Gillian turned her head to the side. If he wasn’t mistaken a tear or two slid down her cheeks, but before he could explore it further, she matched his thrusts and it brought him right to the edge again. He was so close right there, but he wanted her to come first.
He squeezed his hand between them and teased her clit, rubbed the nub until she shuddered beneath him and warmth surrounded him. Only then did he allow himself to trip over the edge and join her.
Quint’s breathing evened out. For a moment Gillian thought he’d nodded off. When she was about to get up and let him sleep, he ran his hands over his face and through his hair. He shifted up on his elbow and regarded her with wary eyes. He opened his mouth twice, closed it again until he finally said, “Why didn’t you tell me? That you were a virgin.”
“Not really a conversation starter. ‘Oh, by the way, you’re the first guy I’ve ever slept with.’” She took several deep breaths, tried to steady her nerves. “I got caught up in the moment.” What else could she say? That she’d wanted him to be her first. That she was actually afraid he’d stop if he knew the truth.
A deep frown creased his forehead. “Wait a minute. How is Heidi…if you’re…?” He sat up so quickly, Gillian couldn’t hang on to the sheet. She covered her bare breast with her crossed arms; the rough cast abraded her sensitive skin.
“I think you need to explain.”
The harsh tone to his voice cut through her gut. “I am Heidi’s mother.”
Quint shifted his feet off the bed and turned his back to her. “That’s not possible.”
“My sister Becca gave birth to her. When Becca…died, I adopted Heidi.”
There was a long moment of silence before he asked, “How old were you, when your sister died?”
“Eighteen.”
“Man.” Quint ran a hand over his neck. “How old were you when Heidi was born?”
“Fourteen.”
His shoulders stiffened. “So you’re thirty?”
Gillian narrowed her eyes at his back. “What does it matter?”
He turned and looked at her. “I’m wondering how many other things you’ve lied about.”
“I never lied about my age. No one ever asked me. If you assumed something, that’s not my fault. I am Heidi’s mother legally, emotionally and anyway that matters. Anything past that is none of your damn business.” She hurried from the bed and scooped up her T-shirt. “You know, you have a lot of nerve. I have a child I have to take care of, to protect. If I neglect to give you information that will keep her safe…” She shook with anger. “When have you ever had to be accountable for anyone other than yourself, been responsible for any damn thing?”
“Who are you to judge me? I didn’t come waltzing in to town pretending to be all these things that I’m not.”
“I have not pretended…” All the fire and heat of anger drained away from her. Why was she fighting? Whether the intent was not the same, he was right. She’d lied through omission. She’d deceived him. She expected him to accept it as no big deal, when her way of dealing with it was to ignore it. He was entitled to his anger, but she didn’t have to sit there and let him lecture her.
In an almost whispered voice she said, “I think maybe you should leave.”
“I think maybe you’re right.” Quint rummaged around the room until he was fully dressed.
Once he walked out and down the hall, Gillian flopped back onto the bed. She cried, but only for a minute. She had never wallowed in self-pity and had no plans to start now. She scrambled around the room and gathered up her clothes then dressed. The front door slammed and she sat heavy on the bed. A moment later, Heidi popped her head around the corner of the bedroom door.
“You sleeping already?”
Gillian’s cheeks flamed. “I, uh…” How was she going to explain Quint’s leaving?
“You look funny. Do I need to call someone for you? Missy? Quint?”
“Quint?”
“He’s probably still out at the field. Do you want me to go find him?”
How had he gotten out of the house without her daughter seeing him? Gillian scrubbed her hand over her face. “No. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You look terrible.”
“Thanks.” She smiled and patted the bed next to her. “So tell me, how was it?”
Heidi smiled broader than Gillian had seen in well over a year. “It was so cool. I have never seen so many fireworks in my life. Well, I’ve never seen any in person before anyway.”
Gillian’s chest tightened. Just chalk it up to another way she’d failed. Tears threatened again, but she would not let them fall in front of her daughter.
Heidi continued talking. “Then Ryder walked me all the way home.”
“Did he kiss you good night?”
“Mo-om.”
“What?” Gillian sighed. “I know we had ‘the talk’ when you were twelve, but it doesn’t cover what it’s like when your heart is involved.”
Heidi frowned. “What’s that?”
Gillian chuckled. “Don’t change the subject.”
“No, look.” Heidi pointed to the window.
An orange light emanated from the backyard.
“Fireworks?” Gillian rose from the bed determined not to look back at the rumpled sheets and the reminder of what she’d shared with Quint and how quickly it had turned.
Heidi snagged the back of Gillian’s shirt. “No. They ended fifteen minutes ago.”
Gillian pulled the curtain aside. The little shed in the backyard was on fire. Embers rained down within feet of the back of the house.
“Call the fire department.” Gillian ran through the house and out into the yard in her bare feet and turned on the backyard hose but the deficient water pressure did little to battle the flames. It was difficult to hold the hose with her cast behind her back, but she did manage to soak the grass pretty well. But if any of the embers floated up to the roof of the house…
“They’re coming.” Heidi ran up beside Gillian. “What can I do?”
“I want you to run down to Missy’s house and stay there until I come get you.”
Heidi grabbed Gillian’s shoulder and pulled her toward the house. “Mom?”
“Just go.” Gillian jerked free and motioned Heidi toward the back gate. “Now.”
The teen left with no more argument. A few minutes later the first of the fire department arrived, hoses, axes and all. Quint led the charge.
“You need to get out of here. Let us take over.”
Though he was in fireman mode, his matter of fact tone might as well have been a slap across her face. She handed him the running hose and hurried around the house to the front lawn. A couple more of the fireman showed up and joined Quint in the back. Hank arrived a couple of minutes later. “You okay, girl?”
“Yes.”
He nodded and rushed to the back with the other men.
Time passed in slow motion as neighbor after neighbor joined her on the front lawn. Missy ran down the block with Cade right behind her. “Hey, hon.”
“Is Heidi okay?” Gillian tightened her arms around herself.
“She’s fine. I wanted to come check on you.” Missy looped her arm over Gillian’s shoulders.
“I’m fine.” She said the words, but the trembling throughout her body screamed otherwise.
She couldn’t shake the fear that Rick had found her, but he couldn’t have. There was no way he could possibly find her and Heidi in Wyoming. Even if he’d tracked them to Montana, her little accident that put them in a town she’d never heard of and should make it impossible for him to find the Harwoods. But as he’d already proven, he was quite the resourceful man.
Still she didn’t think a fire—of her shed—was his style. The man had torched the home of his girlfriend after he murdered her knowing full-well her daughter was somewhere inside. If he’d gotten this close to them, there would be no doubt. It still didn’t explain what was going on.
Her knees shook. “I need t
o sit down.”
Missy steered her to the curb and sat with her. “I’m sure it’ll be okay.” The woman rubbed her back assuming the fire had knocked the wind out of Gillian.
“How?” The question applied to so many things. She hadn’t meant to say it aloud.
Missy answered, “There’s no telling. Maybe a stray firework.”
A stray spark that managed to avoid three blocks of homes and land on her shed? No, that was as far-fetched as Rick being near. Before she could say anything, Quint and Hank walked out onto the front lawn.
“Fire’s out.” Quint swiped at his damp forehead. “I need to speak with you for a minute.”
Quint guided Gillian to a semi-private patch of yard. He couldn’t name the emotions that ran rampant through him. He’d left the house and all but ducked behind some bushes so Gillian’s daughter wouldn’t catch him—catch him sneaking out of his own damn home.
His brain couldn’t even wrap around the fact the woman was a virgin. On the one hand, his chest wanted to burst because she’d chosen him to be her first. But the lies that went with it all… He was so damn confused. Deception was deception no matter how you twisted it, but as she’d said, it wasn’t really a conversation starter. He wasn’t even sure he had the right to feel betrayed.
Then the damn fire. He’d barely made it to Main Street when the call had come through. Had he not been within ear-shot of the station he wouldn’t have been one of the first on the scene. Every fiber in his being screamed with fear for Gillian and her daughter. And she’d been standing there with a damned garden hose trying to control the blaze. So many things had run through him: pride, fear, lingering anger and not the least of which was the fact the woman was crazy to battle a fire by herself. Too many emotions to put together and make sense.
“Did you get your cast wet?”
“What?” She frowned and glanced down at the hot pink cast. “No. It’s fine.”
He nodded. “Can you tell me what happened? With the fire.” He had questions about what happened between them and what didn’t happen, her telling him the truth from the beginning. Not to mention he couldn't shake the feeling there was much more to the story. Now was not the time though. He needed to focus on one thing: the fire.
“Um, Heidi came home. We were talking about the fireworks.” Her cheeks reddened and her gaze shifted away from his. “Next thing, we saw the glow of the fire through the window.” Gillian cradled her cast. “I don’t know anything else. How did it start? Can you tell?”
Quint stared at her for a long moment. Two fires since she’d come to town. He rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. There’d only been three fires in all of last year. None suspicious. Until the Harwoods arrived. He ran through the possibilities of how or who started it. Again, he’d just barely made it out of the house before Heidi came bouncing down the walk with Ryder in tow.
The teen wouldn’t have had time to set something so quickly. For the most part neither would Gillian. From the time he left until he’d gotten the call, he shook his head, it was too engulfed. It didn’t make any sense. It’d almost had to have been set while he was still there.
His stomach rolled.
“We’ll investigate.” In daylight, they might find the point of origin. The little shed was mostly empty, only a few hand tools he’d used to work on the gate and in the yard otherwise the fire might have been fiercer. If the winds had been much stronger it could have jumped to one of the neighbors’ yard and spread.
“Was it an accident?” Gillian glanced around them.
Strange question. Paranoid almost.
“We’ll investigate. Until then.” He shrugged. “I can’t say one way or the other.”
She nodded and hugged her arms to her chest.
Quint wanted to grab and hold her, but he was still too confused from all he’d learned earlier. “Okay. Bye.” He left her standing there. He made it to his truck when a hand landed on his shoulder.
He sighed and stood with his shoulders straight. He didn’t have to turn to know what was coming next. “Hi, Aunt Zan.”
When he didn’t move, she walked around to squeeze in front of him. “Why did you just walk away from her like that?”
He held her gaze. “What do you mean?”
“You acted like…”
“Like I’m doing a job.”
She frowned, shook her head and left him standing next to his truck. “Like an ass.”
Chapter Thirteen
Once Quint got back to his small house at Skipping Rocks Ranch, he hadn’t shaken Gillian’s odd behavior. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew deep in his gut she hadn’t started the fire; still, she’d been too jumpy, scared almost. And he’d left her standing there. Alone.
He shook his head. He hadn’t handled one thing right with that woman since she got to town.
Too wired to sleep, he got on the computer to see what he might turn up on her on the internet. Googling her name didn’t come up with any hits on the first couple of pages for her. He was about to shut down his computer but a link at the bottom of page caught his attention: Gillian and Heidi’s names.
It was a year-old link for a Mobile, Alabama newspaper. The article referenced a ten-year-old trial where a man named Richard Damon was convicted on several drug charges despite the prosecution’s key witness, Becca Harwood, being gunned down in front of her four-year-old daughter. The house was then set on fire.
“Holy effing shit.” Quint scrubbed his tired eyes.
He read on and his stomach churned. It was speculated Rick Damon did the deed himself, but with all the charges he already faced, the prosecution wouldn’t make the daughter testify, assuming she hadn’t been so traumatized from the whole event in the first place and could have ID’ed him if pressed. The man served his time and was released. The prosecution was considering charging him in the murder of Becca Harwood, but according to the article they didn’t have a strong case against the man.
Quint tried to remember everything Gillian’d said since he’d met her. They’d lived in several states. And were on their way to Montana—they were getting as far away from Mobile as possible.
The argument they’d had at the Cates’ party popped in his head. She’d railed at him for being a whiner about his dad. She’d lost all of her family and didn’t have the option of self-appointed distance. It was down to Gillian and Heidi and no one else.
He groaned. Add another point to the Quint sucks where Gillian is concerned column. The tally grew leaps and bounds every time he came in contact with the woman.
Gillian lost her sister, her home and became an adoptive mother all during the summer after she graduated high school. The most difficult thing he’d ever had to deal with when he was eighteen was picking what college to attend. And even then he applied solely to the one on the bottom of his father’s list.
His admiration tripled for Gillian—hell, every little piece of information gave her more character, will and determination than any other person he knew. He couldn’t imagine having to make the choices she did. Though she didn’t really have a choice. Motherhood was thrust upon her—she’d taken it willingly. She never complained, never bemoaned anything.
It explained so much. Her reluctance to share her past. The fact that he was the first man she’d ever been with. She hadn’t lied about the reasons. They just didn’t make sense. Until now.
He couldn’t help but wonder. For the last twelve years, had she had anyone to help her? Anyone to give her support?
Not once had she mentioned a friend.
How could she not go insane with loneliness? Despite not wanting to be under his father’s thumb, when he’d chosen to move, he stayed close to family, needing that connection with his aunts. That had been his reason for coming to Wyoming.
But Gillian was there by accident.
He leaned back in his chair and watched the screensaver dance around his laptop.
So many more things fell into place.
No credit cards. M
anny had mentioned it one afternoon; he thought she’d made a great life-choice to live debt free. Quint would bet it was to limit any paper trails.
Her reluctance to give up any information. She’d been running for over a year. Had that man threatened them in some way; was she protecting her daughter? Heidi’s safety was first and foremost on her mind. She said so herself. Being sequestered out in the middle of nowhere by accident wasn’t in her plans, but it also put her ever further off the grid, in a place you didn’t find without a reason. If he hadn’t broken her arm, she’d be somewhere folks were expecting her. In Paintbrush, she was hidden in plain sight.
He’d always wondered why she hadn’t moved on—broken arm aside. So many answers and he didn’t even know there were questions. It made sense. The way Gillian went about things. She just did. Did what needed to be done.
Quint propped his feet up on the corner of his desk. She was right. He’d never had to be accountable for anything. Sure, when he’d quit the Dallas Fire Department, he’d given up his spot so one of the older guys didn’t get cut and lose their pension benefits. He’d like to think it was a magnanimous decision but truth be told, he didn’t care that much about the job and it had been easy to walk away.
Same with baseball. When he’d gotten sent down to the minors and then hurt his knee for the third time that season, calling it quits had been easy. He’d started playing ball to please his dad. Stopping pleased only him. Then he’d up and moved to Wyoming.
“But five years later and I’m still hanging on here.” He tucked his hands behind his head and let his eyes flutter shut.
Working with Jacob had been the best decision he’d made to date. Working on the ranch he didn’t feel hemmed in to a life that he hadn’t picked. Not to mention, clean, fresh air all the while doing something he loved.
To him, ambition was doing something you enjoyed, not something your daddy had handpicked for you from the moment you were born.
And again if he could kick his own ass for being a whiner, he would have.
Gillian didn’t have the chance to piss and moan about what was thrown at her. It came with all too real consequences. If he wasn’t already half in love with love her… His eyes jolted open.
Wrong Turn, Right Cowboy: Paintbrush, Book 2 Page 16