Quinn gripped the handles of her eco-friendly totes. She had gone a little overboard, but she justified the purchases as necessary pantry staples. Her cupboards were bare. The dried pasta and boxed crackers would last for months—years, if push came to shove. Fresh fruit and vegetables were always a must. When she was in the mood for a big green salad or a crunchy apple, nothing else would do.
Admittedly, she could have passed on the freshly baked Caramel Pecan Dreams. But a dozen of the irresistible treats hadn't added that much bulk to her already overflowing bags. Like the salad and the apple, when Quinn needed a sweet treat, there was no substitute for ooey-gooey. The fact that they reminded her of Ryder purely coincidental.
Shopping had been a good distraction. However, as Quinn rounded the corner and began the last of her trek home, she couldn't help but think about Zoe and her accusations. Did Ryder believe his sister? Did he think she had taken his trust and broken it into a million pieces? Money was a huge motivator. Perhaps, like Zoe, Ryder would forget everything he had learned about her and think Quinn cared more about padding her bank account than their friendship—or her love.
The truth wasn't pretty—in cases like this, it seldom was. Quinn had called a contact at the tabloid. The woman owed her a favor—a big one. She had initially balked at revealing the source—it was against the paper's policy, and even gossip rags had ethics. Of course, those ethics were surface-shallow and easily skewed to fit the situation. It didn't take Quinn long to get the information she needed.
A few years ago, she had suppressed some pictures that would have ruined the other woman's marriage. Quinn would never have published the photos. She had deleted them from the camera and destroyed the hard copy. However, a favor had been promised. Until today, Quinn hadn't been able to imagine a reason arising for her to cash it in.
Stopping halfway up the hill, Quinn set the bags on the sidewalk. She took out her phone, checking the texts and missed calls—for the tenth time. No, make that eleven. Nothing had changed. There was nothing from Ryder. Either he was still at his cabin or Zoe had gotten to him and… What? Quinn closed her eyes, her head falling back. It was the not knowing that drove her crazy. If Ryder believed the worst, Quinn wouldn't blame him. Or so she told herself. Zoe was his sister. They were enviably close with a long and emotional history. Quinn was new—a blip on his timeline. But damn it, she wanted him to at least hesitate before condemning her outright. Was that too much to expect?
Call him. It wasn't the first time the thought had crossed Quinn's mind. She ran her thumb over Ryder's number. It was tempting. With a shake of her head, she put her phone away before she gave in. The ball was in his court. He could get in touch or delete her from his life altogether. It was a depressing thought. Ryder wasn't her lover. With the push of a button, she would cease to be his friend. What would that make her? Irrelevant? Forgotten? Quinn sighed. She knew what she was. Pathetic.
Quinn had just bent to retrieve her bag when she heard the music. The faint sound of a lone guitar picking out a melody that was strangely familiar. Twinkle Twinkle Little Star? Whoever was playing wasn't an expert, but Quinn admired the effort. It was better than she could do.
As she drew closer to her apartment building, the sound grew louder. Intrigued, she recognized the young girl. Molly Ionesco lived with her mother and older brother on the third floor, one down from Quinn. Della Ionesco was a hard-working single mother who was raising two well-behaved children. They weren't close, but they would stop and chat occasionally.
"You're doing great, Molly. When did you start playing?"
"Last month. Mom bought me the guitar for my birthday. It's hard."
"So I understand. I recognized the song you were playing. That's a big accomplishment."
The ten-year-old grinned, showing Quinn the gap where her front tooth used to be. Molly was a pretty little thing with big brown eyes and straight, shoulder-length hair. She would grow into the guitar, but right now, it was almost as big as she was. Determined, the girl scrunched up her face and haltingly repeated the song.
"That's better, Molly." The voice came from behind Quinn. "Remember. Technique is easy. Play with passion. That's the secret."
Ryder. Slowly, Quinn turned as though afraid she was hearing things. He could have been an illusion, but if he were, Molly must have had the same hallucination.
"My school is having a talent contest next week." Tongue stuck out in extreme concentration, Molly played the last two notes. "All I care about is beating Tami Reinhold. She is so stuck up. Thanks for the lesson."
Waving goodbye, Molly raced up the steps and into the building, clutching her guitar to her chest.
Ryder chuckled. "Passion. Petty jealousy. Whatever works." Still smiling, he looked at Quinn. "Cute kid. She kept me company while I waited for you. It seemed only fair to give her a quick tutorial."
"I wonder what Molly will say when she finds out that Ryder Hart gave her a music lesson?"
"I introduced myself. She was not impressed."
Quinn doubted that. If she knew anything about tweener girls, Molly began burning up her social media accounts the second she entered her bedroom. As for Quinn, she tried to figure out why Ryder was here. He didn't look angry. In fact, he looked relaxed, carefree, and sexy as hell. She hadn't thought she was a beard fan. But on Ryder it worked.
"Have you spoken with Zoe?"
"I have." Ryder no longer sounded relaxed. His dark eyes narrowed. Grim. Quinn didn't know if that was directed at Zoe—or her. "Let's not talk about it out here."
Ryder took the bags from Quinn. Without a word, she started up the steps.
"I thought you would call."
"I planned on coming to see you before the crap with Zoe went down. She simply accelerated my timetable." Ryder waited until the elevator door closed behind them. "Sorry about the beard and long hair."
"The look works on you." Every look worked on Ryder.
"You think so?" Looking pleased, Ryder pulled at the curly hair above his lip. "Maybe I should keep it."
"God, no," Quinn exclaimed.
"You said it worked."
"The beard is sexy as hell, Ryder. But the world wants to see your handsome face."
"And you?" Ryder moved closer, backing Quinn against the wall. "What do you want, Quinn?"
Swallowing, Quinn opened her mouth to answer just as they arrived on her floor.
"Saved by the bell?" Ryder laughed as they walked down the hall.
"You know what I want, Ryder. Nothing has changed." Quinn opened her apartment door. Standing aside so Ryder could enter. "Just put the bags on the counter."
"Zoe screwed up."
Ryder leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. His scuffed hiking boots, faded jeans, and plaid flannel shirt suited his overall look. Mountain man chic.
"I know why she did it. You are always looking out for her. She wanted to do the same for you."
"I'm glad you understand. But that doesn't change what Zoe did. I know you had nothing to do with that story, Quinn."
"Just like that?" Relief flooded through Quinn. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. A little of both wasn't out of the question. "Not even a moment of doubt?"
"No." Ryder didn't move, but his intense gaze searched Quinn's face. "Only a fool relies on blind trust, Quinn. I knew before I read it. That article isn't your style. If you wanted to make a fast buck, you would have sold the pictures."
"I will never sell them, Ryder."
With deliberate steps, Ryder walked to her. Taking Quinn's face in his hands, he lightly kissed her lips. "I know," he whispered, kissing her again. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be here."
"I meant what I said, Ryder. Nothing has changed."
"And for me, everything has changed. I love you, Quinn. No doubts. No hesitation. I'm yours if you'll take me. Think hard," he said, covering her lips when she would have spoken. "If you say yes, you'll be stuck with me for the rest of
your life."
Quinn waited for the tears. It seemed like one of those moments when a woman was supposed to cry with happiness. When her eyes remained dry, she broke out laughing. She had never done things the way they were supposed to be done. Why start now?
"The rest of my life? I was hoping for longer. Forever and beyond."
Grinning, Ryder pulled Quinn close. "That sounds like a good song title. If you promise me first rights, you have a deal."
Needing to touch him, Quinn quickly unbuttoned Ryder's shirt. Tugging, it hit the floor followed quickly by his t-shirt.
"I have questions. Dozens of them."
"Me too." Ryder disposed of Quinn's jacket. "Do you love me?"
"Yes." Quinn sighed as Ryder kissed her neck.
"Then the rest can wait."
Before Quinn could do more than blink, Ryder sent her shirt and bra to the floor. The touch of his hands was enough to make her brain fuzzy. She wanted this—wanted him. Ryder was right. He was here. He wasn't going anywhere. And he loved her. That was all that mattered. They could fill in the details later.
"I've missed you," Ryder whispered the words in her ear, his tongue bathing her lobe before he bit down, eliciting a moan from Quinn.
"Me?" Quinn teased, cupping him between his legs. Through the heated denim, Ryder's erection jumped in her hand. "Or this."
"It's one and the same," Ryder groaned when her grip tightened. "Thank God."
Before she could think of another quip, Ryder made it clear that playtime was over. He lifted Quinn into his arms and strode toward the bedroom. All things considered, it made no sense, but a thought suddenly occurred to her.
"I have ice cream in my shopping bag."
Ryder gave her an incredulous look then burst out laughing. "I'll buy you some more. Later. Much later."
"It's salted caramel," Quinn stated, hiding her grin.
"I don't care."
"Good answer."
Taking Ryder's face between her hands, Quinn kissed him. He lowered them to the bed, never breaking contact. She couldn't get enough. His taste. The feel of his lips against hers. She was a starving woman taking her fill. Ryder was the only man who could satisfy her cravings because he was what she craved. Nobody else.
"I'm sorry. I was an idiot to let you go."
"I agree." Rolling to her knees, Quinn unfastened Ryder's jeans. She eased them over his hips and down his legs. "You came to your senses."
"I did," Ryder shuddered when she kissed the inside of his thigh. "Do you forgive me?"
"There's nothing to forgive. You're here, my love." Quinn licked Ryder's stomach, then his chest. "I love you."
"I love you." Ryder rolled Quinn to her back. "It feels good to say it. I love you, Quinn. I love you." When he heard Quinn's chuckle, Ryder smiled. "Too much?"
"Never. It's music—the sweetest you've ever played."
The look in Ryder's dark eyes made Quinn's heart beat faster. He wanted her. He loved her. It was all there. Too much? She would live a lifetime without growing tired of his words or his touch or his gaze.
"Forever?" he asked, lowering his body to hers.
Quinn opened her arms and her heart, breathing a sigh of happiness. "At least."
CHAPTER TWENTY
DINNER CONSISTED OF take-out pizza and cookies for dessert. It wasn't a grown-up choice, but Ryder figured they had plenty of time to eat healthily. Forever. He liked the sound of it. The future had always been about his music and his friends. Dalton, Ashe, and especially Zoe. Their band and their careers. That had been the focus of Ryder's life for so long. That single-minded focus had made him a very successful, very rich man. It had also almost cost him the love of his life.
"Are you cold?" Quinn asked when she felt Ryder's shudder. She pulled the blanket higher.
"I'm fine." Ryder brushed his lips over Quinn's bare shoulder. Dinner in bed with Quinn—naked. It made the food taste that much better. "Continue with what you were saying?"
"Right." Quinn reached for the last slice of pizza. The box was at the foot of the bed, and her movement gave Ryder a nice view of her rounded butt. "I understood that Zoe wanted to protect you. I admire her intentions—even though her venom was aimed at me."
"Zoe knows she was wrong."
Quinn nodded. "It's fine, Ryder. My only concern was how you would react."
"You thought I would jump to the same conclusion as my sister?"
"I wouldn't have blamed you."
"Come on. Tell the truth." Ryder searched Quinn's eyes. "You would have been disappointed."
"Disappointed, yes," Quinn nodded. "However, I hoped you would ask for my side of the story before you made your final condemnation."
"Final condemnation?"
Quinn rolled her eyes. "If you tell me that's a great title for a song, I swear…"
"No. Maybe for a head-banger band." Ryder thought about it for a second, deciding his initial instinct had been correct. "I like the way you phrase things."
Quinn hesitated. "What if there had been something damning in the article? Something private that you had shared with me?"
"It would have raised a red flag." Ryder wasn't going to lie. "I had realized that I loved you. I think—I know I would have come to you before I made my final condemnation." Ryder said the last bit with a deep, doom-laden tone.
"Funny." Quinn jabbed a finger in his ribs. Knowing his weakness, she hit his ticklish spot with admirable accuracy.
"That's playing dirty." Since Quinn didn't have a similar affliction, Ryder chose a different form of retaliation. His deep kiss turned Quinn into a sighing, pliable woman. "Now I can have my way with you."
"You already did. Twice." Smiling, Quinn pushed Ryder away. She took a sip of water before biting into her pizza. "I found the source of the story. Norris Mayhue."
"Dalton's brother-in-law?"
When Quinn nodded, Ryder reached for his phone, cursing a blue streak. "Way to bury the lead, sweetheart."
"You distracted me," Quinn reminded him. Then she mumbled, "And don't call me sweetheart."
"Get used to it. I'll be calling you all kinds of things in the years to come."
"Years to come?" Quinn beamed. Realizing what he had said and liking the sound of it, Ryder beamed back. "Will all the things you call me be nice?"
"I doubt it." Dialing Dalton, Ryder laughed. "We are bound to rub each other wrong—on occasion. Take it from someone who has spent a lot of time around people I care about. Arguments happen. It can be a good thing."
"I was young when my parents divorced. But I remember that they argued—all the time. That was not good."
Understanding her hesitation, Ryder took Quinn's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "I didn't have parental role models either. We'll figure out our own way."
"Trust and respect." Quinn brought his hand to her lips. "And love."
"We already have all three. We're way ahead of the game." Ryder met Quinn's gaze. "Sweetheart."
"You're right." She waited two beats. "Baby."
Giving her a quick kiss, Ryder nodded. "There you go."
Ryder frowned when Dalton's phone went to voicemail. He looked at the time. Eight-thirty. Unless Dalton had gotten lucky—which wasn't out of the realm of possibilities—there was no reason he shouldn't answer. After leaving a brief, call me, he hung up.
Quinn slipped out of bed. Pulling on her robe, she began cleaning up. "Are you worried?" she asked as she tossed a used napkin into the empty pizza box.
"Concerned." Tapping the keypad, Ryder brought up Ashe's number. "Dalton has always had a short fuse. He's better than he used to be, but I want to make certain he doesn't to do something stupid."
"Ryder." Ashe sounded upbeat. That was a good sign. "Tell me you have good news. Should I break out my tux?"
"You don't own a tux."
"You're right. I burned that sucker when I turned eighteen. I swore I would never wear one again, but for you an
d Quinn, I'll make an exception."
"It's a little too soon for that." Ryder had to ask Quinn to marry him before they planned the ceremony. "Is Dalton around?"
"Listen."
Ryder waited. It didn't take long for him to hear what Ashe meant. The sound was faint but distinct—like hail hitting a tin roof. Relaxing, Ryder gave Quinn a thumb's up.
"How long has he been at it?"
"Close to an hour. Dalton will wind down soon." Though Ashe tried to hide it, Ryder could hear the concern in his friend's voice. "He called his sister as soon as you left."
"He suspected it was Norris?"
"That's right. Dalton wanted confirmation before he said anything to you. You know that Maggie can't lie worth shit—especially to Dalton. The bastard got a lousy thousand bucks for the story."
"At least Dalton chose to pound his drums instead of Norris."
"It was a near thing," Ashe said, tone taking on a serious note. "It wasn't what was in the article, it was the sense of betrayal. Dalton sends his sister money every month. We all know that she doesn't see very much of it. And this is how Norris pays him back? It hit Dalton pretty hard."
"Is Zoe there?"
"I'm waiting with the bottle of bourbon. Zoe has a sympathetic shoulder. Between us, we'll get Dalton to the other side."
"Thanks, Ashe. I hate not to be there, but…" Ryder reached for Quinn. A second later, she took his hand.
"Is it all good on your end?" Ashe asked.
"Luckily, I have an understanding woman. So, yes. All's good."
"Then take care of each other. We have Dalton's back. See you when we see you, brother."
"Family comes in all kinds of packages."
Ryder should have known that Quinn would understand She had seen them together. Zoe was his sister. Ashe and Dalton were his brothers. Simple as that.
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