Neanderthal Marries Human: A Smarter Romance (Knitting in the City)

by Penny Reid

  I could imagine serious Shelly—because she was always serious—wanting to help as many strays as possible. She was still that way.

  “But the two of you are different in important ways as well.” Katherine’s smile lost some of its luster as her eyes lost some of their focus. “She’s not…open to new things, and she never did well with change. She wasn’t ever very affectionate, didn’t respond to hugs, that sort of thing.”

  “No, you’re right. I once tried to hug her and she put her hand on my face and pushed me away. Then she just kept talking like nothing had happened.”

  Katherine gave me a sympathetic smile, then gave a bantam laugh. “She doesn’t like outward displays of affection. She told me when she was fourteen that she preferred sacrifice as a demonstration of love rather than hugs and kisses.”

  I don’t know why I asked my next question, but I felt driven to it. “Was that hard for you? When she was growing up?”

  Katherine’s gaze searched mine and she seemed to be considering the question. Finally she responded, “Yes and no. I always looked for and expected the best in my children. I learned to love everything about them, but I didn’t always like it. I didn’t like that Quinn worked for criminals when he was a teenager, but I loved that he was smart and enterprising. I didn’t like that I couldn’t hold my daughter without her pushing me away, but I loved her fierce independence and individualism.”

  “And what about your oldest, Desmond Jr.?”

  She smiled at me, but it was a smile that made my heart break. “I don’t know…I think when you lose a child you forget everything you didn’t like. When I think of Des, I think of him laughing all the time, his loyalty to his family, his sense of honor, his sweetness. But I’m sure, when he was with us, he drove me crazy too.”

  I tried to return her smile but managed only a half mouth tilt. Her grip on my hand shifted and she fit my fingers between both of her palms.

  “And now we have you,” she said.

  “Me?” My eyebrows lifted then lowered. “What about me?”

  “Now we have you to discover, to love, to like.”

  “I’m weird. You should know that, if you don’t already.”

  “I’m weird too. I like math jokes too much and have opinions about people who do crossword puzzles.”

  This was surprising. “Studies show that they’re exceptionally good for keeping your brain active, retaining memories.”

  “Those studies were probably conducted by people who do crossword puzzles.”

  I lifted a single eyebrow, contemplating the possibility of investigator bias. “I honestly don’t know….”

  She chuckled, shook her head. “I’m so glad you called me. I’m so glad I get to know you.”

  I glanced at our entwined fingers. She was holding my hand and I was holding hers. Even though it might have been premature, it felt so strange, but also right and natural to have a woman with wisdom and experience who looked at me with trust and affection. I knew I lacked a mother in every way that mattered and was curious about the dynamic of mothers and daughters.

  But I didn’t know until that moment, sitting at Katherine’s kitchen table, holding hands, how desperately I wanted this relationship. I think I’d already fallen in love with the idea of her. Rationally, this was concerning because I didn’t know her very well.

  We both shifted our attention to Quinn and Desmond as they walked into the room. Quinn’s shirtsleeves were rolled up to his forearms and he was in the process of drying his hands with a towel. Desmond came in behind him holding a pie and plates.

  Quinn’s gaze met mine, held for a beat, then shifted to where his mother and I were holding hands. His expression didn’t change. Except for two or three breaks in his façade, he’d been wearing basically the same expression the entire time we’d been there.

  Impassive.

  This didn’t worry or alarm me, especially now that I saw Quinn was a carbon copy of his father. Their eyes shone with intensity and were often the only outward sign of a shift in thoughts or feelings. Truly, it was fascinating to see them together.

  But I saw glimpses of his mother in him as well, especially the goofy jokes and dry wit. As well, Katherine was a toucher: she showed a good deal of her affection through light caresses, squeezing of shoulders, brief embraces. She’d cupped my cheek, smiling into my eyes several times while we’d been making dinner, and I’d noted the way she was always looking for excuses to touch her husband, scratch his back, smooth her hand down his arm.

  She did these things in a way that reminded me of her son, and it warmed my heart. I would have to thank her later for passing this personality trait to Quinn, as it was definitely one of my favorites.

  “What’s going on?” Quinn’s gaze was still on our hands.

  “We were just talking about whether or not investigator bias is present in memory trials involving crossword puzzles,” I said, which was mostly true.

  Quinn’s eyes narrowed as they moved back to mine, assessing the truth of my statement.

  I was struck with a sudden thought.

  “Uh—Quinn, could you join me in the bathroom for a minute?”

  He blinked at me once. “In the bathroom?”

  “Yes. In the bathroom.”

  I noted his parents exchanged a look before his mother said, “If you two need to talk, we can….”

  “No, no. I prefer the bathroom. I do my best thinking in there.” I stood from the table, gave Katherine a nod of my head, and grabbed Quinn’s hand. “We’ll be right back.”

  I led him blindly out of the dining room in no direction in particular—just out. He quickly took over and steered us through a hallway lined with family photographs to a small half bath under the staircase.

  Once we were inside with the door closed but before the light could be switched on, I pressed him against the wall and kissed him. He liked this, because he immediately turned me so that my back was against the wall. At first, everything—every touch, grope, bite, lick—felt frantic, urgent, necessary.

  Then, after maybe a full minute, his weight shifted against me and the movements of his mouth slowed, savored. He used his hands to tilt my head this way and that, angling me how he liked, and kissed me with an unhurried meticulousness until I was well and truly dizzy.

  At length, he dipped his chin so that our foreheads connected and we inhaled each other.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “You’re welcome,” He said.

  His response, so serious, made me smile. We were still surrounded by darkness, which made our softly spoken words sound louder and more intimate.

  “Quinn…I want you to be happy,” I said, and my hands moved from where they gripped his arms to his waist.

  “I am.”

  “And I want to marry you as soon as possible.”

  He nodded, moving his face to nip my jaw, nuzzle my neck. “Good.”

  I gathered a deep breath of courage and—though it was nearly pitch black—I closed my eyes in preparation for the words I would speak next.

  “And, I think that as soon as possible is still June 14, and here is why: I think we should have the wedding here, in Boston.” I felt him stiffen at this news, so I tried to speak faster. “I think we should let your mother plan it, or as much of it as she wants to plan. I think we should have a large family wedding. I think I should wear a white dress, and underneath I should wear the bridal lingerie you picked out in London. Because I think it would mean a lot to your parents—not the bridal lingerie, the family wedding—and we don’t really care about the details, and if it’s within your power to give another person great joy at little or no expense to yourself—or even at great expense—then you should, especially when you love that person. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I think I might be a little in love with your mother….”

  “Okay,” he whispered against my ear, one of his hands caressing from my shoulder to my waist, then up to my breast.

  I opened my eyes in the da
rkness. I could just barely discern the outlines of his form towering above me.

  “…Okay?”

  “Yes.”

  My face was commandeered by a huge smile. Quinn moved against me in such a way that ignited sparks along my spine and made my lower stomach twist. My body instinctively reached out to his, to him.

  “Thank you.” This time my words were a bit breathless.

  “No, Kitten.” He lifted his head, brushed his lips against mine twice, then touched his nose to mine. “Thank you.”

  CHAPTER 17

  *Quinn*

  All hell broke loose on Wednesday.

  After a long day of dealing with idiot assholes, all I wanted to do was make love to my girl. Then I wanted to listen to her voice as she described the best way to extract essential oils from peppermint leaves, or whatever the hell topic she decided was most interesting at that particular moment.

  Instead, I came back to our suite at the hotel and found Dan, his asshat brother Seamus, Janie, and my mother sitting in the living room having tea.

  Fucking hell.

  We had seen my parents every day since dinner on Saturday.

  We went to church with them Sunday morning then out to eat. My father and I talked about a fishing trip over the summer. Shocking both of us, I asked for his advice on two new properties, corporate client accounts that my company would be managing at the end of the summer. After the discussion, I decided to ask him later if he was interested in consulting.

  Janie spent the rest of Sunday talking about wedding plans with my mother, conferencing in her friend Marie from Chicago.

  The next days in Boston were filled with corporate client meetings. At night, we went back to my parents’ house for dinner. By Tuesday, being around them was finally easier, but I was ready to climb the walls. I think it helped that they didn’t try to apologize again. But every time we were together, I wanted to tell them I was sorry.

  I didn’t, because the idea of apologizing felt inadequate. I wasn’t sure that I was ready to be forgiven. So I kept quiet and swallowed my guilt.

  This morning, which was also the last morning of our last full day in Boston, Janie and I split after breakfast. I needed to tie up loose ends with former private clients. She said she needed to run some wedding errands with my mom, whatever that meant.

  I hadn’t expected those errands to include tea with local thugs.

  Seamus—Dan’s money-laundering no-good asshole of a brother and Jem’s ex-boyfriend, the same ex-boyfriend who’d tried to kidnap Janie several months ago—was on my list of top three sonsabitches I’d like to disappear.

  Right now though, the first person I was going to murder was Dan. After that, Seamus. After that…maybe Janie. Probably not.

  I did a quick scan of the room, surprised to find two of my local lieutenants, Carl and Stan, standing at either end of the perimeter. Their eyes met mine. One look told me they were less than pleased with the current situation.

  Once I was certain that the room was secure, I shut the door with a little more force than necessary and waited for the occupants to notice me. They did, immediately and all at the same time, glancing up from their conversation in unison.

  The room fell silent.

  I glared at Dan. He glared back. I saw he was pissed, and I knew he was the one who had called Carl and Stan. Dan was the only one not drinking tea. He was on the edge of his seat looking tense and uncomfortable between Seamus and the ladies.

  I shifted my glare to Seamus. He gave me a shit-eating grin. I decided that he was now number one on my list of people I’d like to make disappear.

  “What are you doing here?” Instead of pistol-whipping him, I set my briefcase by the door, began pulling off my leather gloves.

  “I heard you were in town, thought I’d stop by for a friendly chat.” His greasy smile widened, and he looked at Janie. The bastard winked at her.

  Seamus shouldn’t breathe the same air as my mother or Janie, much less share teatime.

  I tossed my gloves and overcoat to a nearby chair, my eyes never leaving Seamus. “What are you doing here?” I said it slower this time.

  The smile dropped from his face as his eyes flickered to mine. He looked nervous.

  My mother set her tea on the table and stood. “I invited him in.”

  Before I looked at my mother, I let Seamus feel the threat behind my stare.

  She seemed weary. “I had two choices, Quinn. Invite him in or turn him away. One way or the other, he wanted to talk to you. But more than that, he wants to make a statement.”

  “I don’t know what she’s….” Seamus said, but my mother cut him off.

  “You forget, Seamus, I changed your diapers. Don’t try to bullshit me.” She then turned back to me. “And you also forget that I know Seamus. He and Dan used to come over after school when they were kids. Seamus got an A in my trigonometry class.”

  “Right before he dropped out,” Dan piped up. His tone told me he was close to losing his shit.

  “Listen…” Seamus glared at his brother, then his eyes flickered to my mother. He had the nerve to appear ashamed. “I’m sorry if I interrupted anything.”

  “You did,” she said. “And I know you’re not sorry. You knew we were here—Janie and me—and that Quinn was not.” I studied my mother. She seemed to be searching Seamus’s face for something, as if he were lacking some much-needed character trait, and her sigh was defeated when she looked at me again. “Janie and I are leaving. We have an appointment with a dressmaker.”

  “Mrs. Sullivan, I am sorry. Please don’t leave on my account.” Seamus tried again, his voice surprisingly sincere.

  “If you want to tell someone you’re sorry, Seamus, I have your mother’s phone number. Maybe you’d like to give her a call.”

  He dropped the act. His expression flattened, his mouth formed a grim line, and he stood silent under my mother’s disappointment.

  She allowed just five seconds for her point to sink in. Then she reached for her purse. Janie stood and my eyes immediately locked on her.

  It felt like getting punched in the stomach, she was so beautiful. She looked curious and composed, but not frightened, even though she’d been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the whole thing.

  She was also wearing some kind of light pink wrap dress, the kind that reminds me of a bathrobe, except the ties are connected. I knew, because I had previous experience with one of her other wrap dresses; all I had to do was pull the tie and the dress fell open.

  I fucking hated Seamus.

  I gritted my teeth and exhaled, fought the urge to order everyone out so that Janie and I could be alone. The only reason I didn’t was because my mother was right. Seamus wanted to make a statement. He was nothing but an irritating blip on my radar. If he didn’t put on his show now, it would be later.

  My mother passed by me first, gave me a small smile, and squeezed my arm. Then she surprised the hell out of me with a gentle peck on the cheek.

  I felt twelve years old again. It made me feel forgiven.

  Carl followed my mother. I was still shaking off my disorientation when he gave me a curt nod; I knew he would take care of them.

  Janie trailed behind, hesitant, waiting for a cue on how to act. She was so fucking smart it killed me. I grabbed her hand as she passed, settled for an irritatingly chaste kiss on her cheek. When she leaned close, I noticed that she smelled different, like perfume or a new soap, and I wanted to know why.

  Stan was last and muttered as he passed, “We’ll take them home.”

  My eyes slid back to Seamus before I said, “You do that.”

  I heard the door shut.

  Then I walked to the bar and poured myself a whiskey, turning my back to the room. I was in no hurry now, and since I was in a bad mood, I was happy to share it with someone I disliked.

  I downed the first glass with one quick swig then poured two more generous fingers.

  “No thanks, I don’t want anything,” Seamus called
.

  “I didn’t ask and I’m not offering.” I turned and glanced out the window of the presidential suite to the skyline of Boston beyond.

  “That’s not very nice.” Seamus whined, sitting down again. “After I did that solid for your girl.”

  My eyes slid to the side and I glared at him.

  “He gave you all the money Jem stole.” Dan said this to his brother, shaking his head. “You didn’t do him a favor.”

  “I let her go, didn’t I?”

  “And Quinn could have busted open your operation with one phone call. You’d be rotting in prison right now, right?”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked the question slower this time, pausing menacingly between words.

  Seamus shifted in his seat, increasingly uncomfortable. “Didn’t know you were going to be so rude.”

  “Stop fucking around, asshole. Just spit it out.” Dan huffed, leaned back in the large leather club chair, and shook his head. He looked embarrassed.

  Seamus was many things, but he was not stupid. He was resourceful, clever, and if he worked half as hard at a real job in a legit industry as he did laundering money, he’d be very successful. But he didn’t. He was the ruler of a modest empire, one that I allowed to exist.

  Or, rather, one that I had allowed to exist. Because if I knew who needed money laundered on the East Coast, then I had valuable information.

  But I didn’t deal in information anymore, or at least I was trying to get out of it. This meant Seamus’s current position as the ruler of his realm was precarious at best.

  And, right now, finding him in my suite, winking at Janie, and keeping me from learning more about essential oil extraction methods, I was pretty sure Seamus’s reign was coming to an end.

  “I heard a rumor about you,” Seamus said, making a desperate show of his aggression.

  I just looked at him, because he hadn’t yet given me any reason to speak.

  Seconds ticked by and he grew more agitated.

  Finally, he blurted, “You’re one cold bastard, Quinn. I thought we were friends.”