by Susan Stoker
“Don’t you want to hear what happened?”
His friend laughed. “Ms. Madison, it’s clear you and Quint are on your way out. I’m happy to stand here and discuss this letter all night, but it looks like you have other plans. My buddy hasn’t been on a date for a very long time and I’m fucking thrilled he’s managed to get someone as pretty as you to agree to be seen in public with his ugly self.”
Corrie could hear the affection for his friend in Dax’s voice. She smiled as he continued, “I’ve also been working all day and I’d like to get home to Mack, my girlfriend. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, by phone if that’s easier for you, or I’ll get in touch with Detective Algood, if you’re more comfortable talking to him. Either way, you both look too pretty to be cooped up in this apartment gabbing about something none of us can do anything about at the moment. Go out. Have fun.”
Corrie looked up at where Quint was. “Is he always like that?”
“Fuck no. He’s usually a pain in the ass and all about protocol. But I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth. If he says to get out of here, I’m all for it.”
“Okay, let me grab my jacket and purse.”
“Here you go, Cor.” Emily was there with her stuff. “I’m going too. This works out great. I can get home to Bethany and our son and eat with them.”
The foursome walked out of the apartment and Corrie reset the alarm and locked her door. As soon as the door was locked and Corrie had put her key away, Quint took her hand in his to lead her to the car. They all walked down to the parking lot together. Quint gave Dax a chin lift and he returned it before heading to his vehicle and easing out of the lot.
“Call me tomorrow, Cor. I need to know what’s going on and what we’re doing next.”
“We aren’t doing anything, Em. I already told you, I’m not involving you any more than you already are.”
“But—”
It was Quint who interrupted her this time. “I’ll be in touch, Emily. I agree with Corrie, though. You shouldn’t be involved in this. I’ll take care of your friend.”
“Swear?”
“Swear.”
“Okay…don’t do anything I wouldn’t do tonight then.”
Corrie laughed out loud. “I don’t think that’s the best advice, knowing how much you love Bethany.”
Quint watched the banter between Corrie and Emily with a grin. It was obvious that the two women were close. And the fact that Corrie wasn’t prejudiced made him like her all the more. Every scrap of information he picked up about the woman standing next to him, seemingly content to hold his hand, solidified the warm feeling in his belly that she was meant to be his.
After Emily had gotten in her car and driven off, Quint returned his hand to the small of Corrie’s back. He felt her arch against him just a bit and he smiled. “Come on, sweetheart. I have a dinner to take you to.”
Chapter 7
Corrie nervously unlocked her door, somehow managing not to drop her keys in the process. She could feel Quint standing at her side. He had one hand on her hip and she could feel his thumb caressing her side as he stood patiently, letting her unlock her apartment by herself.
It was one of the four hundred twenty-three thousand things she found herself mentally calculating that she liked about the man. Holding her hand as he helped her navigate? Check. Asking her if she read Braille, then requesting a Braille menu from the hostess? Check. After the waiter put down their drinks, moving hers until it touched her hand so she’d know where it was? Check. Calmly and without fanfare explaining, by using a typical clock face, where the food was on her plate? Check.
Even now, he could’ve been overbearing and asked for her keys so he could open her door for her, but he didn’t. He got it. He really seemed to understand that she wasn’t helpless because she couldn’t see.
They’d talked a lot throughout dinner about how she got around and what assistive technologies she used in her everyday life. She promised to show him some of them when they got back to her place.
Now they were here. Corrie’s heart beat quickly. He’d been touching her all night, and it was driving her crazy.
She finally got the door open and she keyed in the code to the alarm.
“Wait here while I go and check things out.”
Without giving her a chance to argue, Quint was gone. If Corrie was honest with herself, she was glad he was here. She would’ve been very nervous to come back to her apartment by herself, especially after receiving that darn letter.
Quint was back within minutes. “It’s all clear. Let me take your jacket.”
Corrie turned and shrugged out of her jacket and felt Quint take it. “Where does it go?”
“What?”
“Where does it go?” Quint repeated easily.
“Just put it anywhere.”
“No. Tell me where it goes. I’m not an idiot, Corrie. I can tell that every single thing in your apartment has its place. If I put it down somewhere, you won’t find it as easily. Tell me where you’d put it if you came home alone.”
Darn, she kept forgetting how observant he was. “In my closet in my room. The third hook on the right when you walk in.”
“Be right back.”
Corrie wandered into the kitchen as she heard Quint head down the hall to her bedroom. She fought a blush, thinking about him in her room. She’d just pulled the coffeepot to the edge of the counter when he returned.
“Do you want coffee?”
“Sure, if you’ll have some with me.”
Corrie nodded and reached for the water faucet. She held the carafe under the faucet until it was nearly full. Then she turned to the pot and opened the top and poured it into the reservoir. She put the now-empty glass pot on the burner on the machine and lifted out the little basket with used grounds in it. She opened the cabinet under the sink and dumped the grounds into the trash can.
Next, Corrie turned the water back on and ran the basket under it, rinsing the old grounds away. Then she placed it back into the coffeemaker and grabbed the plastic bin of coffee grounds.
“I hope vanilla is okay?”
“It’s perfect.”
Corrie screeched in surprise as Quint’s voice came from right beside her. “Holy cow, you scared me! I didn’t realize you were right there.” She laughed shakily. “That doesn’t happen often, you know, I always hear people when they approach me.”
“You were distracted. And I must say, you are absolutely fascinating to watch.”
“What do you mean?” Corrie turned back to the coffee. She pulled out a spoon that she kept inside the plastic jug and scooped out a large spoonful. She managed not to jerk in surprise when she felt Quint’s arms snake around her waist to rest right under her breasts. He held her loosely, but with control. The contradiction was arousing as hell.
“You know exactly where everything is. You didn’t fill the pot too full, you got it right to the ten-cup line. You didn’t hesitate to pour it into the right place on the coffeemaker. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were pulling my leg this entire time and you can see as well as I can.”
Corrie tried to ignore the huge compliment Quint had given her without realizing it, but couldn’t. “Thank you. Seriously. You have no idea what it means to someone like me when people don’t realize I can’t see.” She continued with what she was doing, a little hesitantly now that she knew Quint was scrutinizing her so closely. She managed to get three scoops of the coffee grounds into the basket. She flipped the lid closed and turned the machine on. She soon heard the gurgling of the water making its way through the machine and the alluring smell of vanilla coffee wafted through the air.
“Show me some of the other assistive technologies you have in the kitchen,” Quint demanded as he stepped back, giving her some room.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Everything about you amazes me.”
Not knowing how to respond to that, Corrie reached over and opened a cabinet. She pointed to where she
knew her measuring set was. “I have a Braille label maker. I’ve marked all of the measuring spoons and cups with their sizes. I really don’t need them much anymore, I can tell by touch which cup is which.
“My salt and pepper shakers have Braille marks on the ridges so I know which is which without having to taste them. I have a boil alert disk that I put in the bottom of the pan when I’m boiling water. It rattles when the water starts boiling so I know it’s time to put in the pasta or rice or whatever. I have talking meat thermometers; my kitchen timer, as you can see, has raised bumps for minutes and larger markings at five minutes and a big raised bar at an hour.”
Corrie pointed to her right. “Even my microwave talks to me. And as you noticed, everything has its place, especially in the kitchen. Emily helps me when I need it, but I try to do most things myself. I order lots of food online so I don’t have to worry about the grocery store, I label everything. Every now and then I’ll open a can thinking I’m eating soup to find something else entirely.” She laughed at herself. “The fridge is organized so I know what’s in there and where it is. I sometimes forget about the expiration dates, but I’ve learned to sniff everything before I use it, just in case.”
“Did I say you were amazing?”
“Uh, yeah, but it’s not that big of a deal.”
“I was wrong.” Quint ignored her and kept on. “You’re fucking amazing.”
Corrie giggled a bit. “Actually, I’m probably considered on the extreme side of anal to most people.”
“No. Not at all.”
Corrie sobered a bit as she looked up at Quint. He’d taken her in his arms as she was explaining some of the things in her kitchen that helped her be independent. He’d clasped his hands at the small of her back and held her to him. Corrie could feel his hard thighs against hers and, if she wasn’t mistaken, his hard length as well.
“I realize this isn’t a normal way to live, Quint. No sighted person could live this way.”
“Why not?”
“Why not? Because. Look at it. It’s crazy. I know it is.”
“Someone told you that, didn’t they?”
Corrie paused before nodding in agreement.
“Come on.” Quint took her hand and led her to her couch. Corrie didn’t have the gumption at the moment to tell him he didn’t need to lead her to her own couch, she knew where it was, but she enjoyed the feel of her hand in his. He pulled her to the couch, then sat. Corrie stood awkwardly for a moment before he pulled her down next to him. He settled her into his side as if they sat like that all the time.
Corrie could feel the beat of his heart under her hand. She resisted the urge to explore. She hadn’t “seen” this man yet, the time hadn’t been right to ask him if she could run her hands over him to see what he looked like. But now…it seemed right. Before she could ask, he spoke.
“Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” Corrie was confused. What were they talking about?
“Tell me about the asshole who told you he couldn’t live this way.”
Corrie froze. How had he figured out that it was a man who’d told her that? When she’d agreed with him, she figured he’d think it was her parents or a friend who’d made the insinuation. She sighed softly. Damn Quint’s observation abilities. She was silent for a moment, not knowing where to start.
“I don’t bite. Go on.”
“I know you don’t. I was just trying to figure out where to start this sad tale of woe.” Her voice came out just this side of snarky.
Quint laughed. “I love when you get like this. Go on then, take your time.”
Corrie shook her head at the crazy man currently holding her in his arms. She could feel one of his arms around her back, resting on her hip. The other hand was resting over her own palm on his chest. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. He smelled so damn good, and Corrie just wanted to bury her face in his neck and never come up for air, but he’d asked her a question. She wanted to tell him, to make him understand what life was like living with a blind person. Well, at least living with her. She supposed every person was different. Other people might not be as anal as she was. She didn’t know. All she knew was that she wanted whatever it was they were doing to continue. She’d never felt so comfortable with someone so quickly before.
Corrie took a deep breath and started. The sooner she told him, the sooner it’d be over. “I was dating Ian for several months. We got along great. He was attentive, but not smothering. We used to play cards almost all night—”
“How do you play cards?”
“Are you going to let me tell this story or what?”
“Yeah, after you tell me how you play cards.”
Corrie lifted her head and looked up where his voice was. “You’re kinda annoying, you know that?”
“Yeah, so my friends tell me. Cards?”
“And persistent,” Corrie grumbled, but gave in with a smile. “I ordered a couple decks of special cards off the Internet. They have both Braille and regular print on them so I can play with a sighted person without any issues. They’re plastic and actually waterproof and are really cool. Not that I’d play cards in the shower or tub or anything, I just thought it was neat to have cards that could get wet and wouldn’t get ruined.”
“Huh, I never knew anything like that existed either. Strip poker in the rain…who knew. Okay, go on. Ian,” Quint sneered his name, “was attentive, but not smothering.”
Ignoring the obvious disdain in Quint’s voice, Corrie continued her story. “Yeah, as I said, we got along well. I thought he loved me. I thought I loved him. He asked me to move in with him, I told him I couldn’t, I was way too comfortable in my space, but I wouldn’t mind if he moved in with me. He agreed. He moved in, was here about two weeks before leaving. We tried to keep dating after he moved out, but it wasn’t the same. He admitted to me that he’d had no idea living with a blind person was so…‘exhausting’ was the word I think he used.”
“Exhausting? What the fuck does that mean?”
“I think he meant what I showed you. Everything has a place. The kitchen drove him especially crazy. He told me once it reminded him of that movie with Julia Roberts where she’s being stalked by a crazy ex…Sleeping with the Enemy. He hated that all my food was lined up precisely and I’d spend at least an hour after shopping labeling it all. He’d leave his shoes in the middle of our bedroom and I’d trip over them. I once hit my head on the corner of my little table and Em told me I had a huge bruise for days.”
Quint growled, and Corrie felt the rumble under her hand resting on his chest, but he didn’t say anything, so she tried to finish up her story quickly. “I tried to show Ian where I’d made room in my closet for his shoes and things to go. He whined that he was tired and it was hard to put everything in a specific place every single time. The last straw was the time I accidently started a small grease fire. I heard the whoosh of the flames and felt the heat on my face, and reached for the baking soda, but he’d moved it the last time he was in the kitchen when he was doing something else. I was yelling at him to come and help me because I couldn’t find the darn stuff and the fire almost got out of control. I kinda lost my temper and told him off. I told him how important it was that he not move things without telling me. He got pissed, we said some unforgivable things to each other, and he left that day.”
“Prick.”
“What?”
“I said he was a prick.”
Corrie sighed sadly. “No, he really wasn’t. It’s mostly my fault, honestly. It’s impossible for someone who can see to understand the importance of needing to know where things are.”
“Corrie, you’re wrong. If he’d come to you and said, ‘Hey, I bought some spices and I’d like to put them in the cabinet where the baking soda is, can you come help me figure out how to organize everything so you know where it is,’ would you have gotten mad and refused?”
“What kind of question is that?” Corrie questioned testily. “No, of course no
t. I don’t really care where things are, as long as I can find them when I need them. I don’t want to put sugar in my food when I think it’s really salt.”
“Exactly.”
“Quint, you’re confusing the ever-loving daylights out of me. Exactly what?” Corrie felt Quint lean in closer to her. She could feel his breath on her face as he spoke earnestly.
“It’s not that you’re opposed to moving things around, you just want to know where they are.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
“So, if I said, ‘Hey, I want to move the couch so it’s under the window and put the chair in the other corner’…what would you say?”
“Sure. Whatever. It’s not like I can say it doesn’t look as good where you want it. I can’t see it anyway. It’s knowing where it is that’s important. ”
Corrie startled as Quint eased her backward until she was lying on her back on the couch. She could feel him crouched over her. “Quint! What are you doing?” She reached up and found his chest. She put both hands against it and held on.
“You’re not anal, Corrie.”
She snorted at him.
“You’re not. You don’t care where things are. You don’t care what’s in here. You just care where it is so you don’t run into it or so you can find it again.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling you,” Corrie told him, confused, wondering where he was going with his observations and feeling like they were talking in circles.
“Living with you wouldn’t be exhausting. It would simply mean communication, compromise and, the caveman part of me wants to say, protection as well.”
Corrie didn’t know what to say, so she kept quiet. Quint didn’t seem to mind as he continued.
“If you were mine, and I was living here with you, I’d see it as my duty to put things back where they belonged. It would be my way of protecting you. How much of a selfish bastard would I be to move furniture without telling you, or to leave my shit in the middle of the floor where you could trip over it and get hurt? I’m not saying it wouldn’t take some getting used to, but I honestly don’t see it as that big of a deal.”