Seduced in September (Spring River Valley Book 9) (10 page)

* * * *

Quinn had almost reached the main elevator when a pair of feminine hands grabbed his arm and pulled him into a staff lounge. Lily eyed him expectantly, hands on her hips as though she was about to ream him out for something.

Despite her inexplicable ire, he couldn’t help but grin. The fire in her eyes had his entire body heating up.

“What are you doing here?” Her question caught him off guard, but he figured his answer would do the same for her. Before he could form the words, though, she continued. “You didn’t have to bring me flowers.”

He lowered the small bouquet he’d picked up on the way to the hospital. “Ah…these aren’t for you.”

She cocked a hip. “Really?”

“They’re for a patient.”

Quinn enjoyed every second of watching her expression morph from misplaced indignation to confusion to sweet embarrassment. Her cheeks reddened, and she groped for a response.

“Oh. I…uh…you’re visiting someone.”

“Yeah.” He could have let her twist for a bit, in fact he wanted to just because she looked adorable trying to verbally backpedal, but in the end he didn’t have the heart to make her squirm. “They’re actually for your aunt. I wanted to thank her for buying us dinner, even if we didn’t get to actually have it yet.”

Lily’s eyes widened and she put her hand on his arm again. “No…no, no. Please don’t bring up dinner around my aunt.”

“Why not?”

“Um…because she’s not really up for a lot of conversation.”

“I thought she was doing pretty well. I checked in at the front desk, and no one told me she couldn’t have vis—”

“Okay, that’s not true. She’s fine, considering the broken hip, she’s actually doing really well, but…I told her we
had
dinner.”

“Well…let me rephrase the question, then. Why?”

She sighed deeply, her lithe body seeming to deflate. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to get into a discussion with her about you. She’s been asking…okay, the proper word is nagging me about you for some reason, and rather than go into the thousand reasons why we shouldn’t go on a date, I just told her we met, we ate, it was nice, it’s over, and that’s it.”

Quinn let the flowers hang loosely from his hand and studied Lily for the first time with a critical eye. She looked agitated, almost worried, and definitely uncomfortable with her confession. “I thought the reason we didn’t have dinner was because I was out on a call. Could you list maybe the first fifty or sixty of the nine hundred ninety-nine
other
reasons we suddenly shouldn’t go out?”

“Well, let’s see. There’s this, right now.” She waved a hand between them. “This is exactly why I don’t want to date people I work with, because we’re having an argument in the staff lounge, and anyone could hear it.”

“First of all,
you
pulled
me
in here. I’m technically not staff, so we should be having this argument in the hall where anyone could definitely hear it, and that’s where you’d be having an argument with anyone you didn’t work with…so how about reason number two?”

She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back. “Okay, how about we were both drunk and had no idea what we were doing.”

“From what I recall, we didn’t need any instructions. Everything sort of worked instinctively.” As though they were meant for each other. That, he recalled very clearly.

She broke eye contact, her cheeks flaming. “Reason three, the person you were with the other night was not the usual me. That was a me who should have been kept bottled up where she belongs to stop her from doing things she shouldn’t be doing.”

“Maybe that’s the me you should let out more often. Or…the you you should let out more often. She’s sweet and hot and sexy and not completely anal and uptight like the one you seem to let out the rest of the time.”

“And that’s reason four.
This
is the real me, the one you think is
anal
and uptight. You wouldn’t last a week with this one because…”

“Because why?”

“Because…when was the last time you lasted a week with anyone?”

The question silenced his counter argument. The implication stung because it hit at a raw spot that he usually managed to keep covered. Truth was he’d never dated anyone longer than a few weeks, months at the most. On the surface he’d never let it bother him, since in at least half the cases, he’d been the one to break it off. The score was about even, and he’d always chalked it up to his desire to keep his life free of complications. For a long time Tanner had been the same way, enjoying the freedom of being a confirmed bachelor. Evie had come along and accused him of much the same thing, and he’d proven to her that his reputation was nothing like his true self. Quinn had envied his partner that conviction that deep down he wasn’t a player. Unfortunately he wasn’t sure the same thing applied to himself.

Everything he’d said to Lily was true—what he could remember and what she’d told him about. He’d never wanted a commitment or an obligation to someone because he wasn’t sure he could deliver.

He knew that about himself, but how did she?

He backed up a step. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. We both agreed to no strings attached, and I guess the reasons don’t matter. You don’t want to get hurt, and I don’t want to be the one to hurt you, so…here.” He handed her the bouquet. “Give these to your aunt for me. Tell her I hope she feels better soon, and I’ll… see you around.”

Her hands shook a little when she took the flowers from him. “I’m sorry, Quinn, it’s just that—”

“I understand. You don’t trust me to be the kind of guy you deserve. I hope someday you can trust yourself enough to take a chance on someone.”

He left her in the lounge and headed for his car, deciding a shot of spicy imported liquor might be just the thing to chase away the sudden autumn chill.

“How many of these have you had?” Tanner asked, palming the empty shot glass from the bar in front of Quinn.

“Just the one. I didn’t call you to pick me up, I called to pick your brain.”

Tanner slid onto the stool next to Quinn and signaled Colette’s bartender to bring him a beer. “Does that mean you’re officially acknowledging that I have a brain?”

Quinn eyed Tanner sidelong. “It depends on what I get out of you.”

“That depends on how many rounds you’re buying.”

The bartender returned with Tanner’s beer and moved to refill Quinn’s shot, but he turned the small glass upside down. He’d hoped the cinnamon burn of the liqueur would put him in the same mood it had the other night, but
today what had been a pleasant warmth in the middle of his chest felt more like indigestion. He kept hearing Lily’s question over and over in his mind, and it soured the taste of the drink.
When was the last time you lasted a week with anyone?

“How many rounds will it take for you to tell me what I have to do to convince Lily I’m not going to break her heart?”

Tanner sipped his beer. “How can you be so sure you’re not?”

“So that’s the simple answer, then? Because I can’t guarantee the relationship will work out, I shouldn’t even bother?”

“Maybe in this case, yes. She said she didn’t want a commitment, right?”

Quinn shrugged. “She says we both said that.”

“And she obviously does want something serious, or it wouldn’t matter to her. I get the feeling that’s all she’s ever wanted because who else makes all those rules like she has? She won’t date practically anyone from the valley. How many people here aren’t cops, firemen, or EMTs or don’t work for the hospital? Those are the major things this town has. She works at the hospital, so who else is she going to meet but all the wrong guys? Or the guys she’s already decided are wrong. You’re one of them. What can you do?”

“All right, so you agree, and she agrees—I don’t have a shot.” Quinn eyed his empty glass. “Why can’t I get her out of my mind? She’s right, I have a crappy track record. The longest relationship I’ve ever had in my life, sadly, is with you. Do I have to find some girl and date her for three years in order to convince Lily I’m trustworthy?”

“Then you can break up with that girl and date Lily? Are you sure you’ve only had one drink?”

“Yeah, but I think I need a few more to figure this all out.”

“I don’t think you should try.”

“That’s not helpful.”

“Do you want good advice or bad advice?”

Quinn thought about it. If good advice consisted of Tanner telling him to give up on Lily, he definitely didn’t want that. “Let’s go with bad right now.”

“Why are you so determined to convince Lily to go out with you?”

“I don’t know. I…”

“You barely even remember being with her.”

“That’s not true. I remember being with her. I don’t necessarily recall how we got to that point, but I remember all the important things. I had an incredible night. I want to get to know the woman I shared that with.”

“I don’t know. It seems to me you missed a lot of the important stuff. Obviously whatever went on between the two of you before you got back to your place is what convinced her not to take a chance on you so—”

“That’s it.”

“What’s it?”

“That’s what I have to do. I just have to redo the part that I missed and not make the same mistakes.”

Tanner squinted at him. “How about I buy you a cup of coffee?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m completely lucid, and everything makes sense now.” He clapped Tanner on the back. “Thanks, I knew you’d come through.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t know for what.”

“For helping me figure out that I have to rewrite history.”

“Well, you know, I’m a fan of the simple solutions.”

Quinn took out his phone and texted Lily. She’d chosen him once
, and maybe she knew more about what was right for her than she let herself believe. Now he just had to convince her that in spite of her rules, she had to trust herself.

* * * *

Changing history at Colette’s at 7. Meet me?

The cryptic text from Quinn came at the end of Lily’s double shift.

She hadn’t expected to hear from him again after he’d walked out of the lounge that afternoon.

The last thing Lily had intended was to hurt Quinn. The look in his eyes when he’d handed her the flowers had told her much more than any parting words he could have said. Regardless of the silly decrees they’d made the other night, there was a part of him that wanted something serious. Maybe he hadn’t even realized that part existed, but the wound she’d inflicted with her careless words had exposed it.

She’d spent the rest of the day trying to think of some way to apologize and to explain why she didn’t trust herself enough to take chances. But how could she explain to him when she didn’t understand it herself?

The worst part was, she would have gone out with him. Hell, she would have slept with him again, even without the promise of commitment, because she wanted him. He made her palms sweat and her heart race, and the thought that she’d lashed out and deliberately tried to push him away made something inside her ache.

She couldn’t imagine what his perplexing message meant, but it didn’t matter. At least she’d have a chance to apologize. She’d just have to try not to stop torturing herself with unrequited fantasies.

Twice on the way to Colette’s she almost turned back, but something kept urging her forward. Curiosity got her all the way to the parking lot of the bar. Guilt at how she’d treated him took her the rest of the way inside.

The Friday night crowd had already begun to assemble, and like the parking lot, most of the small pub tables were full when she arrived. She had to search for Quinn at the bar and found him at the far end, facing the small corner stage where Claudia and her band would be playing later.

A smile lit his face when he saw her. If there was any trace left of the hurt she’d inflicted, it didn’t show now, and for that she was grateful.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

“I’ve always been a history buff. I couldn’t resist finding out what you plan on changing.”

“Our history.” He handed her a glass of sparkling amber liquid. She accepted, offering a skeptical grin.

“I’m not sure we’ll change very much if we start drinking this early.”

“It’s ginger ale. That’s change number one. This time we’re not drunk, not even tipsy.” He pointed to one of the few empty tables left. “Next change, we sit down and talk before it gets too loud in here to hear each other.”

Lily followed him to the table and took a seat. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for this afternoon. I was out of line. It was sweet of you to think of Aunt Maddie, and I shouldn’t have come down on you for showing up at the hospital. It wasn’t even mad at you. I was—”

“Right,” he finished for her. “You don’t have to apologize. You were right. You know me a lot better than I thought, and you have every right to be…cautious.”