All It Takes

by Proby, Kristen

  “Why me?”

  He sighs, still watching me in that sober way that makes my heart feel tender. “The only way I can describe it is, I saw you for the first time, and I knew my life would never be the same. You are seated squarely in the heart of my being, Sienna.”

  “What a lovely thing to say,” I murmur.

  “I want to have my way with you, right here in my kitchen.”

  I grin and kiss him again, then he reaches his lips up to mine, and I nuzzle his nose.

  “The meat will burn, so you’ll have to wait for kitchen sex until after dinner.”

  “I could eat my brownie off you,” he says with a sly smile. “That would make it taste even better.”

  “Not with ice cream.” I bite his lower lip. “That would be too cold.”

  His hand glides up my inner thigh, to the hem of my cutoffs, and I shiver.

  “You like that?” he asks.

  “No time for this,” I remind him, but I’m not pushing him away. I’m not stupid, after all.

  “I’m going to eat your tacos,” he says, and I can’t help but laugh.

  “Is that a euphemism for my pussy?”

  “Fuck yes it is.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  ~Sienna~

  I smell warm brownies and coffee.

  Am I still dreaming? Because if I am, I don’t want to wake up.

  I open one eye into a curious slit, and sure enough, there’s Quinn wearing only pajama bottoms, holding a tray of brownies and coffee.

  “Good, you’re awake,” he says. He’s such a morning person. Happy and ready to go first thing, and it takes me a good hour to wake up fully.

  However, I will admit that he’s not annoying with his morning personness, and for that, I’m grateful.

  “You’re feeding me brownies in bed,” I murmur as I pull myself up, sitting against his gray tufted headboard.

  “It’s Sunday,” he replies, as if that explains everything, and sets the tray in the middle of the bed, then climbs on to join me. Before passing me my mug, he leans over to kiss me. “Good morning.”

  “Mm, good morning.” I gratefully accept the cup of caffeine and take a sip, sighing as it hits my bloodstream. “I could get used to Sundays like this.”

  “I hope so,” he replies and opens the newspaper that was also on the tray.

  “You read a real newspaper,” I comment in surprise.

  “I stare at screens enough all day long, I’d rather read the Sunday paper the old-fashioned way.”

  I take a bite of chocolate goodness and watch him thoughtfully. “I like you.”

  “That’s good, since I’ve fallen head over heels for you.” He drags his palm up and down my naked thigh. This man is constantly touching me.

  It’s awesome.

  “What I’m saying is, not only do I love you, but I like you. Quite a lot.”

  “Good.” He kisses my shoulder, takes a bite of my brownie, and goes back to reading his paper. “I figured it would be okay if we got a bit of a late start today.”

  “Yeah. I have to tell you, I’m ready to get back to my weekends off. I know this is normal for you, that you’re used to the long hours in the office, but I’m not. I didn’t sign up for it on purpose because I knew that it wasn’t for me, even though I’m passionate about the law.

  “So kudos to you for being so dedicated to your job that you can put in eighty hours a week.”

  “It is a lot,” he says thoughtfully, sipping his coffee. He takes it black, which makes my lips pucker. “I admit that since I’ve been with you, I understand why Finn’s backed off a bit so he can dedicate more time to London.”

  “You didn’t understand it before?”

  “I thought I did,” he admits. “But I’ve never been in love before, so I didn’t identify with the need to want to be with someone all the time. Work has been my love and my mistress for a long time, Sienna. I enjoy it, and I do well at it.”

  “I know, and I love that about you. I’m not being snarky when I say that I admire how much dedication you can give to it.”

  “I get it,” he replies with a nod. “And I’ll always have the drive to be an excellent attorney. It’s part of who I am. So while I am beginning to understand that you are content with normal working hours so you can dedicate more time to things that drive you, like painting and cooking, I’m relieved that you understand why I push myself so hard at my career.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but he holds his finger against my lips.

  “Let me finish. I want you to know that I do give a lot of myself to my work, but I have you now, and I’m just as dedicated to making this work and giving us the time and attention that we need and deserve. So over the coming months, I’ll be working toward backing off on some of my hours at the office. Specifically, weekends. Spending days off with you is important and fun, and I want more of them.”

  “I’m glad.” I grin and drag my hand down his stubbly cheek, enjoying the way the whiskers feel against my palm. “Thanks for that. And for everything, really.”

  “Sienna, you deserve everything. I want you to be honest and open with me if you’re unhappy or discontent so we can work on fixing something before it’s irreparably broken.”

  “Same, Quinn.”

  He kisses my wrist, and then he goes back to his paper, and I nibble on my breakfast, sip my coffee, and scroll through Instagram. It’s the only social media app that I have, mostly because I enjoy the photos my friends and family post of their loved ones and vacations. It’s not typically politically driven, and I like that too.

  I also follow some of my favorite artists on the ’gram, although I haven’t posted my own artwork there.

  Once I’ve caught up online and finished my coffee, I get out of bed and get ready to spend another long day at the office.

  No, I’m not built for this much deskwork. I’ll be so glad when the case is over.

  “I think you’re going to want to see this,” Quinn says much later at the office. We’ve been here for hours and haven’t found a damn thing.

  “Please tell me it’s the fourth receipt.”

  “No, sorry, but it’s pretty incredible.”

  He passes me an old, yellow letter in an envelope.

  November 14, 1910

  My dearest Muriel,

  I can’t believe that today is our wedding day. After waiting for months, it’s finally here. It’s like a dream, my sweetheart, that very soon you’ll be my wife.

  You are the object of my desire, loving you is the only reason that I exist in this world. I will spend the rest of my life searching for what brings a smile to your lips, for you are more precious than I can tell you.

  Life is fleeting, of this I am sure, especially since losing my papa this year, and I’m grateful that I get to spend the rest of my days with you by my side. I’m proud to stand as your husband, your friend, your lover. From now until my last breath, I do.

  Yours always,

  Lawrence

  I wipe the tears from my cheeks and read through it again.

  “It seems Great-Grandpa Lawrence was a romantic,” I say as I sniff and Quinn passes me another handkerchief. “Where do you pull these out of? Thin air?”

  “My father taught me that a man should always keep a handkerchief on him.”

  “Well, he raised you right.”

  I dab at my eyes and fold the letter back into its envelope. “I’ll have to take this with us to my parents’ house so they can read it.”

  “I’m sure they’d like that,” he says before kissing my forehead and diving back into his box.

  This project has been stressful, time-consuming, and tedious. But I’ve found so many wonderful family treasures that otherwise might have been lost forever.

  “You know what’s really sad?”

  “What’s that?”

  “From what I’ve been told, Muriel died giving birth to their second child, about six years after they were married.”

  “So not lo
ng after he needed the loan from Reginald.”

  I nod. “Man, poor Lawrence had a rough few years.”

  “Did he remarry?”

  “I found a marriage certificate a few days ago for Lawrence and a woman named Rose. So, I’m assuming yes.” I reach for the folder and find the certificate. “He married her in 1920. She was twenty-three.”

  “How old was he?”

  “Thirty-five.”

  “I wonder if they had more children?”

  “I don’t know. I realize that I know way too little about my family any older than my grandparents’ age.”

  “Well, it makes sense. They’ve all been dead since before you were born, so it’s not like you could ask questions.”

  “True. And I never really thought about it much until I started this.” I check my watch, surprised by the time. “I guess we should wrap it up for the day and head over to my parents’ house.”

  “Do you get together for dinners often?”

  “About once a month. It’s a way for my mom to check in with us.”

  “Am I about to get drilled?”

  “Oh yeah. Put your attorney hat on, Counselor.”

  “It’s always on, sweetheart.”

  “Here, Lou, you wash and peel the potatoes,” Mom says as she pulls a bag of potatoes out of her pantry.

  “Why do I have to wash them if I’m going to peel them?” Louise asks.

  “Because I said so,” Mom replies, but she softens the retort with a kiss to Lou’s cheek. “Now that the boys are out in the garage, and out of listening range, tell me about Quinn, Sienna.”

  “He’s an attorney,” I reply, concentrating on chopping carrots.

  “Yes, that I know,” Mom says dryly. “I want to know all the other things. And let me just say right now, that man is handsome. I didn’t really get a good look at him at the will reading because we were all surprised and distraught, but now that I have, well, he’s one good-looking man.”

  “Mom.”

  “If I was thirty years younger, I might give you a run for your money.”

  “Mom!” Louise and I exclaim at the same time.

  “What? I’m sixty-five, not blind.”

  “Thirty years ago, you were married to Dad,” I remind her, but she just waves me off.

  “What does he do for fun?”

  “All the adrenaline junkie things he can find. Race car driving, hiking, zip-lining, you name it.”

  “Skydiving?” Louise asks.

  “I hope not. I might have to veto that one. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Do you have vetoing power?” Mom asks.

  “Well, we’ve dropped the love word a few times, so I think that gives me vetoing power.”

  “What?” Louise screeches and pulls me in for a hug. “You didn’t tell me!”

  “Well, we’ve been busy, and what am I supposed to do? Put you two on speakerphone and say hey, just wanted to let you know that Quinn and I are throwing the love word around?”

  “Yes,” they say in unison, making me giggle.

  “Well, it’s no surprise to me,” Lou says as she returns to the potatoes. “He called me last week and asked me for help with designing a studio for you in his condo.”

  “I’ve clearly been out of the loop,” Mom complains, and I quickly fill her in on staying with Quinn, and the new studio. “Oh, I like him a lot.”

  “It was very sweet. And Lou must have been the reason he bought all the expensive supplies.”

  “What? You should have those things. Your work is amazing, and it can only be better with the good stuff.”

  “I do fine with what I’ve been using,” I remind her, but then decide not to argue because the more expensive paints are better.

  “Well, I’m happy for you,” Mom says as she slips the veggies in the oven, along with the pork loin that went in a few hours ago. “I think it’s just fantastic that you’re working together to get the case resolved, and that you’ve fallen in love at the same time. It’s something out of a movie.”

  “A really sexy movie,” Louise agrees, and we all dissolve into laughter as the guys come in from the garage.

  “I’m telling you, Louis,” Uncle Patrick says, “that Corvette will never run.”

  “You say that about every car I buy, and I always get it running,” Dad reminds him. Quinn is smiling as he comes into the kitchen and leans in to kiss my cheek.

  “I like your dad,” he whispers, and I immediately feel more at ease. That means that Dad and Uncle Patrick were welcoming and kind. Not that I thought they’d challenge Quinn to a duel or anything, but I was expecting some kind of lecture because they love me.

  I’m glad it’s going well.

  “Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes,” Mom announces. “And I haven’t had a chance to chat with Quinn. Would you like to join me out in the garden?”

  “I’d be delighted,” Quinn says, winks at me, and then follows my mom outside.

  “He’s charming everyone,” Lou says once they’re gone and Dad and Patrick are in the living room.

  “He’s a charming guy.”

  “And he’s nice.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And hot.”

  “Duh.”

  “You gonna marry him?”

  “He hasn’t asked me.” I turn to her now and frown. “Just because I’m having a romance doesn’t mean we’re going to get married next week.”

  “You could,” she says. “I’m not saying you have to, but I’d keep this one.”

  “Did you hear from London about her engagement party?”

  Louise grins and pulls us each a bottle of water out of the fridge. “Changing the subject. Okay, I’ll allow it. Yes, we’ve spoken several times, and we already have a game plan in action. Thanks for the contact, by the way. This is a big one.”

  “I know.” I smile smugly and take a sip of my water. “I’ve been telling you for a long time that you should be an event planner.”

  “Yeah, but starting a business isn’t cheap.”

  “You just inherited a whole bunch of money,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “That might be something good to invest in. Yourself.”

  She bites her lip, thinking about it. “And if I fail, I lose it all.”

  “If you walk into it thinking that you’re going to fail, you already have.” I link my arm through hers. “You’re talented, good with people, and you’re definitely the kind of woman who would rather work for herself than for anyone else.”

  “Got me there.”

  “Do it. I’ll help. I can draw up contracts for clients, and I can help with a lot of things.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Of course.”

  She grins, then shimmies in a circle. “Oh my God, I think I’m going to do it!”

  “Do what?” Mom asks as she and Quinn walk through the back door. Quinn is smiling, but in a different way from when he came in with my dad.

  He looks . . . calmer.

  “Open an event planning business,” Louise says. “I’m ready to do it, and Sienna just talked me into it.”

  “Well, that’s fantastic,” Mom replies. “Congratulations, darling. Now, let’s get dinner on the table.”

  “That was delicious,” Quinn says when we’re all sitting on the patio together for dessert. “Now I know where Sienna gets her amazing cooking skills.”

  “I liked to cook with Mom when I was a kid,” I agree with a nod and take another bite of my strawberry cake.

  “Thank you, Quinn,” Mom says with a wink. It’s beautiful outside, not too hot the way it has been the past few days, so we’re taking advantage of the comfortable early evening.

  “I’m going to go in and get started on cleaning up,” Dad says. Uncle Patrick immediately stands as well.

  “I’ll help,” he says.

  “I can help too,” Quinn offers, but Dad shoos him back into his seat.

  “No need, Quinn. This time you’re a guest, but next time you can help clea
n up.” He winks and disappears into the house with Uncle Patrick. Louise fills our glasses with another round of wine.

  “This is always how it goes,” I offer in explanation. “The girls cook and the guys clean.”

  “Well, I’m perfectly fine with helping clean,” Quinn says, but Mom waves him off.

  “Not this time. Like Louis said, you can help next time.”

  “Tell us about some of the fun things you’ve found in those boxes,” my sister requests. “There must be some interesting things in there.”

  “There have been,” I agree. “In fact, I found a love letter from Great-Grandpa Lawrence to his first wife, Muriel, today. Actually, Quinn found it. It’s really beautiful. I brought it for you all to read.”

  “That was such a sad story,” Mom says with a sigh.

  “I don’t remember the whole story,” I admit.

  “Muriel died in childbirth about five or six years after they married.”

  “I knew that part. Is there more to the story?”

  “From what we were told, she was a sweet woman. Quiet, but confident, and she didn’t take any shit from anyone. In fact, I’ve seen photos of her, and you look a lot like her, Sienna.”

  “So she was a stunning woman,” Quinn says with a wink.

  “She was quite pretty. And I just realized, you’re wearing your hair down today. That’s unusual.”

  “I recently started something new.” I link my fingers through Quinn’s, and Mom keeps telling the story.

  “Well, I love it. Anyway, poor Muriel had her second baby breech and ended up bleeding to death. Of course, medical advances are such now that she would have lived.”

  “That is sad.”

  “The story goes that Lawrence was quite distraught and didn’t know quite what to do. Muriel took care of the family, and he worked, as it was with most families at that time. So he hired Muriel’s sister, Rose, to come live with him and the children, to be a nanny of sorts to help him.”

  “Oh, my,” I whisper, already knowing where this is going.

  “Well, he ended up marrying Rose,” Mom says.

  “Nanny affairs even back then,” Lou says, shaking her head.