Reaching For Risks

by Jemi Fraser

  Nothing.

  Philip.

  Breathing hard, she forced herself to keep painting, keep moving. If she stopped the flashbacks would swallow her whole.

  She didn’t have to see him again. If she didn’t leave the B&B she’d be fine. And it would appear normal. She had lots to do. No one would think it was weird.

  Except half the town was probably talking about the hardware incident already. Gossip traveled faster than anything in Bloo Moose. No doubt she was causing the gossip she’d listed now. Although she’d been thinking of something far sexier and more fun when she’d made the list.

  Staying home was definitely the answer.

  She managed to finish four more spindles before another thought sent her reeling and paint dripping.

  Quinn. Quinn was staying at the B&B. He could bring Philip here with him as a guest. Into her home.

  Darby set her brush down carefully on the lid of the paint tin. Her vision blurred as panic sent her blood racing. Philip could come here. They could be on their way now.

  No. Quinn wouldn’t do that to her.

  Except he didn’t know.

  No one knew.

  A shudder shook her and Darby dropped her head into her hands. She was safe in her home.

  Except she hadn’t been last time.

  But, she’d fought him off. Through pure luck and a handy lamp.

  Sawyer had been teaching her self-defense moves by then but Philip’s attack had come as a complete shock. He’d been on top of her before she’d even realized what was happening.

  Shock had been quickly replaced by anger and fear. Before the attack, she’d caught him watching her throughout that summer. He’d never looked away when caught staring. Instead, he’d smiled a creepy smile as if they’d shared a secret.

  Not once had she smiled back. Each time she’d frowned at him and turned away then immediately searched out friends. From the beginning, he’d scared her and she’d kept her distance.

  Just as from the beginning Quinn had attracted her. Made her smile. Made her want to be near him.

  Over the past week, she’d learned to see Quinn, really see him instead of seeing a shadow of Philip.

  Until today.

  Seeing them together with Quinn smiling made her want to be sick again.

  She’d have to ask Quinn to leave.

  How could she? They were preparing for Sawyer’s wedding and didn’t have much time. She’d have to keep up appearances until after the wedding. Keep herself safe. Keep it all inside.

  At least she was used to that.

  “Darby?”

  She squealed, her head flew up and she’d backed up a step on the stairs before she realized it was Quinn and that he was alone. Had he brought Philip? Was he in another room? She scooted up another step.

  Quinn frowned at her and stepped forward. Breathing heavily, she wanted to back up again but forced herself to stay where she was. Gripping the nosing of the stair tread helped keep her in place. Her eyes roamed behind him but the foyer was clear. Had he come in that way or through the kitchen? Was Philip in there? A quick glance down the hallway showed no one but she couldn’t see through the door.

  Unable to help herself, she scooted up another step.

  “Darby?”

  Her eyes went back to Quinn who’d reached the bottom of the stairs but hadn’t climbed over the painting supplies and drop cloths to get to her.

  “You okay?”

  Not even close but she nodded.

  He leaned against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest, stretching his t-shirt in very nice ways.

  “I’m painting.”

  An eyebrow raised and his eyes traveled from her down the three steps to where she’d left the can and dropped the brush. She tried to hold his eye but couldn’t. She checked constantly behind him and down the hall. No Philip. No one.

  “Let me grab another brush and I’ll give you a hand.”

  “No.” The word exploded out of her sounding harsh even to her own ears. Quinn stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had. “No.” This time she sounded almost normal. “I’ve got this. Thanks though. I’m fine.” To prove it, she slipped down the stairs, grabbed her brush, dipped it and started painting.

  Quinn didn’t budge or speak until she’d finished the spindle.

  “Fine, huh? Then why’d you paint a spindle you’d already finished?”

  Darby’s hand froze and she checked out the spindle. And the ones on either side of it. All painted. She must have scooted down an extra step.

  Without a word, she moved her paint can and herself up and started working on an unpainted spindle.

  Still, Quinn didn’t move. He could do strong and silent as well as her brother and she had to clamp her lips together to stop herself from babbling to fill the empty room.

  With every passing moment she became more confident they were alone in the house but she kept checking to make sure. Seeing Philip would break the thin hold she had on her control—and maybe her sanity. Quinn, she could handle.

  Maybe.

  Maybe not.

  Probably not.

  A quick glance showed him watching her with an intensity that had her hand trembling and her pulse picking up. Dipping her brush, she started on the next spindle. And the next.

  “Are you pissed because I interrupted you and Rayce?”

  Rayce? It took Darby a few seconds to rewind to that humiliating incident. “I didn’t know it was Rayce.” Why had she said that? Her mouth needed to start listening to her brain. And her brain needed to start working.

  At her words, Quinn shoved off the wall and came to face her through the railings of the banister. With her seated on the stairs, they were almost eye to eye. Nowhere to hide. Dip the brush again. Paint.

  “What the hell does that mean? He was standing right beside you. You moan and sigh and play with your lips and stick your ass out like that everywhere you go? At every man who shops alongside you?”

  Humiliation burned her cheeks again. Scratch flirting off the list. Permanently. In fact, scratch everything off the list. She was never leaving the B&B again. She’d pay for deliveries of everything she needed. Forever.

  Which would be fine if Quinn hadn’t already shown her what she was missing with that kiss. She wanted more of that.

  Her eyes drifted to his hard, steely blue ones. Correction. She wanted more of that with a man who wanted to kiss her. Not one who was angry about it.

  Who was she kidding? If he wanted to kiss her, she wouldn’t stop him. But she wouldn’t start it either.

  And neither would he.

  Darby finished the spindle and moved up to the next while Quinn continued to watch her through the gaps. Keeping her hand steady required every bit of concentration she possessed. His eyes tried to reach into her soul and pull out her secrets. Keep painting. Don’t run.

  As she started the next spindle, Quinn’s hand shot forward and grabbed her hand as she reached through to paint the far side. Darby jerked back and gasped but he held her steady.

  The brush slipped out of her hand and clattered to the floor but Quinn ignored it and tugged her forward until her nose almost touched the railing. His eyes bored into hers so hard, she couldn’t blink. “What the hell were doing flirting with Rayce like that?”

  “According to you, I was making a fool out of myself. A mouth-breathing, awkward, stiff and stupid fool.” The tremble in her voice was tiny but she knew he heard it. The man noticed every last thing.

  Something shot through his eyes at her words but whatever it was, it disappeared too quickly for her to identify it. “Jesus, Darby. I’m sorry.”

  This time when she yanked her hand back, he let it go. For a long minute, they stared at each other then he swore vividly and turned to swing through the kitchen door.

  Darby slumped back against the wall and forced back the tears. When she was relatively confident her legs would hold her she climbed down the stairs to retrieve the brush. While she want
ed nothing more than to go hide under the covers behind a locked door she forced herself to go back to the spindles.

  The clock in the sitting room chimed four and Darby barely held in the wail. How many more disasters waited in the hours before the hideous day ended?

  QUINN had no idea if this bedroom had been on Darby’s list or not but the color had pissed him off. Along with everything else that had happened during the damn day.

  Shoving around the furniture, painting and making the room look less like a morgue had helped. He felt less like killing people now. Sort of.

  It didn’t help with his need to grab Darby and kiss her until she melted beneath him but he wasn’t sure anything was going to help with that. Except for actually doing it and that didn’t look in the least bit likely.

  He was an ass.

  Instead of apologizing like a rational human being, he’d freaked her out. His need for her was growing and turning him into a demented caveman. He wanted to pin her to the wall and find out what feelings she had for Rayce.

  Screw that, he just wanted to pin her to the wall and have at her. Find out what feelings she had for him. He didn’t need words for that.

  Until now, he’d always been good with words. One of the reasons CharterGear was successful. He liked people. Talking was easy. If there’d been a small talk course in college, he’d have aced it.

  But he couldn’t talk with Darby. She froze up his tongue. And his brain. When she was in the room it was like he turned into one raging hormone.

  Had she really not known it was Rayce in the hardware store? Sure, he hadn’t seen her actually looking at him but she’d known someone was there. More of her practice or a real attraction to the carpenter?

  Was that who she kept looking for in the foyer? The entire time she’d been painting the banister, she’d been looking at all the doors. Checking them. And she’d been scared. Of him? Of Rayce coming in because she’d embarrassed herself? That would bring nerves, not fear.

  And she’d been scared. Again.

  He could have figured it all out by asking a couple of questions but his brain had gone into Darby-scramble-mode and he’d done stupid things instead.

  Watched her. Drooled a little. Imagined taking her right there on the stairs. Imagined playing with the paint.

  Definitely an ass.

  Why wouldn’t she tell him if she was afraid? What or who had her scared?

  He hadn’t asked the right questions and hadn’t exactly encouraged her confidences.

  If someone was threatening her or had broken into the B&B, he’d have to find out. Help her. And he couldn’t do that painting random rooms in her house.

  Time to act like a man and talk to her.

  Quinn headed down to the kitchen. She’d been cooking for the last few hours and the aromas were driving him insane. He was practically drooling again and it wasn’t just for the food.

  When he swung into the kitchen, he was greeted by pure chaos. He’d never seen any part of the B&B anything but pristine and organized. Even during the renovations, Darby kept everything clean and tidy. She washed dishes as she baked and cooked so there was rarely anything left dirty by the time her creations were ready.

  Now he wondered if the kitchen would ever be clean again. Pots and pans and bowls and mixers and tins and things he didn’t have names for littered every surface. Several loaves of something sat on cooling racks on the floor. Darby stood at the sink with her back to him, oblivious to his presence. Music poured from the speakers above the cabinets. Some kind of jazz, he’d guess. The sexy, pounding beat intrigued him but not as much as the woman.

  He wanted her.

  And not just for sex, although that would be where he’d like to start.

  Unable to resist, Quinn crossed the room until he stood directly behind her. She must have sensed him at the last second because she whirled as his arms reached forward to grab the sink on either side of her. Trapping her in front of him. Perfect.

  Quinn watched her eyes closely, wanting to catch every reaction. He needed to know she wasn’t afraid of him and that he wasn’t imagining this crazy chemistry between them.

  The first emotion he saw was fear.

  After a heartbeat, the fear dissipated to relief. Her eyes closed, her shoulders relaxed and she let out a breath. When she opened them what he saw was probably wariness. Not what he’d been hoping for but definitely what he deserved.

  And something he could work with.

  “First off, I’m an ass and an idiot. A jealous ass and idiot. I’m sorry for those horrid things I said. I didn’t mean any of them. I went a little crazy watching you flirting with Rayce.” A flush covered her cheeks and she looked down at his chest but she didn’t try to push him away. “And I meant what I said when I told you that you don’t have to flirt that way. Or any way. Be yourself. It works.”

  Still no eye contact, still no pushing away. Neutral. Move in and kiss her or back up and try to actually fix the mess he’d created. And find out what the hell else was going on. Without moving away Quinn turned to look at the mess behind him then back to her. “Looks like Betty Crocker exploded in here. What’s up?”

  Darby shook her head still not looking at his face for more than a microsecond. Her eyes flitted to his chest, his abs, shoulders, face. The wariness hadn’t disappeared but he’d swear the cause of it had changed. She wasn’t unaffected by him either. Which meant he wasn’t out of strikes just yet.

  “Darby?” This time he moved forward, no more than an inch but it caused a reaction in her. Pulse kicked up, flushed skin, slight tremble in her hand when she lifted it to press it to her apron. He’d never thought about aprons much before but now he could see the appeal. It rested on and highlighted some of the most interesting parts of her. And now he was picturing her wearing it with nothing beneath it. Nice. Very nice.

  When he lifted one hand to trace the apron strap near her neck, her eyes flew up to his. He’d done nothing but brush the fabric at her collar but his body hardened and desire replaced the wariness in her eyes.

  “You okay?”

  A slight nod. One he didn’t believe for a second. “Don’t lie to me, Darby. You’re the most organized and efficient person I know but this kitchen is a war zone. Enter at Your Own Risk. I wouldn’t be surprised to see caution tape on the doors.”

  A corner of her mouth lifted briefly. “I felt like baking.”

  Quinn kept his hands on the sink to keep her there and looked over his shoulder. “And cooking. Soup. Breads. Brownies. Cookies. What’s wrong?”

  “Why does something have to be wrong? I’m stocking up my freezer.”

  Fat chance. “Liar.”

  Her eyes widened and flashed then she put her hands on his chest. She didn’t push him away so he did the opposite and moved in closer. Almost touching her but not quite. Not yet.

  Darby’s fingers moved over him gently. Exploring. She maintained eye contact even though she had to tilt her head up, exposing her throat. If he dipped his head, he could taste her skin, right there where her pulse beat against it. “I’m not going anywhere, Darby so you might as well get used to it.”

  Her eyes narrowed but her lips quirked up. “What if I don’t want to get used to it? To you?”

  “Then I’d have to call you a liar again.”

  When she opened her mouth to protest, Quinn didn’t resist any longer. He dropped his head and traced his tongue over her lips. Instead of spewing angry words at him, she moaned softly as their breaths mingled. It had him imagining a million ways to make her moan again.

  “Tell me why you’re hiding in the kitchen.”

  “I’m not hiding, I’m cooking.” Her whisper brushed over his skin, made it ache to be closer then she leaned in.

  Quinn took her lower lip between his teeth and tugged then ran his tongue over the spot. “I taste chocolate and cinnamon. I need a better taste to see what else.” She shivered in response to his words and he kissed her lightly then swept his tongue inside her mout
h.

  Darby’s hands gripped his shirt and pulled him toward her and she kissed him back with a vengeance. The world righted itself before it spun madly out of control but he managed to keep his hands gripping the sink. This time he wasn’t going to attack. He’d let her take the lead.

  But he was sure as hell following wherever she decided to go.

  It's About Time

  Darby sank into the kiss. Her body wanted to climb up and onto Quinn. To climb right in if she could. He was so strong so confident and the kiss felt so right. For a minute nothing else mattered. Not the mess in the kitchen. Not the humiliation she’d caused. Not even Quinn’s family.

  But the minute didn’t last. It couldn’t.

  Reality wasn’t that kind. When her brain started functioning, Darby eased back from the kiss. Breathing hard, she eased her fingers open and smoothed out the wrinkles she’d caused on his shirt. Unable to look him in the eye, she rested her forehead on his chest.

  As much as she wanted to kiss him again and keep on kissing him, she knew she wasn’t ready. Part of her wanted to grab his hand and head to her bedroom but the day’s emotions had derailed her and she needed a clear head before she took that step. The cooking had helped but it wasn’t enough.

  Quinn let out a massive sigh and his arms wrapped around her to hug her tightly to him. She snuggled into his strength and warmth and his big hands cruised her back, offering comfort. Despite the way she’d jumped into the kiss with every part of her soul, he didn’t press her for more. There was no mistaking the evidence of his body but he held her gently, with his cheek resting on the top of her head.

  No pressure.

  “I’m sorry, Quinn so sorry.”

  He responded to her whispered apology with a rueful chuckle, his hands squeezing her more tightly to him. “Nothing to be sorry about, darling. That was definitely the highlight of my day and a hell of a lot better than I deserve.”

  The clock ticked softly in the background but Darby didn’t move. Couldn’t. Inside, her desires warred with her worries. She tried to convince the desire they’d be satisfied in time and she’d be better off dealing with the worries first but they weren’t having it.