The Sweet Under His Skin (61 page)

Arielle's mouth opened, she couldn't form an argument, so she snapped it shut again.

"This new place is gorgeous," Thelma went on. "Green, rolling foothills. The Rocky Mountains in the distance. And honey, snow at Christmas." Thelma sighed. "I really miss snow at this time of year."

Arielle cast a look to Quentin, but he appeared more worried about her. So she went back to Thelma. "But, this is…this is the last childhood home I have Thelma!"

Thelma's mouth got tight. "Arielle, honey. We can't go back. You're not a child anymore, and you're making your own home for Calvin now. That's going to be home. And you can come see me whenever you like."

Arielle didn't miss the Talking To Children tone that Thelma gave her, and she knew she was behaving like a child. Hell, even Calvin looked kind of intrigued at the mention of snow. "How far away is it?" she couldn't help it, she sounded pathetic.

Thelma tilted her head with a smile. "It's just under four hours' drive, honey."

"Four hours?" she squealed. Now Quentin's hand was on her back, making circles, but she wasn't that consolable.

"I've always wanted to live there," Thelma said, picking up her fork again. "And now I'll get to."

Arielle felt a rush of selfish brat flow through her and she looked back to her plate, too. Part of her was scared to be losing Thelma; she seemed so far away as it was. But Thelma seemed excited at the thought of something new.

"Well, that's good then," she mumbled, obviously not entirely meaning it.

"Sounds like a nice place Aunt Thelma," Quentin offered, and Thelma smiled.

"And you're welcome to visit as well Quentin," Thelma offered.

"Will you keep the chickens?" Calvin asked.

"I think so. I like having farm fresh eggs."

"The goats?"

Thelma shrugged. "Not sure about the goats. They're a lot of work and you only get so much from them."

As Calvin further investigated how much of Thelma's menagerie was making the move to Colorado Quentin leaned in a kissed Arielle's temple in a sweet, soothing way. She had to grin at him and give his knee a squeeze under the table. He was worried about how upset she was.

Once Christmas Eve dinner was gone and cleared away, Arielle and Quentin offered to do the dishes, even though he was cranky with her being up and moving around. Quentin wanted her resting but she was too worked up.

"I don't think you understand," she said softly. "This is the last of the family Calvin and I have. I feel like the…foundation of my life is being eroded away under my feet."

Quentin sighed and pulled her into a hug. "Thelma's right. You're the adult now, not the kid. You're home for Calvin, so let's focus on that, babe. You get to make his home. That's pretty cool."

Her hands curled up the fabric of his shirt. "Yeah, I know. But…I feel like whining."

"You're very whiny when you're not feeling well," he noted. "Good thing you're cute or I'd get annoyed listening to it." She knew he was half-kidding so she poked him in the ribs. "Let's get the dishes cleared up. I think you need a few more tokes to mellow you out," he suggested.

She shook her head and grabbed the dish towel off the handle of the stove. "Controlled substances won't make me like this any more than I do right now. I have every right to be whiny."

"All right then," he muttered, and before she knew it he had her spun around, arm around her waist, hand at the back of her neck and his mouth pressed to hers. She didn't even have time to be startled, it felt too good.

They'd only fooled around a bit since her last round of treatments stopped. And there was no monkey business while she was undergoing chemo, that was for sure. Quentin was terrified of pushing her too fast too soon, and as much as it might have embarrassed her she missed…it. Sex. With Quentin. So when he kissed her like this her body's first reaction was to still, grow warm, and let herself melt. Which she did.

When he parted his lips from hers he was smiling. "There, that's better," he mumbled, kissing the end of her nose. "You done whining?"

Arielle inhaled sharply and found she had no interest in being pissed off. "Fine, I'm done whining," she admitted without much bite to it.

"You should be happy for your aunt, doing what she's always wanted," he scolded her, turning off the water rushing from the tap. "Not a lot of people have the guts to do that. Or the opportunity. And honestly, Arielle…" he took a deep breath, still not looking at her. "…I like that she's making a safe place, somewhat far away, but still, a safe place. If you and Calvin ever need to get away, that's…that's pretty damn far.Somewhere the club doesn’t even know where to find you…"

Arielle's body stilled, not only at his tone but at what he was saying. "Did something happen? With Reuben? Are…are we in trouble?"

He shook his head, still not looking at her. "No, you're not in trouble. But when shit gets dangerous in my life I hate having you close to it."

Those words should have worried and terrified her, but she felt a warm rush at that too. Her tummy went soft and she had to smile.

She stepped into his back, wrapping her arms around his tight middle. "I like that you care about us." He patted her hand, then turned around to hug her again. They'd never get the dishes done at this rate.

Quentin cupped her face with both hands. "I don't just like you, babe," he breathed.

Arielle felt her heart speed up. Something slid through his expression, something warm and content and completely foreign. A sweetness she hadn't seen before. "Quentin?"

His brow furrowed a bit. "I'm saying that…I…" he licked his lips and looked away. "Fuck," he whispered.

Arielle pressed a kiss to his cheek which brought his eyes to hers again. "Don't say it then," she advised softly. "I know, but…don't say it yet."

There was a long pause and his hands tightened on her face, then his forehead touched hers. No one said anything, Arielle let the warmth of his body absorb into hers, her heart swelling with the realization that he was falling in love with her.

Because she was already there, for certain.

"Let's wash the dishes," she suggested softly with a smile. "Because you're going to make me cry."

With that he was kissing her again, and knowing now how big a part of him she was becoming the kiss was entirely different. Hot, certainly.

But
sweet
.

So sweet it made her heart almost ache. So sweet she couldn't not say it herself. "I'm falling in love with you, Quentin," she whispered against his lips. "I just want you to know that."

His grip tightened, and he made her stop talking with his tongue. There were a few tears that she let spill, but the lightness in her chest kept her from bursting right into tears.

"Sorry," Thelma called, walking right into the kitchen and heading for the stove. "I'm feeling a chill and I need a cup of tea. You two want some?"

Arielle had dropped her face into Quentin's chest at the interruption, and she could tell that he was laughing by how he shook. "Sure," she croaked, wiping at her eyes before stepping away from him. "Thank you, Thelma."

Thelma's face was strange. She looked content, smiling as she was. But there was a certain sadness in her eyes, and Arielle didn't know where it came from or what it was. She had likely heard every word, but she just turned back to the stove and grabbed the kettle. "You two ever get those dishes done we can watch a movie. So get on it."

Quentin pulled on a T-shirt with his jeans, rubbing a hand through his hair and covering a yawn. This old farm house might be called cosy by some, but when the wind blew the thing creaked and groaned like an old man trying to get up off a sofa. He hadn't slept a wink the night before, and that wasn't just because of the extracurricular activities he talked Arielle into once everyone was tucked in their beds. The house was loud. Every sound had him waking up and reaching for his Beretta, tucked between the mattresses.

It was absolutely, one hundred percent not because of the conversation he'd had with his girl in the kitchen while doing dishes. Because that hadn't freaked him out at all. And he'd swear to that.

He hit the foot of the stairs, coming into the quirky but cosy living room. The tree was in the rounded front bay window, lit up, presents at it base like it had dropped its drawers and Christmas fell out all over. Before he could really take in all this normal heart-warming, Rockwell moment. something hit his gut and arms went around his waist. "Merry Christmas, Q!"

He chuckled, patting Calvin between the shoulders. "Merry Christmas, Charlie."

"Merry Christmas," another voice said, and before Calvin could move away Aunt Thelma was pulling him down slightly by the shoulder and kissing his cheek.

He smiled at her, knowing it might have shaken a bit. "Merry Christmas, Thelma."

She patted his cheek and smiled, then moved away. "Take a seat. Do you want coffee?"

"Sure," he said, sitting on the sagging sofa she indicated. Calvin was sitting on an ottoman, eyeing up the bounty under the tree and grinning. Quentin laughed. "Looks like Santa spoiled you."

Calvin nodded, and Quentin looked up as Arielle padded into the room with two steaming mugs, looking sleepy and hot all at the same time. She had full flannel pyjamas on, a matching scarf around her head, and a sweet smile that was just for him as she handed a mug over and curled a leg under herself to sit next to him. He immediately wound an arm around her shoulders, kissing her cheek.

"Merry Christmas, baby girl," he muttered, and she eased her weight into his side.

"Merry Christmas, Quentin," she returned, sighing as they got cuddly.

Another planet, completely, where the air was scented with apples and cinnamon, holiday music was playing all scratchy and old-school from the record player, and he was…at ease. Not on guard, looking for threats, coiled as though ready to strike if danger reared its ugly head. The locals decided he was welcome even if he was an alien life form.

"Calvin," Thelma called as she entered the living room and plopped into the armchair in the corner. "Get presents for Quentin and Arielle to open."

Calvin grinned and scooted around the tree, clearly having a game plan for the distribution. He came back with two wrapped gifts, dropping one into Quentin's lap and the other on Arielle's. He had selected the gifts that were from him, and Quentin had to smile. He couldn't wait to see Arielle's reaction to those earrings.

He picked the paper off of what felt like a paperback, and as the front cover of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance was revealed he was stunned silent. No one had ever given him a book before, and he set his coffee down, holding an arm out. "Come here, Chuckles," he instructed. Calvin did and Quentin gave him a tight hug. "Thanks, buddy," he mumbled, ignoring the prickle in his nose. "Go get your present from me."

Calvin found it right away. It was heavy, and he grunted as he plopped it down in front of him and began opening it.

Arielle gasped next to him, and he caught her face as she looked at the open jewelrybox in her hand. Her lip shook as she looked up. "Calvin, how in the world did you—"

"They're your birthstone," Quentin cut her off with, bringing her startled expression back to him. "Calvin even picked them out himself."

She smiled. "Calvin, sweetie. Thanks so much."

"No problem," Calvin returned, cool-as-shit as he got the last of the paper off his gift. It was a hardcover version of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance with a package of colored highlighters. That kid studied that book like it was a textbook or something. May as well make it professional grade. "Thanks, Quentin!" he shouted, eyes big as he looked up. "This is a really nice version."

"Nothing but the best for you, buddy."

"Calvin," Arielle said, "give Thelma one of her gifts."

It was the one from Calvin, of course. He was doing the handing out so he was getting the first crack at everyone loving their presents. Quentin had helped Calvin shop, even though the kid knew on his own what he'd wanted to get for Thelma.

Aunt Thelma made a show of saying how nice the bathrobe was, saying she'd needed a new one. Calvin knew this, heard her say it all summer and remembered it. The matching slippers were an after-thought but Thelma loved those, too.

Next Calvin opened Thelma's gift to him, and it was pyjamas with socks. Standard family gift. Arielle got Thelma a cook book, as well as a gift bag full of jars of some shit called pesto, antipasto, pickled things he'd never thought of that way like asparagus and onions, all kind of gourmet foods he couldn't pronounce. Thelma loved all of it.

Thelma gave Quentin a road hazard kit. It had jumper cables, road flares, reflective collapsible cones, all in a zippered bag that would likely fit in his storage bin. He grinned, thanking her honestly. There was another bag from her too; a nice twenty-six of bourbon he'd heard of but never seen, brewed in California. He was impressed and offered to spike the coffee if anyone was interested. Thelma said she would be on her second cup.

Calvin opened up more books and video games, and when he came to the other gift Quentin had found as an after-thought Quentin leaned closer to Arielle. "Don't be mad," he whispered as Calvin tore the paper off.

It was a bike calendar. All vintage-model Harleys, original advertising re-colored from the year the prints were made. Of course, the bikes all had pin-up girls posing with them.

Calvin's face went pink, but he was grinning. "Thanks, Q!"

"What the hell is that?" Arielle gasped, easing away to glare at him. "He's nine!"

"He likes the bikes. And none of the girls are nude, Arielle."

She shook her head. "Nine-years-old, Quentin. Nine."

"Aunt Arielle! Look! This is Q's bike! April!" Calvin was pointing to the back where the printer had included a preview of the viewing material. "It's painted black here, too, Q!"

"See? He barely sees the women."

Arielle's glare was adorable. But he was still in trouble. "Hey, Charlie, I think there's a gift there for Aunt Arielle from me," he called out, easing against the arm of the sofa as Arielle continued to look pissed.