“Honestly, Quinn, you need to get a stiffer drink.” Quinn smiled as she watched Darcy empty a mini-bottle of Jack Daniels into a glass.
“You do realize that each of those minibar bottles are probably twice as expensive as any drink we’d get here, right?”
“Yeah, I know. Lisbeth used her credit card to reserve the room.”
Darcy clanked her tumbler with Quinn’s beer. “Here’s to Lisbeth for paying out her nose for our drinks. And to us for surviving six hours of pure shopping hell!”
“Amen to that!” Quinn laughed and took a sip.
Darcy threw back her drink in one long gulp. “Ah, that’s good,” she sighed.
They spotted Lisbeth and her college student walking up the stairs leading to the auditorium, the guy’s hand resting shamelessly on her ass.
“She lives for that type of attention, you know?” Darcy nodded toward Lisbeth.
She certainly was in a league of her own. Lisbeth had the type of look that would work on a Paris runway. “I’m sure she gets a lot of it.”
Darcy nodded. “It’s been that way ever since grade school. She juggles guys like a circus act. The only guy who’s ever turned her down is Ewan.”
Quinn raised her eyebrows. “Ewan McKenna?”
“Yep. He shot her down,” Darcy said, providing sound effects as her hand dove from above her head and crashed onto the table.
The thought of him kissing and touching another woman like he’d done to her last weekend was unsettling. Little hints from Erin and Darcy indicated that he wasn’t exactly an angel when it came to women. Since Ewan had pinned her up against the wall and kissed the sense out of her, she could understand why. His pull was irresistible. The power and virility pouring out of him were enough to make her drunk.
Even though he’d kissed her, he’d pretty much shot her down afterwards. What else could she call it? She’d practically thrown herself at him and he wasn’t interested.
Quinn wasn’t the lusty type. Unlike Lisbeth, she could admire a man’s looks without immediately fantasizing what it would be like to be in bed with him. But at some point since she’d met Ewan in that dark alley, things had changed. Her thoughts had strayed to not only thinking he was attractive but to a strong urge to rip his shirt off so she could run her hands down his chest. Although her experience with men was limited, she knew his wicked mouth and hands might just make her self-implode.
“Fuck me,” Darcy whispered. Quinn looked her way and saw her friend’s eyes were wide with panic. She turned to see Sean McKenna approaching the table. And directly behind him was Ewan.
Quinn almost laughed from the absurdity of seeing him in a place like this. Why in the world was he here?
Of all the small college performing arts center grand openings…
She watched as if the crowd parted for them like the Red Sea. Sean, the golden-haired Apollo, followed by his dark, imposing shadow.
“Jesus, are we glad to see you girls,” Sean said, hooking Darcy around the neck and giving her a rough kiss on the top of her head.
“Get off,” Darcy insisted. Her cheeks heated a little as she shrugged him off. Sean just grinned as he took the seat next to her.
Quinn gave both men a small smile. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Potential client. Ewan’s here as my date.”
Quinn glanced over at Ewan, who was looking her way. Not surprisingly, he looked as chipper as ever with his sullen expression.
She tried to keep any sign that she felt uncomfortable off her face. The last time she’d seen him she’d been giving him a thorough oral exam with her tongue. Sure, she felt excited butterflies dancing in her stomach at the sight of him. But she really needed to shut that down immediately.
“Would you care to sit?” Quinn asked Ewan, who was standing there like a grumpy statue near the table. Without replying, he hiked a leg up and took the seat next to her.
“What’s this?” Sean asked, picking up Gavin’s business card from the table where Quinn had placed it.
“One of Quinn’s many admirers.” Darcy smirked in her direction.
“Art history professor, huh?” Sean pursed his lips. “I’m not sure I’d date a dude who got off on talking about old, crusty paintings.”
Quinn grabbed the card from his fingers. “There’s nothing wrong with being cultured. He was a nice guy.”
Sean smirked. “Must be a girl thing. Darcy had a thing for our economics teacher in high school. Mr. Peters.”
“Ack! I did not!”
He laughed. “I saw the way you batted your eyes at him. You clambered to get into the front row in all his classes.”
“I wanted to be able to see the board! And I didn’t bat my eyes at him.” Darcy looked at Quinn. “Mr. Peters was probably close to 285 pounds, and the poor man had pockmarks all over his face.” She looked back at Sean. “You’re awful. And you’re one to talk. You told me countless times how you’d pop a boner every time you saw Mrs. Barrington.”
“Now that’s a true statement.” Sean pointed at Darcy. “It was like Basic Instinct every time she would sit on the edge of her desk and uncross her legs. God, I loved physics class.”
“A lot of guys loved physics,” Darcy mumbled.
“Ewan actually got a private tutoring session, didn’t you? You got to experience applied physics if you catch my meaning,” Sean said with an exaggerated wink.
Quinn’s eyes shot to Ewan and her throat went dry.
“You fucked Mrs. Barrington?” Darcy asked, clearly aghast. “You couldn’t have been eighteen yet. She statutory raped you!”
“It was two years ago. Right after her divorce.” Ewan shrugged.
Quinn didn’t realize she’d narrowed her eyes and was frowning. She tried not to picture Ewan in bed with a striking Sharon Stone lookalike but was failing miserably. Envy curled in the pit of her stomach.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed it aside. Ewan was definitely free to sleep with whomever he wanted. He’d made it clear that she wasn’t his type, and that was fine. But still she wondered what Mrs. Barrington had that she didn’t.
“Looks like you girls could use some drinks. What’ll it be?” Sean asked.
“I’m good,” Quinn said, holding up her half-empty glass.
“I’m not paying for the shit drinks here,” Darcy replied.
“I know one of the bartenders over there. We’ve been drinking for free all evening. Come on, I’ll introduce you,” Sean said to Darcy, and the two of them headed to the far corner of the lobby.
Ewan sat silently beside Quinn, his hands clasped loosely on the table. She tried not to notice how good he looked in his dark trousers and black shirt. His sleeves were rolled up his forearms, and his top button was open, displaying smooth skin at the center of his collarbone. His dark hair was an alluring mix of styled and messy, and his customary dark stubble dotted his chin.
“How long have you been here?” she asked.
He took a deep breath. “Too long.”
She smiled because she knew what he meant. She’d agreed to come along only to be polite. She’d much rather be back in Ballagh working on the pergola.
Even in the loud room, the silence between her and Ewan made her uncomfortable. “Have you heard Rory’s band play before?”
He nodded. “Yeah, they’ve played at the pub a few times.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
There was more silence. She was acutely aware that his eyes didn’t wander the crowded room like hers did. His eyes wandered her. At the moment, he seemed to be staring at her foot which was sticking out from under the table.
“So who’s watching the pub tonight?”
He looked up at her, and miracle of all miracles, one side of his mouth pulled up into a grin. “Do you always ask so many questions?”
She felt her lips part and her lower jaw fall open. His face was… God, it was brilliant. A dimple appeared on his cheek, and she wondered if he actually did smile if he would have dimp
les on both cheeks. His grin completely transformed his face from brooding to breathtaking.
She realized she was staring and blushed. “You should definitely smile more.”
“Why’s that?” The grin lost some of its humor but it still stayed on his face.
“Because it actually makes you look approachable,” she teased.
“And why would I want to do something stupid like that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because looking so downtrodden all the time is not the social norm?”
“Who says downtrodden?”
She laughed. “Apparently I do. Do you prefer demoralized, depressed, dour?”
The grin slowly faded and he just studied her face. His dark eyes lingered momentarily on her lips before moving back to meet hers.
“You look hot.”
Quinn felt her eyes widen and her heart jump up into her throat. He thought she looked hot? Thank goodness for whatever material was making her boobs look so good. She was about to return the compliment, not just because he had said something polite to her but because it was the honest-to-God truth that he was the sexiest man in the room, when he spoke again.
“Maybe if you took your sweater off, you wouldn’t be so hot.”
Holy mother of God, she’d been just about to make an absolute ass of herself. She felt deflated. She slid her arms out of her sweater and hung it over the back of her chair. She instantly felt better, even though she was beyond embarrassed.
Trying desperately to change the subject, she said, “So are you—”
“I gotta piss,” Ewan abruptly cut her off. Without so much as a look back at Quinn, he left the table.
Quinn sat stunned and blinked after him as he weaved his way through the crowd.
She didn’t know whether to be offended by his lack of manners or to laugh at how unbelievably uncouth he was or wonder why his continued rude behavior even surprised her.
She shook her head.
She drank the last of her beer and set the glass down on the table. Darcy was off getting free whiskey with Sean. Lisbeth was probably to third base by now with her college boy, and Erin enjoyed being a groupie sitting on the side of the stage next to Rory as he tuned his guitar.
And apparently, Ewan had to piss.
She looked down at her outfit and frowned. What a complete waste of time and money. She grabbed her clutch, slid off her stool, and before too long was pushing out the exit into the cooling night air.
Chapter 10
Ewan splashed water onto his face in the men’s restroom. He opened his eyes as he stared down into the porcelain sink and watched the water drip from his nose and chin.
He bit his lip hard, hoping the pain would distract him.
But he soon realized that all the cold water and lip biting in the world wasn’t going to do anything to douse the painful throbbing of his goddamn erection.
The moment Quinn had slipped her arms out of her sweater, he’d felt the blood start to pool in his groin. It was all he could do to get to the men’s room without anyone noticing he’d pitched a fucking teepee in his pants.
Whatever top she had on should be banned in public. When she had her sweater on, he hadn’t noticed that the top portion of her shirt was see-through. And he certainly hadn’t noticed how her breasts pushed against the sheer fabric. God above, she had one sexy set of shoulders. Slender and graceful, the indentions just begging to be licked. Her long, bare neck… Fuck!
He bared his teeth as he pushed away from the sink. The tightness in his boxer briefs was beyond uncomfortable.
What the fuck was this woman doing to him?
Why her?
He didn’t need her type of complication in his life. He needed predictability. He needed balance and control.
He needed the type of situation where he’d go to bed with a woman at night and be alone the next morning. That was what he wanted. That was the only way he wanted it.
A normal relationship with a normal woman was not in the cards for him. Because a normal woman deserved much better than a guy with an unforgivable past.
He didn’t realize he had started pacing until he caught his reflection in the mirror. Jesus, since when did he get so caught up in shit like this? He didn’t pace. And he didn’t let a woman lead him around by his dick either. He needed to put a stop to this increasingly annoying infatuation once and for all. It wouldn’t be that hard of a task to insult her so much that she’d avoid him. Maybe she’d even leave Ballagh and go back to Pittsburgh.
He pushed out of the men’s restroom, his body humming with anticipation. He had to be sure to go about this the right way. No more being friendly. She needed to think twice before ever getting involved with a dick like him.
The sun had thankfully set, which made it much easier to see when he returned to the crowded lobby. As he slowly made his way back to their table on the far side of the room, he noticed Pamela Shazier by the front entrance, unabashedly undressing him with her eyes.
The older woman gave him an idea.
He needed a prop. Not Shazier, since fucking around with her could jeopardize Sean’s business deal. He needed another woman. A younger one. He’d invite her over to their table with the offer of a drink, then some blatant flirting, maybe some inappropriate touching, some suggestive gestures…
What better way to get Quinn running for the hills than to make himself look like the biggest womanizing dick in the room?
Mind made up, he headed toward a large group of college students who had settled by the nearest bar. He pulled up short when he glanced over at the table he’d left Quinn at.
She was gone.
He quickly scanned the room, instant relief washing over him when he spotted the pretty-boy professor talking to a small group of college students. But the relief was short-lived as he realized that the professor wasn’t the only fucker who’d been watching Quinn all evening.
Irritation bloomed in his chest as he sought her out amongst the party goers. He couldn’t see her anywhere. Had she left with someone else?
A quick guitar melody swirled around the room and was soon joined by a bass and banjo. As the crowd settled in to be entertained by Rory Hughes’s band, Ewan leaned against the wall and tried to come to grips with something he wasn’t accustomed to feeling.
Jealousy.
###
The weather had finally caught up to them. It had been warm and sunny for a good two weeks, and Quinn had been thoroughly spoiled. But after the wonderful days of perfect weather, Mother Nature must have said, “Enough is enough.” Luckily for Quinn, she’d managed to get the garden planted and the pergola constructed before the rains came.
It was late Thursday evening and she couldn’t sleep. She’d been sick of staring at the ceiling. Staring at the wall hadn’t been much better, and she’d counted herds of sheep with no success. She’d thrown off her covers, zipped herself into a white hooded sweatshirt, and stormed out into the damp, chilly night. In hindsight, the sweatshirt had been a good call but her cotton pajama shorts did nothing to shield her legs from the cold.
The gloomy weather seemed to match her mood. In fact, she’d been low the entire week. Quinn mostly vacillated between sad and annoyed. Sad that life didn’t seem to be getting any easier and annoyed that she allowed herself to be sad in the first place.
Some days she was more patient with herself than others, but tonight wasn’t one of them.
The night was still and the air thick with the smell of wet earth. The moisture in the air hung like a shroud. The rain wasn’t over for the evening. It was probably only a matter of time before the skies opened up again.
Despite the chill, the frogs still sang their evening songs in the nearby creeks and ponds. Their yeeps combined with Quinn’s heavy footsteps were the only sounds she could hear.
She hadn’t seen Ewan at all that week. She’d kept herself busy so she wouldn’t have to think about him. She was so conflicted about the darkly handsome bartender that she did
n’t know what to think. Just when she’d find herself forgetting about him, he’d pop back into her life and do something more confounding than the last.
In the month since she’d been in Ballagh, he’d gone from reluctantly helping her to kissing her senseless and then back to being a complete jackass.
Then last weekend he’d proven he could actually have a polite conversation—and even smile—before turning completely frigid and unmannerly.
He couldn’t seem to make up his mind whether he liked her or not. And not just like her as in physically. Simply like her as in finding it acceptable to be in her presence.
More disturbing to her, though, were her feelings for him. Despite the fact that he was giving her whiplash, she found herself wanting to be around him. She wanted to see if she could get him to smile more. Get him to open up a little. She wanted to crack the strange nut that was Ewan McKenna and find out what was going on inside his hard shell. But the more and more she thought of it, she wondered if it was really worth the effort.
As she walked along the hedges toward the Blue Hills Reservation, the gentle mist that had been floating in the air was turning into a light drizzle. Just as she was about to turn back toward her aunt’s house, she stilled.
There were voices coming from far off in the distance. They were faint, but…yes, she most definitely heard voices.
She continued walking, and before too long, she spotted a group of people standing together under the dim light of a lamppost. It was the last lamppost along the road before it rose up into the hills of the reservation.
As she drew near, their voices grew louder, and they looked to be…cheering? Her first instinct was to forget about it and return home, realizing that no good could come from a gathering of obnoxious people in the wee hours of the night. But then she recognized two of Rory’s bandmates, Tommie and Ian, yelling with the rest of the crowd.
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