“We can’t wait to do that!” her mom said. “In the meantime, you keep Quinn in line, you hear me?”
Tilly laughed in genuine delight while Quinn groaned again. “Oh, I will absolutely keep her in line,” Tilly promised.
Looking thrilled at having a coconspirator, her mom smiled. “Good. Now what can you tell me about this Mick—”
“Mom, we’ve got to go. Love you,” Quinn said and disconnected.
“You hung up on your mom. That’s bad karma.” Tilly, looking smug, went to the fridge. “They’re very nice.”
“Uh-huh. Don’t snack, let’s eat a real meal.”
“So you can tell your mom you’re taking good care of me?”
“I am taking good care of you.”
They were arguing over dinner choices when someone knocked on the front door.
The cat, who’d been sitting near Quinn’s feet as was her habit, bolted. Tink didn’t like visitors.
Quinn opened the door to Coop and Mick. Mick held a casserole dish that smelled amazing and she fell a little bit in love.
“Wuff,” Coop said and nudged his big head into Quinn’s hand. She dropped to her knees and gave him a proper hug, for which she was rewarded with a face lick from chin to forehead. She laughed and stood up.
Mick smiled. “He took my move.” But he leaned in and kissed her too.
“If it helps,” she whispered against his mouth. “I like your move better.”
“Good to know. My mom cooked something for you and Tilly.”
“It smells like heaven,” she said.
“Meat loaf, potatoes, and green beans.”
“Comfort food,” Quinn said with a smile.
“Or a heart attack in a pan,” Mick said. “Whichever works for you.”
The three of them sat and ate together—with Coop beneath the table lying in wait for scraps—talking, and even laughing. Until Tilly dropped a bomb.
“Are you two going to sleep together tonight?” she asked.
Quinn choked on a green bean.
Mick patted her on the back and handed her over a glass of water. When she finally collected herself, Quinn looked at Tilly. “Of course not.”
“Because you two never sleep together, right?” Tilly rolled her eyes. “I’m fifteen, you know. Not five.” She stood up and gathered the plates. “I’m just asking if you could not make a lot of noise so I don’t have to keep the TV up loud.”
Quinn was horrified. “Is that what you have to do at Chuck’s?”
“Not every night,” she said. “Sometimes he’s too tired and Kendall sleeps in her own bedroom.”
Good God.
Quinn tried to kick Mick out as soon as possible after that, but the man—as she’d already learned in bed—couldn’t be rushed. First they did dishes. Then they had to go for ice cream because apparently Tilly couldn’t go on without ice cream. Then they walked Coop around the block to do his business, which since he was like his master and couldn’t be rushed, took a while.
When they came back, Tilly plopped herself down on the center of the sofa and proceeded to flip through the channels on the TV with the same intensity and concentration that a brain surgeon might show in the operating room. Certainly more intensity and concentration than she showed for her homework.
Or cleaning her room.
Or washing dishes . . .
Mick sat down next to her. Quinn tried to catch his gaze but he ignored her. She finally gave up and joined them, staring over Tilly’s head at Mick. He wasn’t afraid of bugs, women who saw ghosts, fistfights with his best friend, or going up against the city manager. And now he wasn’t afraid of teenage girls either. Who was he, Superman?
Tilly had pulled up Hulu and was staring in horror at the history. “Say Yes to the Dress?” She jabbed a finger at the screen and then looked at Quinn.
“Are you Hulu judging?” Quinn asked.
“Oh my God, yes!”
Quinn squirmed and very purposely didn’t look at Mick. “When I clean, I watch wedding shows. So what?”
“So you might want to seek help for that,” Tilly said. “There’s nothing new to watch.”
“We could watch a movie,” Mick said. “I brought a couple.” He tossed a few on the coffee table.
Tilly snorted. “DVDs,” she mused disdainfully.
“Got popcorn?” Mick asked, unruffled by the teen ’tude.
Coop’s ears perked up at the word popcorn.
“Yeah,” Tilly said, her ears perking up too. “We’ve got popcorn.”
And then to Quinn’s shock—they’d all eaten dinner, even had seconds, and then ice cream—Mick and Tilly inhaled popcorn while watching one of the DVDs—that they agreed on without argument.
When a kissing scene came on at the very end of the movie, Mick playfully reached out and covered Tilly’s “tender” eyes.
“Fine by me,” Tilly said. “Old people kissing is gross.”
Mick got up and pulled Quinn to her feet and then kissed her right in front of Tilly.
“Ohmigod,” Tilly moaned, covering her own eyes now. “Gross.”
“Deal with it,” he said. He gave Quinn one more smooch and then headed to the door. “’Night, ladies.”
Quinn followed him, shutting the door behind her. “What was that?” she asked.
“Me saying good night?”
“No, it was you making it clear we’re a thing.”
He looked at her, his amusement fading. “Actually, given what we talked about, your concerns about Tilly, it was me trying to show her that good guys do exist—as well as good relationships.”
She stared at him, her belly pinched as an irrational fear gutted her. “But you and I aren’t—”
He arched a brow.
“I mean . . .” She trailed off, unsure of herself, in uncharted territory. “We started off just as fun. We both said that.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “And it was fun, a hell of a lot of fun. Still is. It’s also evolved into something more over the past month.” He let out a mirthless laugh. “Which you obviously noticed or you wouldn’t be freaking out right now over a perfectly great evening that didn’t end badly.”
“Are you suggesting I need drama in my life?”
“I’m suggesting you’re scared.”
Her heart was pounding against her ribs now. Because he was right. She was scared, scared he was going to want to define what they had, put a label on them, when she didn’t even know who she was. And the thought of coming up with one made her feel anxious enough for a stroke. Why were they doing this? Why couldn’t they just leave a good thing alone? “I’ve got to go in.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding his head like he wasn’t surprised, and she felt like a coward. He started to go and then paused and looked right into her heart and soul with those deep, melting chocolate eyes. “Being scared is one thing, and in a lot of cases, it’s smart. Probably in this case, it’s smart. But if you’re looking for an excuse to not have a relationship, it’s fine. Just own it.”
Her chest ached. “It’s just that my life, it’s . . . complicated.”
“And?” he asked, not impressed. “Because everyone’s is, Quinn. Mine included. But one thing I know, it’s too short to be with someone who doesn’t know if she wants me.”
“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted.
He looked at her for a long moment, disappointment etched into his face as he nodded. “Can’t fight that. You know how to get hold of me if you figure it out.”