you pictures.”

“No,” he stammered when she whipped out her phone. He’d love to flip through the photos, but not here in this hallway with his sister and not while wearing thin sweatpants.

“I’m pretty decent at it.”

“I’ll be mindful you’re able to kick…” He paused and glanced at Raine. “My butt,” he finished saying. “Now, getting back to my question, will you join us for the game?”

“Pizza with lactose-free cheese?”

“You bet,” he said, eager to please her.

****

He didn’t need detective skills to figure out what was happening. Her mannerism spoke volumes. Before she stepped into his apartment, she scanned the place, checking for danger. But homicidal psychopaths didn’t leave chloroform and chains on their coffee tables. They used puppies to lure children and offered roofied appletinis to unsuspecting women. He’d love to say, don’t fret, but that was the sort of thing a creepy dude with a van would say.

Raine bounded into the room, resolving his predicament. His sister squealed and raced to hug their neighbor. The tension dropped tenfold from Quinn’s shoulders.

If his instincts were right—and often they were—what happened wasn’t personal. Quinn wasn’t just scared to be alone with him. She was afraid to be alone with any guy. Somewhere in her life, she encountered a bad man. Jerks who harmed kids and women were society’s bottom feeders. He erased his scowl. He couldn’t alter his past. Likewise, he couldn’t change hers.

“Here, this is for you.” Quinn shoved a lemonade bottle into his hand.

He accepted, understanding the bottle’s dual function—as a drink and a weapon. He wished he could say, It’s fine. I plan to keep my hands to myself. You won’t need to bash my head and escape. But that wasn’t the icebreaker he aimed for.

“Can I take…” He glanced, noticing she wasn’t wearing a coat. She came from across the hall, not blocks away. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and backed away, allowing her space to move about. The women who came to his apartment never needed a large pathway. As soon as he unlocked the door, they were on top of him. “Shit,” he hollered. He ran off, disappearing into the kitchen.

“Is everything okay?” Quinn shouted.

“All good.” His voice strained with emotion.

He returned a moment later and found Quinn seated at the dining room table, coloring alongside Raine. “I forgot to lock the butcher knife in the drawer,” he confessed.

Raine rolled her eyes. “I’m not a baby.”

“Yeah, I know.” His sister had become comfortable voicing her opinion. “I’m not good with age-specific abilities,” he told Quinn. “There’s loads of information on the internet. It’s hard sorting the BS from the truth.”

Quinn rose and wandered through his living room. Eliot followed her.

“Raine’s a bright kid,” Quinn said as she stared at his sofa.

Did she expect rusted camping chairs and a table made from empty beer cases? “She is, but I should know better than leaving sharp objects around. Accidents happen. Raine likes you. You’re a natural with kids.”

Quinn gazed at the plush toys on the coffee table. They were arranged in a circle with plastic teacups in the middle. “I never envisioned your place like this.”

“I might have gone overboard on the kid stuff.”

“No, it’s great.” She grabbed a cushion and squeezed it. “Panda bear pillows are a hot décor item this year.”

He shot her a playful sneer. “Want a glass of that lemonade you brought? I have three kinds of milk and apple juice as well. Sorry, but I don’t have any booze.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Me neither.” At least not since my last shit-faced episode.

“The lemonade’s fine.”

When he returned with her drink, she was again seated with Raine. He peered over Quinn’s shoulder. She had drawn an elaborate tree house beside his sister’s lopsided butterfly.

You love coloring, don’t you, munchkin?” Eliot asked.

Raine lifted her chin.

“Maybe you’ll grow up to be an artist,” he said, addressing his sister. “They tend to be antisocial, but once you get them to interact, they’re fun.”

“What’s aunty socal?” Raine asked.

“It means choosing to be alone,” Quinn replied.

“Oh,” Raine said and resumed coloring.

Eliot grabbed a notepad and joined them. He drew a stick person with a yellow crayon, wrote Quinn’s name below, and slid the paper to Raine. “Pretty good, huh?”

She glanced up.

“Right. I missed something.” He took the drawing and drew two more figures, one small and the other more prominent. He pointed to a bold long line. “That’s me. The smaller, prettier ones are you and Quinn.”

A rosy hue spread over Quinn’s cheeks. He loved making her blush.

The doorbell buzzed. Raine jumped. Unexpected noises still made his little sister uneasy, but she no longer cried. “It’s the pizza guy,” he announced and strode to the door.

“Wow. You ordered a lot,” Quinn remarked as he hauled three large boxes to the table.

“I didn’t know what you like, so I got two with weird vegan cheese and Raine’s favorite.”

“As long as there’s no dairy in the cheese, I’ll eat anything.”

“You’re good with olives and spinach?”

Quinn scrunched her nose. “Eww, I’m not a monster.”

He flipped a box open, tossed a pizza slice onto a plate, and slid it to his sister. “Eat up, little Frankenstein.”

Quinn’s jaw dropped. “You like olives and spinach?” she said to Raine.

She nodded and stuffed the crust’s edge into her mouth.

After dinner, Eliot coaxed Quinn and Raine into the living room for the ballgame. Raine carried her crayons and a sketch pad to the coffee table. Quinn sat next to his sister and began drawing.

“Who’s that?” he asked during a commercial break, pointing at Quinn’s caricature, which he bore a close resemblance to.

“He’s the sidekick from the turtle cartoon.”

Raine ruined the lie by giggling. Her infectious laugh led to Quinn snorting.

Eliot started to feel like an adolescent boy. His stupid heart skipped a beat whenever he was in the same room as Quinn. Her smile was so damn pretty that he couldn’t take his eyes off her. And now that weird snort made him want to kiss her. There was no end to the agony of celibacy.

By the fifth inning, both girls were heavy-eyed.

“The game will pick up,” he reassured, stifling his yawn.

At the top of the sixth inning, Quinn undid her ponytail. The innocent act drew attention to her dark waves cascading above her breasts. Breasts he ought to ignore.

By the seventh, Raine had fallen asleep. He glanced at his sister snuggled beside him, her blonde ringlets dangling on his lap.

He ought to wake her and send her to bed. But Raine would want a story like she did every night, and Quinn would head home. He enjoyed hanging out with a friend, especially one with a beautiful face and dangerous curves. Sprinkles was a minefield for a man intent on making good decisions.

Now the bottom of the eighth, Raine hadn’t stirred for ten minutes. He inched toward Quinn. Her enticing aroma filled his lungs as he breathed. Waves of desire washed over him. He had encountered many women who soaked themselves in heavy perfume. This was delicate, like a shampoo or a body lotion. For a moment, he was speechless.

“Hey,” he whispered. “I’m putting Raine to bed. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll go.”

“C’mon, Sprinkles, stay for the rest of the game.”

“It’s late.”

“It’s not even eight. There’s one inning left. Baseball is all about the ninth. Pitches whizzing across the plate. Bats swinging. Players sliding into base. You don’t want to miss the action.”

“Okay, but if this game doesn’t pick up, you’ll have another person falling asleep on you.”

He smirked. Carrying Quinn to bed—his bed—would be a hell of a lot more fun than baseball.

Stop before you drool, fool.

With his little sister in the house, he better stick to a PG-rated script. Besides, casual sex wouldn’t be Quinn’s MO, and relationships weren’t his.

Eliot carried Raine like spun sugar. Although resigned to a chaste evening, he still yearned for Quinn’s company. Raine crawled into bed. He covered her with a soft blanket.

“Snuggles,” his sister mumbled.

He glanced around the room and found Snuggles, her toy unicorn. He tucked the stuffed animal beside Raine and kissed her forehead. Though his sister was damn near perfect, being responsible for another person was hard. He lost count of how many times he screwed up. Often, he headed to bed exhausted.

He clicked on the nightlight and switched off the lamp. “I’ll do better tomorrow,” he whispered.

He returned to the living room and found Quinn yawning. He loved a good ballgame, but this wasn’t one. He plunked down on the sofa, sitting in the same spot as earlier.

Quinn straightened in the armchair and tucked a leg underneath her bottom. “Raine seems to sleep well.”

“Yeah, for the most part.” He remembered how he awoke to his sister’s screams every night for two solid weeks. Her horrific nightmares still occurred, but they didn’t happen as often. “It’s okay she didn’t brush her teeth tonight?”

“Of course. Cavities don’t happen suddenly.”

He glanced at Raine’s room.

Quinn leaned over and tapped his arm. “You’re doing good.” Though brief, her touch was like a blanket on a chilly night.

“I’m trying, but I still screw up.”

“You’re too hard on yourself. I’m sure Raine doesn’t expect you to be perfect.”

He smiled, appreciating Quinn’s kind words. He strove for excellence, not because of pride or ego, but because his sister deserved a good life.

“Thanks for sticking around. Raine’s awesome, but occasionally I get tired of kid stuff. I don’t get much adult time, and frankly, I’m unsure what I’d do if I did.”

“What did you do for fun before Raine came along?”

He flashed a mischievous grin. Seeing Quinn’s frown, he decided not to go there.

“I shouldn’t complain,” Eliot said. “Watching the same cartoon over and over makes Raine happy. I need to be patient. She’s been through a lot.”

“Why are you raising your sister?”

His gaze shot to the postgame analysis. “Wanna watch something else?”

“Eliot,” her voice softened, “what happened to Raine’s mother?”

“She’s sick,” he mumbled. He wasn’t lying. Carly was one sick woman.

“I’m sorry. Will she get better?”

He grabbed the TV remote and flicked through the channels. “How about this?” he asked, referring to a nature show with a lion chasing a wildebeest.

“Where’s your dad?”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s not Raine’s biological father.” He kept his tone even. “My sister’s dad, whoever he may be, has never been part of her life.”

“Oh, I assumed you had the same father but not the same mother. You’re—”

“Old?” He chuckled, easing the tightness in his chest. “There’s a twenty-four-year difference between Raine and me.”

“Your mom must have been—”

“Too young. She was sixteen when she had me and forty with Raine. I’m twenty-nine now, and Raine’s five. Enough with the math lesson. So how did you end up in New York? You’re from Chicago, right?”

“After I left college, I moved to the Big Apple with a friend.”

“A male friend?”

“Gabby. You met her a few weeks ago.”

“You plan to stick around?”

“I like it here.”

“Yeah, my apartment is nice.”

“I like New York,” she clarified, stone-faced. “I returned to Chicago when Mom’s cancer metastasized but left after she passed. Dad’s still in Chicago. He travels a lot for work. He’s in New York once a month, so we visit then.”

He turned off the television. “I’m sorry, Sprinkles.”

“It has been a rough year. Having a creative outlet helps. I’m fortunate to have a great job. What about you?”

“You saw my stick drawings. I’m not the artsy type.”

“No, not that. The other day, you said you would return to work in September.”

“Yeah, my boss gave me the summer off. I’m not sure how Raine will adjust. She’s starting kindergarten this year. I’m concerned about how she’ll do with the other kids. She’s still anxious around new people.”

“Where do you work?”

“Did I mention I found a kindergarten school a few blocks away? I’m taking Raine for a tour and orientation next week. I’m not sure how she’ll adapt, but I checked their website and—”

“Eliot,” she snapped, “I asked about your job.”

“Why are you pissed?”

“Why are you so secretive?”

“I’m not,” he lied.

Quinn eyed the door. “I noticed the bulge when we first met.”

He sputtered a cough. “The day you ran me over in the hallway?”

“Yes,” she barked.

“You bent over to gather the rubber sprinkles. What can I say? I loved the view.”

“I’m done.” She rose, cringing as she bumped the coffee table with her leg.

“Don’t go.” He regretted his asshole remark. “I’ll answer your question.”

She rubbed her knee. “I’m not comfortable staying.”

“I’m sorry about the stupid comment, but please let me explain.”

She marched to the hallway door, opened it, and waited. She was no fool.

He stayed where he was. “You’re right. I was carrying a concealed weapon.” He took a deep breath. “I’m with the police force.”

Her mouth dropped. “You’re a cop?”

He stepped around her and closed the door. “Detective,” he clarified.

“But why didn’t you say so?”

“I’m with the Counterterrorism Bureau. It’s not something you go around telling people.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry, Eliot.”

“Don’t be.”

“I would never have imagined—”

“Yeah, I get it. I don’t look the part.”

“Are the tattoos part of your cover?”

“If you’re asking if they scrub off, no. They’re permanent.” Wrinkles spread across his forehead. “I’m sorry about the smart mouth.”

She waved her hand as though she wasn’t bothered by what had happened. Quinn was far more gracious than he deserved.

“I’ll make you the same deal I made with Raine,” Eliot said. “She, too, was unsure about me.” A nervous laugh escaped his mouth. “Okay, that’s an understatement. She was terrified. I tried being patient, but little changed after several weeks. Her cowering when I got near her tore me apart.”

“What did you do?”

“First, I took her little hands.” Eliot settled his fingers over Quinn’s chipped nail polish. Her soft, delicate hands trembled under his touch. He stared into her whiskey eyes. How had he never noticed the gold hue around her pupils? For a moment, he imagined confessing all his secrets. Would his burden be lessened, or would he feel like he jumped from a cliff-bound car only to be hit by oncoming traffic? He shoved the unsettling thought aside. “Dear, Sweet Girl,” he said, lowering his husky voice. “I’ll always tell you the truth, no matter what. I swear I’ll never hurt you, and if anyone makes you cry, I’ll destroy them.”

Quinn gulped. “Those were your exact words?”

“Yeah, except I didn’t say destroy. But you get the gist. This goes for you too.” He inched closer. “You’ll always be safe when I’m around.”

The air thickened. Their lips were mere inches apart. Tasting paradise was a sliver of wind away. He dropped Quinn’s hand like a burning log. “We’re good? Still friends?” he asked.

****

She threw herself onto her bed. What in the world happened next door?

She was always careful of her surroundings. Except for walking Hudson, she didn’t go out alone at night. She would never have gone to a man’s apartment, and technically she didn’t. This was his sister’s home too. She ensured Raine was there before she entered the place. She had accepted Eliot’s invitation for pizza by convincing herself he worked as a bodyguard, perhaps for some celebrity. A studio executive hired him to protect an obnoxious teen star. But when he evaded her questions, her stomach knotted. She was trapped in a stranger’s home with a man who might be a mob enforcer or a drug lord. But then the truth came out. Her jaw dropped, darn near denting the floor. Not once did she ever picture Eliot as a cop. Thankfully, he wasn’t perturbed by the silent accusation etched on her face. He apologized for his stupid joke about his bulging pants. And he went beyond atoning for the remark when he said he’d never hurt her and would always tell her the truth. She had heard such declarations before, but this time, the man delivering the words seemed sincere. When Eliot clasped her hand, she felt the frost on her heart dissolve, and a fiery sensation ignited her flesh.

Her attraction toward him began weeks ago, but she didn’t do bad boys, so she shoved her emotions aside. But now, learning he was a police officer, she could no longer ignore the chemistry. She wondered how it would feel to caress his cheek, to press her mouth against his, and melt into his embrace.

She swore she caught him stealing glances during the ballgame. Perhaps there was a desire on his part too.

Sure. The desire to stop a silly-assed woman from fleeing like a roadrunner on amphetamines. And what was she thinking? Fleeing would be stupid. He knew where she lived.

But Eliot wasn’t interested in chasing or locking her inside his apartment. He simply wanted to talk. And boy, did he. How he spoke—and what he said—tingled inside her belly. But before she could swoon, he dropped her hand like a greasy sledgehammer.

She had made the situation weird with her stupid little fantasy. Holding her gaze meant nothing. Eliot wasn’t interested. Desperate for adult companionship, he would welcome a crazed cat lady into his home if she were willing to chat. The reason she received an invite was a matter of availability. Her social life sucked.

Why not be Eliot’s sidekick?

Hanging with him was better than being the third wheel in Gabby’s life. Eliot loved boxing and hockey, and she could learn to enjoy baseball. There were other pluses too. He didn’t drink, he liked dogs—including her disloyal hound—and he made her laugh. A perfect friend. If only she could stop visualizing her hand following his snake tattoo down his body.