*Charity left right after dinner. By eight thirty, the parking lot was empty. At nine, Quinn turned off all the lights and music, locked up the barn, put out the fire, and left the barn key underneath the Gallaghers’ back mat.
He drove back to his place with Noel on the seat beside him, making a call to Sam Melk as he drove. His call went to voice mail but he left a short message for Sam to call him back ASAP, confident Sam would.
He then thought of Charity and how cute she’d looked when she agreed to be his date for the gala. Her shy smile made him feel like he’d just asked her to the senior prom. She made him feel so good. Spending time with her was easy. Even in Wyoming, when they knew virtually nothing about each other, Quinn had been so comfortable, and so at ease in his own skin. From the first time they talked, he’d felt like himself… just better.
For the most part, he was a happy person, because happiness was a choice. Life was short—he’d learned that one young—and he wasn’t going to waste a single day on anger, bitterness, or resentment. No, he’d focus on the good things, and the good people, and just like that, he heard Charity’s voice in his head. If I’m home, I have to keep my hands busy.
Those words she’d spoken by the fire had made his chest tighten. His mom used to say the same thing. She would knit at night as they gathered in the family room, the news on for his dad, or a family-friendly show for the kids, and when she finished the dishes, and emerged from the kitchen, she’d sit in the corner of the sofa closest to his father’s chair, and knit away, needles clicking, yarn unraveling.
The click-click sound had always reassured him. It meant she was there with them. It meant she was finally off her feet and able to relax. His mom had worked harder than anyone he knew. She’d been a fantastic mother, and he’d never said it enough. But he was also sure that she knew, and that she understood just how deeply she was loved.
Moms were important. Women were important. No man should ever treat a woman badly, for any reason. In Quinn’s mind, intimidating women was nothing short of a crime.
Quinn was almost home when his phone rang. His Bluetooth announced Sam Melk. Good. Just the man he wanted to talk to. “Sam,” he said, as he turned up his long dark drive. “Thanks for calling me back. I know it’s getting late.”
“Always available for my friends and clients. My wife complains, but I work twenty-four seven,” Sam’s voice was cheerful and hearty. “I’m hoping you’re interested in selling your place, not that I want to lose you here but it’s something special—”
“No.” Quinn parked in front of his sprawling six-thousand-foot house and turned his engine off. The truck lights went out, too. It was pitch dark and Noel lifted his head, and glanced uneasily out the window. “Let’s just cut to the chase. Do you really not know that Greg is giving Charity a hard time? Does this strike a chord, or is this coming out of left field?”
“Probably no pun intended, huh?” Sam joked, before sighing. “Okay, I’ll be serious. I’m aware that there is considerable tension in the office. It’s actually pretty miserable for everyone right now.”
“This is your business and these are your employees, but I’m concerned about what’s going on, and have an issue with how Greg is treating Charity.”
“Has something specific happened?”
“Greg is putting his hands on her, and it needs to stop.”
“I agree.”
“I don’t want to have to step in, but if I need to, I’ll show him some good old-fashioned Montana diplomacy.”
“I remember your Montana diplomacy. I had bruises for a week.”
Noel shifted and rested his head on Quinn’s knee. Quinn gave the dog’s ear a little tug. “I’m sure you know how to handle your own employees, so I can leave this to you?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Thanks for your time, Sam. Good talk.”
“Good night.”
“Night.” Quinn hung up and stepped out of the truck. He called Noel’s name, patted his leg, and the retriever jumped out, following Quinn up the walkway.
Quinn made a mental note to leave his porch light on when he left the house in the morning for the Gallaghers. It grew dark early in Seattle this time of year, but here in Paradise Valley it was even darker without streetlights and big buildings to brighten the night sky. As he fumbled with his key in the front door’s dead bolt, his shoulder brushed something soft and cushy. He lifted a hand and touched it. Round. Some kind of greenery. And fabric.
Swinging the front door open, Quinn turned on the porch light and studied the oversized wreath with vintage silver, red and green glass balls. Someone had hung a wreath on his door.
Someone had given him a Christmas present. He suspected he knew who that someone was, too, as his sister-in-law Sadie loved everything vintage, and she was probably the craftiest person he’d ever met.
He was touched, really touched, and while it hadn’t crossed his mind to get anything festive for the house, it clearly needed a little bit of holiday charm. Impulsively he phoned Sadie to thank her for the present, but when she answered, she denied knowing anything about a wreath. “It sounds pretty, though,” she said. “Take a picture and send it to me.”
He did, and she texted back that it was even more beautiful than he’d described, and suggested that maybe he should check with Charity or McKenna.
He texted both, neither knew anything about it. Or so they claimed. Quinn didn’t know what to make of that.
Closing the front door, he gave Noel a brief tour of the downstairs. “Kitchen,” he said, turning on the light. “Dining room. Great room. Guest bath. Smaller family room. Downstairs guest bedroom down the hall.” The dog trailed Quinn obediently, going from room to room with him before they ended back up in the kitchen.
“I’m still hungry,” Quinn confessed.
Noel cocked his head.
“You look hungry, too,” Quinn added.
Noel’s head cocked the other way.
“You’re a good boy.” Quinn gave the dog’s head another pat. “I kind of like you. And it’s nice to have someone here to talk to.”
Quinn opened the refrigerator. It was virtually empty. On one shelf was a white Styrofoam take-out container from Rocco’s, and a half-eaten roast beef sandwich wrapped in paper was on another shelf, the sandwich left over from the day he drove from Jackson Hole. It might be time to buy some groceries and settle in since he was staying through Christmas.
Quinn went into the pantry, huge bottles of water lined the floor. Cleaning supplies. Not much else.
“We need to shop,” he told Noel. “Tomorrow we’ll get you some food. In the meantime, tonight we have Rocco’s leftover gnocchi and that roast beef. How about I do the gnocchi and you do the beef?”
Noel’s tail thumped once.
“Good answer,” Quinn replied. While the gnocchi warmed in the microwave, he filled a medium-size bowl with water for Noel and put it on the kitchen floor in the corner. The microwave dinged and he heated the meat from the sandwich for a few seconds so it wouldn’t be so cold. It didn’t take long for them to eat. There wasn’t much, and Quinn was ready to call it a night.
He took Noel out the back door, walked him to the snow-covered grass. “Go pee,” he said.
Noel walked around a moment, sniffing here and there before doing what he was told.
“Good boy,” Quinn praised him. “Now let’s see if we can get you to sleep.”
Upstairs in the huge master bedroom, Quinn made up a bed for Noel on the ground next to his bed. He took two quilts folded them and then added a fleece blanket on top. “Spot,” Quinn said, pointing to the blankets.
Noel hesitated and then went to the bed and circled once, and then again, before lying down.
“Good boy, good Noel,” Quinn praised him, climbing into his bed. Quinn turned out the light, punched the pillow a couple of times, and almost immediately fell asleep.
When he woke up in the morning, Noel was on the bed, sleeping next to him.
Quinn yawned and grinned. It seemed like Noel had made himself at home.
*
Charity woke up to a text from Quinn telling her that Rory was going to open the tree farm for him so he could get to town for some groceries, and since he was heading her way, why didn’t he meet her at the vet’s office with Noel?
Charity quickly answered that it was a great idea.
Quinn texted that he was leaving his house now, and asked her to send him the name of the veterinarian she used, as well as the address.
After sending him the name and address for Dr. Noah Sullivan’s practice in Marietta, she pulled her hair up into a ponytail, covered it with a shower cap and hopped in the shower.
Dressed, she filled a travel mug with hot coffee, said goodbye to her mom who was doing a Sudoku puzzle, then waved to her father who was watching morning news in front of the TV, and then headed out.
It was cold this morning but clear, the sky almost too bright for her eyes. Icicles hung from the eaves of the house and the windows of her car were covered in a thick, hard ice coat.
Charity scraped the ice from her windshield as her car warmed up. She was looking forward to seeing Quinn and couldn’t wait to hear how Noel had done last night. Hopefully, he hadn’t been too much trouble.
She arrived at Dr. Sullivan’s and discovered Quinn was already there, his black rental truck parked in front of the entrance.
She peeked inside his truck and saw it was empty and then went on in to the veterinary office. Carols played in the waiting area. A Christmas tree sat in the corner and mistletoe hung from the ceiling.
Opening the door she discovered Quinn at the front desk talking to the white-haired receptionist, who wore reindeer antlers, with Dr. Sullivan there, too, just behind the receptionist, while Noel lay on the ground at Quinn’s feet.
“Have I kept you waiting?” Charity asked anxiously.
Quinn shook his head. “No, I only got here a few minutes ago but he does have a microchip, only Dr. Sullivan didn’t need to use it. The staff here recognized Rusty right away.”
Rusty.
Her heart sank. So he did have an owner. She should be glad for Rusty.
“Will Dr. Sullivan notify the owner that we have Noel—Rusty?” she asked, trying to hide her disappointment.
“That’s the good news, bad news part,” Quinn said to her. “Rusty was a service dog, and his owner, Mary, lived here in town on Church Street. Mary passed away a couple of years ago and Rusty has taken it very hard. Although Rusty was placed almost right away with a new family, he’s proven difficult to rehome. The latest owners, a family that lives north of Livingston, don’t want him back. They vowed that if Rusty ran away again, they’d let him go. It’s too hard on their son every time Rusty leaves.”
“That makes me sad. Poor Rusty,” Charity said, stroking the top of the dog’s head. “It’s been years and yet he’s still looking for Mary.”
“That’s also a long way for him to walk,” Quinn added. “He’s lucky he hasn’t been hurt.”
Charity looked at the doctor. “So what happens to Rusty now?”
“You’ll need to take him to the animal shelter and they’ll see if they can find a new family for him, or…” His voice trailed off.
“I want him,” she said decisively. “I want to adopt him. How do I do that?”
“The county would say he still needs to go to the shelter—”
“No.” Her voice was firm. “I don’t trust those places.”
“Crawford County’s is better than most,” he answered.
“That’s not good enough for me or Rusty,” she said. “Can’t you reach out to the current owner and see if they would allow me to adopt him? Or give me the number and I’ll call them? He’s a loving dog and I think he just needs a home in Marietta.”
“He might still wander,” Quinn warned her.
She looked down into Rusty’s warm brown eyes. He gazed steadily back at her, his tail thumping. “But he might not,” she answered, petting him. “He might be happy with me.”
“First, we should get him checked out. Make sure he’s healthy.” Quinn glanced at Noah. “Can you do a physical? See if there is anything we should be worried about.”
Charity heard how Quinn said we. If there is anything we should be worried about.
His words warmed her. She liked having him on her team. “That’s probably smart,” she agreed.
“Can we leave him here now, or do we need to make an appointment?”
“We could take him now. But if you’re not planning on boarding him for the night, be back before we close.”
“He needs to be fed,” Quinn added. “I’ll pick up a bag of whatever food you recommend, but he hasn’t eaten this morning, and he only had people food last night.”
“We’ll take care of Rusty,” Noah promised. “And we’ll make some calls and let you know what his current owners want to do.”
Charity gave Rusty a hug and told him she’d be back for him in just a couple of hours. Quinn left his number with the front desk, and asked that he be called as soon as they had any news, one way or the other.
Outside the office, Charity faced Quinn. “Thank you,” she said gratefully. “For all your help with Noel.”
The corner of his mouth curled. “You’re not going to call him Rusty?”
“He answers to Noel.”
He laughed. “You’re something,” he said, drawing her into his arms and holding her there a moment before releasing her. “I better get to the Gallaghers. It’s supposed to be very busy today.”
She’d liked being in his arms. She’d felt good there. “I’m going to be working on the tree,” she said.
“I’ll let you know when Rusty can be picked up.”
“Can I bring him to you?”
“I think you should.”
He reached for his keys but he didn’t walk away.
She couldn’t make herself leave, either. “Quinn?”
“Yes?” he answered, his gaze locking with hers.
She felt lost in his eyes, and she held her breath as emotions washed over her. She liked him. She liked him so much. Did he have any idea how she truly felt? Finally, she exhaled and then said, “For the record, I like being on your team.”
His jaw eased and his smile was crooked. “For the record, I do, too.”
Charity thought about Quinn and Noel all day, and she itched to go see Quinn but she would never get Amanda’s dress done, or the tree decorations made, if she kept running around instead of staying in one place and working.
She was about to call Dr. Sullivan’s office when Quinn phoned her. “I’ve just heard from Noah. They want to keep Rusty Noel overnight,” he said.
“Why?”
“Noah has to file some paperwork with the county, and he needs to have Rusty there when he processes the paperwork requesting adoption. It’s a county ordinance.”
“Noel is not going to like being there all night.”
“I know, and it’s frustrating, but it’s just for the night. We should be able to pick him up in the morning.”
“Okay,” she said, reluctantly, trying not to feel discouraged. She was tired and lonely and she really wished she and Quinn could have more together time. She felt like she was only seeing him in little stolen moments now and then. “So how is it going there?”
“Great. Slammed. We’ve gone through so much stock. It’s getting a little thin in the yard. Sawyer said we might need to go to the back lot and get some more trees.”
“You sound excited about that.”
“It is kind of exciting. I like the work. Speaking of work, I better go. It’s hectic here at the moment. I’m sorry.”
“No, that’s okay. Just take care of yourself.”
“You, too.” And then he hung up.
*
Charity spent Sunday morning in Bozeman buying ornaments and the craft supplies she needed for the Gallaghers’ tree. She was just finishing shopping when she got a text from Quinn that she could go pick up Rusty.
She returned to Marietta and collected the retriever who was delighted to see her, and together they headed out to the Gallaghers.
The tree lot was filled with families and Quinn was being pulled in so many directions that he nodded at Charity but couldn’t break away to talk. Hoping that things would slow, Charity went into the Gallaghers’ cute log cabin house and visited with Jenna while they made a batch of Grandma Gallagher’s famous sugar cookies before Charity took another walk around the festive barn, still hoping Quinn could break free, but it didn’t happen.
She bundled her arms across her chest and exhaled. She missed Quinn. She missed being alone with Quinn. She missed feeling special and important to him.
And there was nothing inside of her that just wanted to be his friend.
She wanted to be his, and only his, and she wanted him to be hers. It was time he knew that, too. It was time they figured out their relationship and she’d been the one holding back but she was done playing it safe.
Charity checked that Noel was safe with Jenna and Sawyer, before returning to her car and driving home.
Rather than dwell on the fact that Quinn had been too busy to spend time with her, she’d just tackle her very long to-do list, and at the top of her list, was painting tiny red dashes to look like thread on the four-dozen ping-pong balls.
By midafternoon she’d painted all the balls and washed her brushes and was plugging in her glue gun to take on the next task when Quinn called.
“Your sister and her husband have just shown up here,” he said, “and they’re cutting me loose. Apparently they spoke to Rory and Sawyer and they’ve all conspired to send me away from here. I have to leave, now, and I’ve been given strict orders to go do something fun.”
“Those are your instructions? To do something fun?”
“Yes. That’s why I’m calling you. I need your help. Can you possibly think of something fun we could do together?”
Warmth rushed through her and she found herself smiling. “Well, you could come over here and hot glue ribbons onto plastic sleeves with me.”
“Hmm, I wouldn’t call that fun.”
“We could grocery shop.”
“Definitely not fun.”
“Wrap gifts?”
“I’m really beginning to think you don’t know how to play.”
She smiled at his scolding tone. “Or… we could do something boring like ice skate.”
“Funny girl. I’m leaving here now to pick you up as Miracle Lake is calling.”
She unplugged the glue gun, got to her feet and stretched. “You don’t have to come all the way into town. I can meet you there.”
“No, I’ve missed you. I look forward to catching up.”
“What about Rusty Noel?”
“He can stay here. He loves all the activity and attention he gets. I’ll get him on my way home.”
*
Quinn pulled up to the small blue house on Chance Avenue and called Charity. “I’m out front,” he said, when she answered. “Shall I come to the door? I’d like to say hello to your dad. It’s been a long time since high school.”
“Maybe next time,” she said, sounding anxious. “Dad is watching some crime show and Mom is napping and Mom never sleeps so I’d just as soon let her keep sleeping.”
“Okay, I’ll just wait out here then.”
“I won’t be long. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
He left the truck engine running, and used the time to study her neighborhood. The street didn’t look as rough as it had been when he was in school, but Chance Avenue was still shabby. Houses were small. The fences dividing properties were mostly chain link. Dirty snow piled in the driveways and along the curb. The Wrights’ house was blue, and the paint was peeling off in places. There were no shutters at the windows. Nothing about the front yard, or steps, inspired confidence. It was winter, and Montana took a beating in winter, but there could have been some charm somewhere.
It couldn’t have been easy for Charity and her sisters to go to Marietta High, knowing that just one street over were all the big, handsome turn-of-the-century houses on Bramble, and that her school was filled with students that had so much more.
Charity might not care about material things, but the lack of material things had shaped her.
The front door suddenly opened and Charity came bounding down the steps and over to the truck, skates in her hand.
He climbed out of the truck and went round to open her door. She thanked him before getting in, adding, “It took me a minute to clean up my mess and then find my skates. This is the first time I’ve skated this year so they were still put away.”
Settling into her seat, Charity clutched the battered skates to her chest and gave him a blindingly bright smile. “I’m so excited we’re doing this.”
Quinn had known he was falling for her for a long time. He’d been drawn to her immediately when they first met, and every moment they spent together—or even apart—only cemented his feelings, but it was the moment she flashed her bright, beautiful smile, and told him how excited she was to skate, he knew he loved her. He hadn’t just fallen in love with her, but he loved her.
She was undemanding and selfless and cheerful and kind and it killed him that she asked for so little, when she deserved the sun and the moon and all the stars.
“It’s going to be dark soon,” he said, once he was back in the driver’s seat, “but I heard they’ve installed lighting now.”
She nodded. “They did that a couple years ago. But everything else is pretty much the same.”
“I’ll need to rent skates,” he said.
“The skate shack will be open.”
“Let’s go then.”
*
It wasn’t as crowded at Miracle Lake as Charity had expected. Most of the families with younger kids were gone, leaving the frozen lake to teenagers and adults, which was a good thing as Quinn had decided to challenge Charity to a skate-off, wanting to prove he was the superior skater and then doing everything in his power to keep her from winning their races—even if it meant relying on some underhanded tactics.
Fortunately, even with his tactics she was still beating him half the time. “You are unbelievably competitive,” she said, laughing and gulping in air as she slowly glided around the rink, letting her burning muscles cool. “Maybe it’s time you accepted that I just might be better than you.”
“Not going to happen,” he flashed, giving her a lethal smile as he caught her hands and drew her toward him.
“Your baseball contracts don’t let you ski,” she said, as he skated backward, and her skates moved inside his so they glided effortlessly across the ice. “But skating is fine.”
“I’m sure it’s probably not encouraged, but I don’t remember it being part of paragraph 5b.”
“What else can’t you do?”
“Sky diving, rock climbing, hang gliding, motorcycle riding, boxing, auto racing, spelunking, snowmobiling, and participating in rodeos.”
“So skating is okay?”
“I’d only get in trouble if I got hurt.”
“In that case, let’s get you skating forward, just to be on the safe side. Life is hard enough without adding in the element of danger.”
He changed his hold and did an easy turn so that he now skated next to her. “What’s hard about life?”
She flashed to her childhood and her memories of growing up and the daily struggle to just get by, without being hungry or uncomfortable or humiliated for not being groomed enough, or good enough. She’d never forget the day in second grade when someone told her in the morning lineup that she smelled, reeking like pee, and by the time they were allowed in to the classroom, all the kids were whispering that she’d peed her pants, but Charity hadn’t.
Her teacher even pulled her aside and sniffed her, and then sniffed her coat and backpack. The backpack was fine, but the coat and the sweater beneath did reek of pee. Charity was mortified. Even more mortified when her mother came to school with clean clothes. Charity begged her mother to let her go home with her but her mother said she had to stay.
It wasn’t until it happened again, that she understood her dad was getting so drunk he was mistaking the laundry basket for a urinal.
“Life wasn’t easy when I was growing up,” she said to Quinn. “It was unpredictable—for years. I craved safety. People I could count on. Situations that were stable. Change represented chaos, and chaos was pain.”
They circled the rink again, the blades on their skates scraping the ice. “Was there anything that made you feel safe when you were a little girl?” he asked after a moment.
She didn’t even need to think about it. “My sisters. Jenny and Mandy. I wouldn’t even be me without them.”
“I feel that way about Rory and McKenna,” he said.
She gave his hand a little squeeze. “You all went through so much. You lost so much.”
“I got off lucky, though, compared to Rory,” he answered. “He saw it all. He returned to find the aftermath, and because of that, he has horrific images burned in his brain. I know I was injured and had to physically recover, but I never suffered quite the same way he did. He once told me to avoid the papers and to never look at the crime-scene photos, and I took his advice. Why would I want those horrific images to become my memories?”
“Rory is smart,” she said. “And I love that he and Sadie found each other.”
“Rory struggled to move forward. Sadie is helping him,” he agreed.
Charity was silent for a moment. “That’s my problem. I can’t seem to get solid forward momentum, and Jenny once told me it’s because at some point in my life I circled the wagons to protect me. But because of that, I’ve never been able to move on and accomplish the things I want to because I’m still in one spot, wagons circled, rifles drawn, waiting for the next attack.” She shrugged. “I was mad at her when she said that, but she’s right. It’s why I’m still at home. It’s why I didn’t go to New York to study design. It’s why I doubt myself so much.”
Quinn pulled her to the side, out of the way of the other skaters. “You played it safe because you had to play it safe, and there’s nothing wrong with that. You were doing what you thought was necessary to survive.”
“But I’m tired of playing it safe. I want more from life. I love fashion, I love beautiful clothes, I want to have my own business one day, and maybe that’s not practical—”
“But why does every choice have to be practical?” he interrupted. “Why not do things because it’s just fun?” Quinn gestured to the ice rink and the couples skating. “We’re not here because it’s practical. We’re here because it’s fun. I love spending time with you because it feels good to be with you. Is it practical? Probably not. But do I want to be with you as much as I can while I’m here in Montana? Absolutely.”
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because you make me happy. Being with you makes me happy. And as we both know, life can be hard, and there are no guarantees, so we have to make the most of every single day we’re given.”
“Seize the day,” she murmured.
“Live every day as if it’s your last,” he replied.
She felt almost overwhelmed by emotion. She nodded, finding it impossible to speak.
“What do you say we get something warm to drink?” he suggested.
“Good idea,” she said, taking the hand he offered and following him off the ice.
They waited in line to buy cups of hot chocolate and Charity laughed when Quinn asked for extra mini marshmallows on his. He glanced at her, eyebrow raised. “Want extra marshmallows on yours?”
She started to shake her head and then changed her mind. “Yes, actually. That would be lovely.”
They found a place near the ice to sit, and Quinn drew her close to his hip, his arm around her as they sipped their chocolate and watched others skate.
“I think you need to make yourself a priority,” he said after a moment. “Put together a business plan and make your shop a reality. There’s no reason you can’t have your own business here.”
“Oh, are you going to invest in me and Little Teton now?” she teased.
“Maybe.”
“I’m not sure fashion and Marietta go hand in hand.”
“There is a lot of money in this area. Beautiful clothes are always in demand, and before you tell me that I don’t know anything about couture, my great-great-great-aunt, Johanna Douglas, was Marietta’s first fashion designer. She had a shop on Main Street named Johanna Design in the 1880’s. If she could have a shop, why can’t you?”
Charity’s mouth opened and then closed. “Is that true?”
“The library has a display of old photographs and you can see a picture of Johanna Douglas in front of her shop with her mother, and her brother, Sinclair Douglas, who was my great-great-great-grandfather.”
“That’s very cool.”
“If a young, Irish immigrant could open up her own shop in frontier Marietta, you can, too.”
“Thank you for your confidence,” she said, smiling up at him. She felt so happy right now, happy and calm and optimistic. It had been a long time since she felt so optimistic. Maybe it was time to stop being afraid of everything. Maybe it was time to face her fears head-on.
“I haven’t been honest with you,” she said quietly.
“No?” he said, giving her a quizzical look before stretching out his long legs, and crossing his skates at the ankle.
“No, and I’m sorry about that and I didn’t mean to be dishonest with you. I think it happened because I haven’t been honest with myself.” She looked up into his face, and her eyes met his. Her head felt a bit fuzzy as his gaze locked with hers. “Quinn, I don’t think of you as a friend. I’m not even sure what it means to be on your team because if being teammates means being buddies, I don’t want that. I won’t ever be your drinking buddy or your wingman because it would kill me to go out on a date with you, and not be your date.”
He lifted a brow, his expression amused, but he said nothing. Silence stretched, and Charity stirred on the bench, feeling the frantic flutter of butterflies in her middle.
“Are you ready for another confession?” she asked after a moment.
“I think I can handle the shock.”
She glanced at him swiftly and he was grinning, and she smiled crookedly, unable to resist him when he smiled at her.
“Go on,” he said. “I’ve braced myself.”
“I’m wildly attracted to you.”
“Wildly?” he repeated.
She nodded. “Like… yes.” She drew another swift, sharp breath, determined to get through this and just lay all her cards on the table. “My feelings aren’t easy to manage anymore, either. I thought if we kept things… platonic… I’d be okay around you. But my feelings just keep getting stronger, and I’m beginning to realize they’re not going to go away.”
“I’m just glad you’re figuring out what I already know.”
“And what is that?”
“That you’re meant to be mine.”
“How can you know that when we’ve had so little actual romance?”
“Every minute I spend with you is romantic.”
Heat rushed through her, and her pulse drummed. “And yet we only had that one little kiss in Wyoming.”
His broad shoulders shifted. “But it was a good one.”
She felt a funny little flutter in her middle and just talking about kissing made her lips tingle. “It was a good kiss. So good that sometimes all I can think about is kissing you again—”
The rest of her words were cut off by his mouth covering hers. His hand cupped her nape, and his thumb stroked her cheek and his lips felt even more amazing than she remembered.
Quinn didn’t hurry the kiss either. He took his time, deepening the kiss, parting her lips, and Charity was gone, lost in the pleasure, lost in him.
When he finally lifted his head, her heart pounded and her skin prickled and Charity gazed into his eyes thinking yes, yes, this was the one she’d been waiting for.