Quinn

by Lynn Hagen

  “It’s ironic.” Stevie ate some of his cheese puffs and licked his fingers clean. “I was the one chasing after you, trying to get you to pull me out of the friend zone, and now I’m the one running.”

  “Friend zone?” Quinn scoffed. “You were never there, trust me. I just wanted to take things slow.”

  Stevie laughed. “If you’d gone any slower, we would’ve had our first kiss on my seventieth birthday.”

  Quinn seemed to sober as he looked off into the distance. “I just broke up with someone before returning to Kendall. I’m tired of jumping in feetfirst and getting knocked back onto the shore. I wanted to try a different approach to dating, like sticking my toes in the water and treading lightly.”

  It was hard to imagine any guy not wanting to be with Quinn. The guy was a big, muscled teddy bear who seemed to have a huge heart. Quinn’s ex was an idiot.

  “What about you?” Quinn returned his attention to Stevie. “Any past lovers I need to be on the lookout for? Do I need to sleep with one eye open?”

  Stevie made a noise in the back of his throat. He wished he had had someone who cared deeply for him. It just never worked out that way when he dated. “Just men who steer clear of me,” he said. “Those who know my dad tend to go the other way. I’ve had a few boyfriends, but nothing serious.”

  Quinn nodded but didn’t comment.

  “The Tucker family, that’s my last name in case you didn’t know it, doesn’t exactly have a sterling reputation in Kendall. Both my parents are alcoholics, and it’s no secret my dad hates gay people.”

  “Your father sounds amazing,” Quinn said. “I’ll have to meet him and thank him for the bruise on your cheek.”

  “It wouldn’t do any good.” Stevie set his snack bag aside and pulled one leg onto the bench, circling his arm around it and resting his cheek on his knee. He wished he’d grabbed a bottle of water because the cheese puffs had made his mouth dry. “He’s set in his ways. You could beat him to a pulp, and he wouldn’t change.”

  Quinn curled an arm around Stevie’s shoulders and drew him close. His strong arm felt good and safe. Stevie felt sheltered in the crook of Quinn’s body.

  “Well, you’ve got me and my brothers now,” Quinn said. “No one is gonna fuck with you. I told you that you were like family. I just didn’t know you’d turn out to be my mate.”

  “That’s so weird,” Stevie admitted. “Not the family thing. The fate thing.”

  “You’re telling me.” Quinn traced Stevie’s arm with the tips of his fingers. “I’m a panther, and my world is sometimes confusing but also fascinating.” He looked down at Stevie. “If you’d let me, I’d like to show you.”

  Stevie bit his lip. He wasn’t sure he was ready for babies, but he wouldn’t mind delving deeper into Quinn’s life.

  “Here he is.”

  Stevie looked up and saw Nomad walking toward them. The guy never smiled and had a walk that said he meant business. Stevie wondered who exactly Nomad was. What went on inside his head and what his story was.

  Whatever it was, Stevie just knew he never wanted to get on Nomad’s bad side. The guy could probably kill Stevie with a single glare.

  Chapter Five

  Stevie was in the kitchen, grabbing a pod off the carousel to make a cup of coffee. Nomad’s plan involved bringing them back to the house. Now Quinn, Nash, and Nomad were in the living room talking.

  Stevie wasn’t sure what he wanted to do as far as having Quinn’s baby. He was confused and frightened, but a part of him wondered what it would be like to have a child of his own. He would have Quinn and his brothers to help him but also Layne, too.

  With a sigh Stevie grabbed the milk from the fridge and waited for his coffee to finish brewing. He couldn’t believe he was actually considering it. He’d gone from totally against the idea to giving it some thought.

  He really did need his head examined. Addictions seemed to run in his family. Did insanity, as well?

  “Hey.”

  Stevie looked over his shoulder as Layne walked in. He had Connor in some sort of contraption that was wrapped around his shoulders and back. Stevie could only see the baby’s head, but he was fast asleep, and his lips were moving as though he were sucking an imaginary bottle.

  “So, I hear you and Quinn are mates.” Layne took a seat at the table, placing one hand on the baby’s back. “How do you feel about that, and why on earth didn’t you tell me you carried the panther-shaped birthmark? Christ, Stevie. We’ve known each other forever.”

  Something had always held Stevie back from telling anyone. He had no idea why, either. It had been no big deal to him until he’d found out what the mark meant. “I don’t know.”

  Layne got up and crossed the room, placing his hand on Stevie’s back like he’d done to the baby. “Talk to me, Stevie. We’re best friends. You can tell me anything.”

  Staring at the baby made Stevie think of Quinn, of how he’d always been unlucky in love and how he yearned for a family. “Doesn’t being a father scare you?”

  “All the time.” Layne went to the fridge and grabbed a bottled water. “But there’s nothing I would change. You can’t imagine the love you feel for your child until you have one. But I’m always checking on him when he’s sleeping, worried about colds, sickness, and all the other things that keep parents awake at night.”

  “That sounds exhausting.” Stevie took a sip of his coffee. “When do you get any rest?”

  Layne kissed the top of Connor’s head. “I just woke from a nap. We have a bassinet next to our bed, and Connor mostly sleeps in that. I never want him too far away from me.”

  The way Layne looked at the baby moved something inside Stevie. He’d honestly never thought of having a child, but now that he knew it was possible…

  “What about your pregnancy?” He crossed the room and joined Layne when his friend sat at the table. “How bad was it?”

  Layne looked toward the door and then spoke in a lower tone. “I got morning sickness a lot, but Nash spoiled me rotten. Anything I needed he got for me, massaged my body, fed me. To tell you the truth, I’d have another baby just to get that royal treatment.”

  “He doesn’t do that now?” Stevie asked.

  “He does, but not like when I was carrying his child. He still spoils me, but now I have to feed myself.” Layne laughed. “I swear, if I would’ve let him, he would’ve carried me everywhere.” He placed his hand on Stevie’s arm. “Quinn’s a really good guy. Just give him a chance.”

  Stevie already knew how good of a guy Quinn was. He’d proven that in spades. But how could Stevie even consider having a child when his life was at stake? Neal didn’t look the type to let things slide. He’d put a bullet between Stevie’s eyes like he’d promised.

  He told Layne what was going on.

  “Nash already told me.” He started patting the baby’s back, although Connor was still asleep. “I never liked your dad. He was a mean asshole. I still can’t believe he dragged you into his mess, but then again, I can believe it because that’s the type of person he is.”

  Stevie had no idea what Layne was doing when he pulled his shirt back. There was a scar there that Stevie didn’t recall Layne having before.

  “You’re worried about getting pregnant with all this going on?” Layne asked. “I was pregnant when I was shot by one of Nash’s ex-army buddies. I won’t go into any details of why he was after Nash, but life is never easy, and if you wait until it’s perfect, you’ll never have a family.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were shot?” Stevie demanded, shocked that he hadn’t known.

  “A lot of things were going on at the time, and I didn’t want my parents to catch wind of this.” Layne narrowed his eyes as he lowered his shirt. “And if you’d known, you would’ve told them.”

  That was true. There had been a few times growing up that Stevie had accidently told on Layne. But something as big as their son getting shot would’ve made Stevie rat his friend out. He would’ve
wanted them to know, and they would’ve had a right to know.

  Only because Stevie adored Layne’s parents. They treated him like their own son, something not even Cliff did. If it hadn’t been for Sheila and Gilbert Buchannan and the love they’d showered on him, Stevie wasn’t sure how he would’ve ended up.

  “Trust me.” Layne squeezed his hand. “You’ll do just fine as a dad. Stop freaking about it and let it happen.”

  “How do you know I’m freaking out?”

  Layne gave him a “bitch, please” look. “You always freak out. You fainted when you saw I was pregnant.”

  “That’s a perfectly normal reaction when you find out a guy is knocked up,” Stevie defended.

  He felt better, though. Now that he’d talked with Layne, Stevie having his own baby seemed a more viable possibility.

  Quinn came into the kitchen and walked up behind Stevie’s chair. He placed a kiss on his neck. “Ready to head upstairs?”

  Layne gave Stevie a knowing look. “Remember what I said.”

  Stevie still straddled the fence about getting pregnant as he got up and followed Quinn to his bedroom. “So what did you and your brothers talk about?”

  “Trying to strategize about how to get that debt off your back. It doesn’t belong to you, and we’re not gonna let you take the fall for it.”

  “Did you come up with any ideas?” Stevie looked around nervously as Quinn closed the door. The bedroom was a nice size, with a heavy-looking bed in the middle of the room. It was huge, too. Stevie could probably roll a few times before he reached the other side of it.

  The tan carpet under his feet looked worn, like it had been installed when the house was built. The walls were a weird avocado color, and the dressers looked as though they’d seen better days.

  “You have a nice, um, room.”

  Quinn chuckled. “It needs a makeover. It’s been this way since I was a kid.”

  Stevie remembered that Beatrice O’Brien had raised her nephews. He wanted to ask what had happened to Quinn’s parents but decided not to. If Quinn wanted him to know he would tell him. Stevie wasn’t one to dig into someone’s past, just like he didn’t want anyone digging into his. It wasn’t polite, and Stevie hated that most already knew about his messed-up family.

  The drunken father who cared only for himself. The alcoholic mother who pretended her life didn’t suck. The kid who wanted to escape it all. That was what it had all boiled down to.

  So who was Stevie to ask about Quinn’s absent parents?

  “Look.” Quinn sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed and removed his boots. “I’m not pressuring you into anything. I promise, so you can get that frightened look off your face.”

  “I’m just not sure about this whole baby thing.” He sat next to Quinn. “Talking with Layne helped, but I’m still in a bind and might not be alive in two weeks.”

  Quinn narrowed his gray eyes. “Don’t say that. Nothing is gonna happen to you.”

  Stevie wished he were that confident. If he didn’t pay off his father’s gambling debt, he just might be celebrating his twenty-fifth birthday from his grave.

  * * * *

  After a nice dinner, which Nomad had cooked—Stevie would’ve never guessed the guy had such sweet culinary skills—he took a nap. The day had worn him down, and Stevie wanted some rest.

  When he’d finally awakened, he lay there in the dark, thinking about when he’d first come out to his father. No, that wasn’t right. Stevie had confided in his mother, and while drunk, she’d told his dad.

  That night had been the first time Cliff had laid hands on Stevie. The cops had been called, and Cliff had ended up in jail for the abuse, but Stevie’s mom had let him come back home once he was released.

  Stevie had begged Lara to leave her husband, not to let Cliff return. He’d never been a good guy. Not that Stevie could recall. His parents had argued all the time, if not over booze then over money.

  Stevie had spent most of his childhood either at Layne’s or hiding out in his room, hoping his dad would forget that he even existed.

  He should’ve never gone down memory lane. Now Stevie wanted to cry, and he didn’t do that often. That was one reason why he’d clung to his friends so hard. They were the shining light in his darkened world.

  “You awake?”

  Stevie nearly jumped out of the bed at the sound of Quinn’s voice. He hadn’t realized the guy was lying behind him. His heart was thumping a thousand beats a second as he flipped over and stared at Quinn.

  The guy’s smile was breathtaking. The bedside lamp was on, and Quinn had his hands tucked under his head. Stevie was trying not to openly gawk at him—no shirt, amazing body, sexy grin.

  “I guess I forgot I wasn’t at home.” Stevie wiped at his forehead. “Hearing someone behind me scared me.”

  Quinn reached for him, but Stevie hesitated.

  “No pressure.” Quinn coaxed Stevie to lie on his chest. Stevie concentrated on Quinn’s heartbeat as his nerves slowly calmed. “What were you thinking about?”

  “Unpleasant memories.” Stevie rested his hand on Quinn’s stomach. His skin was warm, and Stevie admitted to himself that he liked being this close to Quinn.

  His mate.

  That fact was still unbelievable. There had been a part of Stevie that had been envious of Layne when his friend had first started dating Nash. Not just because an O’Brien had been interested in his friend but because they’d looked so good together. Stevie had wanted someone who looked at him that way.

  “Want to talk about those unpleasant memories?” Quinn asked.

  “Not really.” Stevie didn’t want to share his miserable childhood with anyone. It was bad enough Layne, Horace, and Stanton already knew about it. So did Layne’s parents. And a lot of people in town.

  Stevie groaned. A lot of people knew about it. Even so, it wasn’t a subject he wanted to talk about.

  “It’s not difficult.”

  Stevie looked up at Quinn, his handsome face growing somber. “Care to tell me what you’re talking about?”

  Quinn sat up, resting his hands in his lap. He still had his jeans on, but Stevie’s mind raced, imagining Quinn peeling them off and throwing them aside.

  Still fully dressed, except for his shoes, Stevie had gotten hard as the dirty thoughts raced through his mind. He was thankful his jeans hid his erection, though his hardness made it uncomfortable to sit.

  “Life,” Quinn said. “Sure, it knocks you down, but you have to get right back up, and sometimes you have to take a swing at it.”

  Stevie ripped his gaze from Quinn’s lap. “Why’re you telling me that?”

  “Why’re you staring at my dick?”

  Stevie’s face heated as he looked away. “Was not.”

  Quinn gave a hearty chuckle that sent waves of pleasure through Stevie’s body. “You’re a terrible liar, kitten. I know what lust looks like, and your eyes are drowning in it.”

  Stevie turned back around and waved a hand at Quinn. “You got a nice body. So what if I was staring? That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “I was telling you all that because I know you’re terrified of Neal, and I don’t blame you. I also know you don’t believe me when I say I ain’t letting anything happen to you.”

  “Mr. Bodega is scum who probably has tons of lowlifes working for him. Neal is proof of that. How’re you gonna stop him?”

  Not that Stevie knew Mr. Bodega. He’d never heard of the guy before Neal had come along. But someone like that had to be scum. Right?

  “For one night let’s set those worries aside. Let’s just chill and enjoy each other’s company. What do you say? I could light the fire pit in the backyard, and we can see who the mosquitoes love the most.”

  Stevie heard the distant sound of thunder. A storm was approaching, moving closer from the sound of it. “I guess that idea is out.”

  Stevie got up and looked out the window, watching as streaks of lightning cut through the darkened sky. For a
brief second everything could be seen—the houses across the street, the cars parked in driveways and at the curb. The abundance of trees that rose higher than the houses.

  The lightning was brighter than the streetlights.

  Quinn moved in behind him. “I love storms. The rain washes everything away, and the smell of ozone is intoxicating.”

  “Unless you’re caught in it,” Stevie said. “Then you’re just a drowned rat.”

  Stevie inhaled a quick breath when Quinn curled his fingers around his sides. There was something about being so close to Quinn that shot wave after wave of desire through Stevie.

  “You don’t like getting wet?” Quinn’s voice was a deep rumble, matching the thunder outside. Welcoming, but frightening, the moment, the intensity of them being so close.

  “I think we should get away from the window.” Stevie turned, but Quinn didn’t step away. Now they were facing each other, and Stevie was staring into those pretty gray eyes, wishing things could be different, that he didn’t have a thug after him, threatening to end his life.

  God how he wanted to believe Quinn that he would protect him, that his life wouldn’t be over when he didn’t give the money Cliff owed. But Stevie’s life had never been easy, never gone the way he wanted it to. Why would it start now?

  Quinn enveloped Stevie in his large arms and stared down at him as if Stevie were the only person in the world. The charged air, the chemistry between them, all was too much of a temptation to resist. When Quinn lowered his head, Stevie didn’t turn away, couldn’t force himself to let their time together end.

  He wanted Quinn’s lips on him, wanted to taste the man who was willing to put himself in danger in order to keep Stevie safe. Just one kiss. That was all Stevie wanted, needed.

  Their lips met just as another clap of thunder crashed in the distance. His first kiss from Quinn, and it was electrifying, stealing Stevie’s very breath.

  Quinn’s lips were soft, warm, and his tongue delved deep as Stevie arched his back, moaning from the sheer delight of being kissed by this mountainous man. The passion in that single act had Stevie forgetting all the reasons he should stop Quinn, should back away and go sleep on the couch.