14. Quinn
14
QUINN
I locked the door of the restaurant, turning to look at the space. As usual, the staff had everything ready for the morning. Tammy had worked an extra shift, and I had to admit, I loved it when she did. I never had to ask or explain. She knew exactly what to do and how I liked things.
My eyes caught the arrangement sitting beside the cash register. The bright colors and beautiful flowers had been commented on all day by customers and staff. Every chance I got, I stopped and admired them. They were as unexpected as the man who had gifted them to me and as beautiful as his soul.
Not that I would ever tell him that. He’d turn all shades of red, mutter something about men not being beautiful, and look embarrassed. He’d huff and puff and shake his head.
But he was beautiful—on the inside as well as out.
Never, even when we were young and, I thought, in love, had Preston ever bought me flowers. When Abby was born, I had looked around the room, seeing the other women being given gifts by their husbands or partners. Preston had walked in, stared down at the sweet face of our daughter, and muttered that he would have preferred a boy. Then he’d set down the bag he’d forgotten earlier, informed me he had an important meeting to go to, and left.
He did the same the day he brought me home, leaving me alone with a newborn baby, zero clues on what to do, and telling me he’d be late for dinner.
Given I’d had a difficult birth, I told him I wouldn’t be cooking. His response had said it all.
“Don’t think you can milk this baby thing forever.”
I knew then my marriage was over. But it had taken me years to get away.
I drifted toward the flowers, sitting in front of them, tracing the edge of the petals with my finger.
John Elliott.
He was the exact opposite of Preston. Outwardly grumpy, inside a marshmallow. Preston was charming—he said and did all the right things, but inside, he was rotting like an apple that fell from the tree.
John was kind and loving. Sexy in a rough, masculine way. Preston looked like he stepped off a runway, but when you glanced at his eyes, you knew he was empty inside.
I suppressed a shiver, remembering his cold gaze.
John was open and honest with his feelings—especially when he cared for you.
And in bed, he was giving, sexy, and loving. Rough and gentle at the same time. I felt safe with him. I couldn’t question his desire. It was evident in his words and on his face, never mind the way he showed me with his body. Simply thinking of how many times he’d brought me to orgasm last night made me blush. Preston had always been more concerned with his pleasure and not mine, and, more times than not, I had none. With John, that was not the case.
I wasn’t sure what made me kiss him the way I did in front of everybody. He had looked so unsure suddenly, as if bringing me flowers had displeased me, when it was the opposite. I was thrilled. Touched. And I had to kiss him to show him.
And I hadn’t liked the way Mary Jones was eyeing him from the corner. As if he was a prize hunk of beef.
Which he was.
But he was my prize hunk of beef, and I needed her, and everyone else, to know that.
Where the possessiveness had appeared from, I had no idea, but one thing I knew for sure—John hadn’t objected to it at all. He’d seemed surprised and delighted by my actions.
I looked at the mirror lining the back wall, studying my reflection. I looked different. Tired, yes, but relaxed. Happy. The frown lines I was used to seeing, the anxiety I carried all the time, were absent.
And I knew it was mostly thanks to the gruff, rough teddy bear of a man who gave me these flowers.
I slipped off the stool and headed to the kitchen. I knew exactly how to thank him.
JOHN
I walked into Quinn’s place, using the back door. It felt oddly right to stride into her house without knocking, instead simply calling for her.
“Quinn—I’m here!”
Fast little feet headed my way, and I felt my smile getting wide. Abby raced around the corner, her dark hair flying behind her. “Farmer John!”
I bent and scooped her up in my arms, kissing her cheek. She grabbed my face, squeezing my cheeks tightly. “Momma said you were coming.”
“Here I am,” I said in a high voice. “But my face is trapped.”
She let out a long string of girlish giggles, releasing her hands. “That’s me doing that!”
“Wow. That’s a relief.”
I set her down as Quinn appeared. She was wearing her denim overalls, and a pale-yellow T-shirt. Bright-pink toenails glinted in the light as her bare feet hit the hardwood floor.
“Hi,” she said, looking almost shy.
I leaned down, looping an arm around her waist and tugging her close. I dropped a fast kiss to her lips. “Hi, yourself.” I inhaled deeply. “Something smells incredible.” I sniffed again. “Is that peach cobbler I smell?”
She grinned. “A birdie named Laura might have mentioned it’s your favorite.”
I groaned. “Woman, you have no idea.”
“It’s ginormous,” Abby crowed. “Momma said you eat like a horse!”
“Oh, um,” Quinn stammered. “I mean?—”
I laughed, burying my face into her neck. “I do like to eat delicious things.” I grazed my mouth over her ear. “You were the most delicious thing until now. But the smell of your cobbler is giving that memory a run for its money.”
She blinked, stepping back. “Well, I suppose you’ll have to have a refresher, then, won’t you?”
I winked. “Quinn darlin’, I look forward to it.”
I looked down at my plate in amazement. “Is this…?” I trailed off, my voice catching.
Quinn looked pleased and shy at my reaction. “I found an old cookbook in the cupboard at the restaurant last week. Handwritten recipes and this meatloaf had a big star in the corner. I was hoping it was the one you loved.”
I took a bite, chewing and swallowing. “It’s perfect.”
“I found lots of little notes in the book. I was thinking of doing Throwback Thursdays as an homage to Thelma,” she explained. “Feature one of her daily specials every week.”
I swallowed around the thickness in my throat. “That would be fabulous. She’d have loved that.”
Quinn tasted her dinner and hummed in pleasure. “This will be the first one. This meatloaf is incredible.”
“It is.”
She smiled. “Good thing, since I made an extra one for you. For sandwiches.”
I squeezed her hand. “Now you’re talking.”
The rest of the meal was filled with chatter from Abby. I sat back with a groan after I finished my third plate. “Good God, you can cook.” I winked. “Explains the restaurant thing.”
Quinn laughed. “It’s more of an eatery or a diner, I think. It’s not fancy, and to me, the word restaurant conjures up fancy.”
I drained my glass of water, eyeing the last piece of meatloaf on the platter. I had eaten four, so five was probably too many. Quinn saw my gaze and laughed. “Eat it up. You’ve worked hard today.”
“So have you.”
“In a different way, yes.”
I couldn’t resist. The meatloaf was delicious and exactly as I remembered. Bursting with flavor and like a memory come to life. I bit and chewed, swallowing before I spoke again. “You can call your place anything you want. Bottom line is everyone, including my stubborn a—” I cleared my throat “—butt, thinks it’s awesome.”
She smiled, looking mischievous. “So happy you changed your mind.”
Abby looked at me, one eye closed. “You were going to say ass.”
I choked around my mouthful. “Ah…”
“I know what that is. I know lots of bad words, but Momma says I can’t use them. You were very polite to stop,” she informed me. “Ass isn’t as bad because it’s short for donkey, but we don’t say it in public.”
I bit back my grin. “You’re right, Pumpkin.”
She nodded. “Momma, can I be excused until dessert? I need to check my dolls.”
“Of course, baby.”
Abby wiped her mouth, placing her napkin on the table and sliding off the chair. I heard her run down the short hall, then start talking to her dolls.
“She is very grown up.”
Quinn sighed. “Preston demanded it.”
“He was hard on the two of you.”
“He was. But if that’s all she took away from our time with him, I’m glad. She acts more like a little girl now instead of a small adult. I love hearing her laugh. It took a long time before she felt free enough to do so.”
“And you?”
“It took me a long time to smile again and really mean it.” She stood, picking up her plate, then stopping by my chair. She bent and pressed a sweet kiss to my forehead. “You have helped a lot with that.”
“You’ve done the same.”
She opened the oven door. “Well then, Mr. Elliott, I’m about to blow your world wide open. When you taste this peach cobbler, you won’t stop smiling for days.”
“Where’d you get the peaches?”
“Clingstone Farms. I couldn’t believe they had some already.”
“Everything is early this year.”
“I bought a huge basket of tomatoes too. I decided BLTs were on the menu. I bought some local seven-grain bread, and with my homemade mayo and the pepper bacon I did, we sold out by one.”
“Awesome.”
“I want to do that,” she said as she scooped the cobbler into bowls. She lifted her eyebrow at me in a silent question after two large spoonfuls. I shook my head, and with a grin, she added more.
“Do what?”
“More farm to table. Make a special with what I get that day or week. Fresh produce, homemade goods from the locals. Feature them. We don’t get a lot of tourists, but today, I had a family come in, passing through town. By the time they finished their lunch, they were on their way to Clingstone and to the bakery.”
“That’s a great idea.”
She nodded. “I need to meet these people, talk to them.”
“I can help.”
“What?”
I grasped her hand. “I know these people. They’re my neighbors. Some are friends. We all have a common goal. To make our livelihood with the land. I can introduce you. Smooth the way. Help with negotiations if needed.” She opened her mouth, and I held up my finger. “Not that you can’t negotiate, but I speak their language. I know what they need to hear.”
She added ice cream to the bowls, looking thoughtful. I slipped a hand under her chin, lifting it. “Are you happy here, Quinn?”
“I love it here.”
I cupped her cheek, and she turned, pressing a kiss to my palm. “Especially now,” she added, her voice warm and soft.
“I want you happy. I want you to stay. Let me do this. Trust me enough to allow me to help.”
“Okay.”
Bending forward, I kissed her. Softly. I let her feel what I was feeling in that moment.
Then Abby ran in.
“Eww…again?” She scrambled up on her chair. “Can we have cobbler, or are you gonna keep kissing?”
I grinned against Quinn’s mouth. “Both, I hope.”
She pulled back, touching my bottom lip. “I’d say your chances were good, Farmer John.”
“Excellent.”
The days passed, somehow more quickly than before. My life seemed busier. Fuller. I realized it was because of the addition of two special people. Quinn and Abby were a constant now. I would drop by the restaurant for lunch. Go to Quinn’s place in the evening, or she would come to the farmhouse. We saw each other most days. The ones we didn’t seemed lonelier somehow. The more time we spent together, the closer we became. Quinn was more relaxed, the smile on her face now reaching her eyes. She was adjusting to her new life and seemed to love small-town living. Her friend Cathy came to see her, and I met her, seemingly getting her approval. We made plans to have dinner together with her and her husband one night. I knew the two women spoke on the phone often, and I was glad Quinn had a friend close by.
Abby resembled all the other kids her age. Running around, her feet dirty, hair mussed, and enjoying the freedom of summer and living a life without the boundaries her father had constantly placed on them. Her childish laughter rang out all the time. She was affectionate and open.
When I said so to Quinn, she had winked at me. “You’re pretty affectionate and open, too.”
She was right. Since the day she had kissed me at the restaurant, I’d had no issues pulling her in for a hug when I would see her. Kiss her tempting lips. Run my hand through her silky hair if I had the chance. She often laughed as I hauled her by the straps of the denim overalls she loved to wear to get her close enough to kiss, regardless of who was watching. At first, people seemed shocked, but now, they barely looked. It was the same with Abby. Anytime she saw me, I was greeted as if I’d been gone for months instead of a day, at times, even a matter of hours. They each made me feel special for different reasons.
And they made me smile more than I could recall doing my entire life.
My only complaint was the private time I got to spend with Quinn was rare. A few stolen hours after Abby fell asleep. The occasional late afternoon when Quinn was finished working and Abby was at a playdate. I couldn’t get enough of being with Quinn. Touching her soft skin. Tasting her. Being buried inside her. Hearing her whispers, the low gasps of delight, the long moans, and the way she breathed out my name as she climaxed.
I was addicted.
But I knew I had to be patient. She was still finding her feet after her horrible marriage, and I grappled with trust at times. We knew we needed to allow time to heal and find our footing together in this relationship.
Some days were harder than others.
Summer heat began to build, and the fields needed extra attention. I was preparing the new land for a crop of fall rye. It was the right location on the property, and the produce had lots of usage. Quinn and Laura had worked the old garden, and I had rebuilt the fence around it to keep the animals out. Vegetables were growing, the plants once again thriving. My gramps would be thrilled to see it.
Watching Quinn work in the garden brought back so many memories. My grandmother tending the plants with Gramps beside her. My mom in the garden, helping. Me learning so much.
I wiped my forehead, peering up at the relentless sun. I turned the hose to my head, letting the cold water run over my scalp and face. It felt good. My shirt was soaked when I shook my head, the water scattering huge drops everywhere. The sun would dry it soon enough. It had been a solid week without a break in the high temperatures. Shading my eyes, I looked over the fields, worried about the water usage, the crops surviving, and work we needed to do to ensure it. I looked back at the garden beds, wishing a hose and a few moments of water worked the same on the large acreage, then shook my head at the thoughts.
If wishes were horses…was a saying my gramps would mutter when a neighbor wished for rain, for more sun, for whatever they needed at the moment. The truth was, all a farmer could do was keep working, tending, and praying. I knew that all too well.
Quinn and Abby were coming over tonight. We planned another evening by the watering hole, the water refreshing and helping to keep us cool. I had bought and built a gazebo, which offered us great shade. Bob and I had added some chairs and a nice table, and we made great use of it. Quinn was bringing a cold dinner we would eat in the shade, and I had a large jar of iced tea brewing in the sun, the way Mom had done for years. I added lemons, limes, and grapefruit, then sweetened it with honey the way she had taught me. Quinn loved it, exclaiming over the burst of citrus. Abby wasn’t particularly interested, but she adored the watermelon lemonade I always had on hand for her.
I heard Quinn’s SUV, turning and waving as she got out, helping Abby from the back. They headed over, Abby greeting me in her usual exuberant fashion. “Farmer John! You’ll never guess what happened today!”
Quinn took the hose from me, and I brushed a kiss to her mouth before hunching in front of Abby. “What, Pumpkin?”
“I went down the slide too fast, and Joey was standing in front of it. I yelled, but he didn’t move. I knocked him over, and he got mad and he pushed me. Bethy punched Joey and knocked his tooth right out!”
Bethy was Abby’s “bestest” friend. She was wild. Rough and tough and didn’t put up with any shit from anyone. And she loved Abby fiercely and was very protective. Hearing she’d punched a boy wasn’t a shock, although I was sure her dad wasn’t happy. Since his wife had left him, he’d been trying to tame Bethy, but she was incredibly determined and outspoken.
“Did she apologize?” I asked, lifting my gaze to Quinn, who shook her head, trying not to laugh.
“Nope. He was madder than a hornet, but Bethy told him not to be such a whiny baby and to put the tooth under a pillow, and he’d get money. He was happy then.”
I tried not to laugh. “Not to be such a whiny baby.”
That little girl was something else. I feared for the man who fell for her one day.
And I felt equal parts worried and amused for her father, Jason.
“And Mommy and me made treats!”
I stood. “In this heat?”
Quinn laughed. “We did it at the restaurant in the cool.”
“Is the house not cool?” I asked, worried.
“Not as nice as the restaurant. The air is cool, but not cold the past couple of days.”
“I’ll come look at it. Maybe it needs a top-up. You should have said something,” I scolded gently.
“You’re up to your eyeballs right now. We’re fine.”
“I’ll look tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” She paused. “Laura and company coming tonight?”
“No. Cody has soccer practice and a team barbecue.”
“So, I get you all to myself?” she asked with an exaggerated leer.
I bent close, brushing my lips over hers. “Every last inch.”
“Yay, me.”
I snickered. “Now, let’s get our swim stuff and head to the water.”
“We made submarine sandwiches and brought chips.”
“Plus treats!” Abby added.
“Sounds great.”
The water was refreshing, and I felt the lingering exhaustion the heat always brought lift off me. We ate the delicious sandwiches, and I smirked as I was offered a large square of Rice Krispies treat. I took the gooey treat eagerly. “Haven’t had one of these in years.” I bit down and chewed. “It tastes about a hundred times better than I remembered, and that was pretty damn tasty.”
“Momma has a secret in…ingrad.”
“Ingredient,” Quinn corrected her.
“Yeah. Ingredient.”
I took another bite, munching slowly. “It’s very chewy.”
“I add toffee to the marshmallows. Gives it more flavor.”
“Great addition.”
“I helped stir in the Krispies!” Abby informed me.
“I knew it had been stirred extra well,” I said with a nod. “Great job, Pumpkin.”
She beamed at me—one of her bright, sunny smiles. It took so little to make her happy. A kind word. A hug. A teddy bear.
“Can I swim again?”
“Yes, just make sure we can see you.”
We watched as she launched herself into the water, floating on one of the toys we had.
“You are so good with her.”
“It’s easy to be good to her. She deserves it.” I cleared my throat. “You both do.”
Bending forward, Quinn pulled my mouth to hers, and I cupped the back of her head, groaning as her tongue stroked along mine. We kissed deeply, getting lost with each other until the splashing made us look up. Abby was observing us, obviously disgusted. Chuckling, I pressed one last kiss to Quinn’s lips. “Eww,” I murmured, using Abby’s words from the other night. “Is that all you want to do to me? Kiss?”
Quinn lifted her eyebrows. “Not all.”
My shorts suddenly felt tight, and I decided I needed to get in the water.
“I feel so used,” I teased.
“Wait until later.”
I was looking forward to that.