Chapter 23
I Should Really Start Using the Front Door
Tripp
Fourteen Years Ago
Ibend over and creep to Quinn's window, rapping quietly with my knuckles as a gentle breeze breaks the heaviness of the July humidity hanging in the air.
I’m not sure what the fuck I’m doing knocking on her window. I’m way too old to be doing this shit at twenty, but I needed to make sure she was okay.
I’ve tried to keep my distance from my best friend’s little sister this summer. He’s not here to be a buffer, and it’s made being near her that much harder. The fantasies I come up with late at night with my hand around my dick would have Wes slaughtering me without a second thought if he knew.
Being around her is a damn trial, but not because she’s the annoying little sister of my best friend. It’s because she’s the gorgeous little sister of my best friend.
I’ve made a point to be scarce every time she comes over to hang out with Allie and Sawyer. The fact she turns eighteen soon would make zero difference to him.
The sound of wood creaking pulls my attention back to the window. And there's Quinn—hair in glossy waves, wearing shorts that are way too short and a shirt that cuts way too tight across her chest, and fuck—
I tear my gaze away from her body—a body I’m not allowed to look at or think about like that.
But looking into those wide baby blues is even worse. Mascara streaks her cheeks, and my heart drops.
She’s crying. Because of me.
This is all my fault.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice a pathetic croak.
I can’t take that forlorn look on her face. I hop down from the windowsill and step toward her, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. “Allie said you called and sounded upset.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, Tripp.”
“She told me what happened. Porter’s a jerk for standing you up,” I say, despite knowing he did it because I threatened him.
I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t stand the thought of him taking my Quinnie anywhere. He folded like a complete pussy—didn’t even have the balls to call, just left her here waiting when he knew damn well he wasn’t coming.
Wes wasn’t here to scare off any of the guys who were up to no good. He wasn’t here to protect her—not since he had started college and hadn’t come back to the ranch. So, it was up to me.
“I shouldn’t care. It’s stupid.”
It’s like she’s trying to talk herself into not giving a fuck what people in this small town think. And she shouldn’t care. She’s so much better than all of them.
“Definitely shouldn’t give a fuck about Porter. He’s a twat waffle.”
She snorts, muttering twat waffle back at me. “I just thought he actually liked me. I don’t know what I did wrong."
I exhale a hard breath through my nose. This is why I came. I knew she would blame herself even though it didn't have anything to do with her.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Quinnie. I’m sorry about tonight.”
I mean it—sort of.
I’m not sorry I scared off Porter. But I am sorry she thinks it’s because of her.
“You’re better than all of them. It’s why you have such a hard time. You’re too good for all of us.”
She rolls her eyes. “Right.”
“I mean it. You’re smart and beautiful and better than every girl in the county at trail class and showmanship. And they’re all jealous because you’re not even here practicing year-round, but you still whoop their asses every single summer.”
“Maybe I should have let them win. Maybe I would have fit in better.”
Fitting in here could be hard, especially if you had something they envied, like beauty, brains, and talent. They were all inferior to Quinn and they knew it. But she shouldn't change for anyone.
“Nah. Keep fucking shining, Quinnie. Don’t dim your brightness for them or anyone else.”
She looks up at me, soft and vulnerable, eyes full of wonder. And I want to lean down and brush my lips over hers—to pull her close and never let go. Instead, I tilt my head toward her bedroom door. “Come on.”
“Come on where? I don’t think Pops will like that you snuck in my bedroom window.”
Maybe not. But part of me wonders if the old man isn’t as in the dark about what happens on this ranch as he pretends to be. Still, I might be pressing my luck waltzing down the stairs like this is all innocent, even if it is—mostly.
“Fine. I’ll climb back out the window and meet you out front.”
“Where are we going?” she asks, grabbing my arm.
“I’m taking you to the dance.”
“Tripp, you don’t have to do that. I know you have better things to do than—”
“No, I don’t. Not tonight.”
Nothing is more important than making up for ruining her night. I should have stayed out of it. But in the moment, it felt impossible.
There’s a hopeful glint in her eyes that feels dangerous. Like maybe she’s thinking about me the same way I think about her. But then she blinks it away and nods.
“I’ll be down in a minute. I need to fix my makeup.”
“You look beautiful the way you are.”
She pulls back, looking at me like I’m deranged. “I look like a pathetic raccoon. My makeup’s all smudged.”
Before I can protest anymore, she slips out of her bedroom. I roll my eyes and start to climb out the window, but the crinkling of a wrapper reminds me of what’s in my shirt pocket. I pull out the Peanut Butter M&M’s, tossing them onto her bed with a soft thud.
The night is still heavy with humidity, and my palms are sweaty as I shimmy back down the tree. Fuck. I should really start using the front door.
I wipe them on my jeans before I round the porch and march up the stairs to knock on the door. It swings open before I have the chance, and Quinn smiles up at me, the black streaks washed off her face.
“That was quick.”
“I’ve perfected my makeup routine. I can do a full face in five minutes, and I just needed to touch it up a bit.”
“It looks good,” I say, opening the door of my truck for her.
She gnaws on her lip, gaze dropping to her cowgirl boots as she mutters a quiet “thanks” and climbs in the truck.
It’s a twenty-minute drive to the fairgrounds, and while it’s not awkward, it is silent, so I turn on the radio, grateful when I hear one of Quinn’s favorites. She hums along and before long, we’re both singing at the top of our lungs. Quinn’s laughter tugs at something in my chest.
It feels important—this moment—but for the life of me, I’m not sure why. If she were anyone else, maybe this could be the start of something, but she’s not.
She’s Wes’ sister.
And she’ll be gone, just like her brother, when she starts college next year.
When we get to the fairgrounds, the music is blaring through the warm summer air. I glance at Quinn, who’s staring up at the stars sparkling in the sky like it’s the most awe-inspiring thing she’s ever seen. The stars are beautiful, but the night sky has nothing on her.
“I can never see the stars like this at home,” she says when she sees me watching her. She inhales a deep breath. “It’s what I love about it out here. It’s so wide open and it makes me feel free, not as claustrophobic as the city.”
I nod.
“You’re not planning on just dropping me off and leaving, are you?”
I shoot her a glance.
That had been my plan. But then I’d gotten out of my truck and saw her eyes pinned to the sky, and now I can’t seem to pull myself away.
As we weave through the picnic tables in the beer garden, the smells of funnel cakes and corn dogs frying waft on the night breeze. I spot the pavilion where the music is playing.
“Stay. Please?” she says, her big blue eyes pleading. “Just one dance.”
I can’t say no to her. Not when she looks at me with that adorably expectant gaze. Not when I know this might be the last time we have together like this.
Next summer I’ll be on the rodeo circuit full time, like I’ve been working toward, and she’ll be at college. And her summers in Cottonwood Creek will come to an end.
“One dance,” I agree.
I see Allie and Sawyer dancing in the middle of the crowd and allow Quinn to pull me onto the dance floor as a new song starts to play.
I keep her right hand in mine and settle the other on her hip, maintaining a respectful distance from her, even though everything in me is dying to pull her closer, hold her tighter, have every curve of her body flush against me.
We sway to the song playing over the speakers, her hands soft and small in mine.
“Thanks for checking on me tonight,” she says, her words nearly drowned out by the music.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her not to thank me, that I’m the reason her night was ruined in the first place. But instead, I let the beautiful lie slide past my lips.
“Always, Quinnie. I’ll always be there when you need me.”