Chapter 30 Taran
Being with Quinn’s children was easier than I thought it would be. I’d built it up as some kind of monster in my mind—that they would be this constant reminder of all that had been lost between us.
Yet, it didn’t feel that way for the few hours we spent with them at dinner.
Watching them interact with their father, seeing the bond and love, I knew how right this was. Heather and Angus were meant to be in this world, were meant to be loved by Quinn and Kiera.
It was a bittersweet realization but also profound. It soothed a wound that hadn’t healed for nineteen years, and I hadn’t expected that.
They were also a wonderful distraction, so much so it was difficult to believe that only just this morning someone had attempted to kidnap me.
However, that memory returned after we dropped off the kids at Kiera and Gary’s house—a large bungalow in a leafy, narrow-laned residential area in the hills above the town.
Quinn and I drove in silence back into Oban and parked at his hotel.
Despite the immensity of the day, it was like the adrenaline still hadn’t left my system.
I booked the last room available, but the thought of heading to it to be alone filled me with dread.
So, when Quinn suggested we get a drink in the bar, I followed.
A couple was just getting up from a cozy booth in the back, so I snagged it while Quinn ordered us a couple of NA beers.
I watched him while his back was turned, admiring the length of his body and those broad shoulders.
A flush of heat warmed through me and a warning siren went off in my head.
When Quinn moved toward the table with drinks in hand, it was easy to dull the siren and let the attraction wash over me instead.
He was so handsome, the sight of him caused a physical ache.
I shimmied over to let him into the booth and though there was plenty of space, he still sat close enough for our legs to touch, for his arm to brush mine every time he reached for his drink.
After asking me how I was after the events of the day, it wasn’t entirely unexpected when Quinn enquired gruffly, “What did Kiera say to you?”
I bit my lip to halt a smile because I knew he’d been stewing on it ever since Kiera trapped me in conversation at the hockey game.
It had been a strange interaction because half of me had wanted to get up and walk away. Every time I looked at her pretty face, the jealousy of knowing she’d had Quinn for all those years was almost overwhelming. But the other half of me needed to know what she had to say.
In the end, I was glad I’d stayed to listen.
My fingers trailed a droplet of liquid as it spilled over my pint glass. “She … Kiera wanted to apologize for her part in what happened between us. She said much the same as you, that she couldn’t remember a lot about that night. But she admitted to not caring much about our breakup.”
Quinn muttered angrily under his breath.
“It’s fine,” I assured him.
“Then why are you refusing to look at me?”
I turned pointedly to look at him. There was fear there but also that tender affection I’d tried to hide from for months.
“She said she was just a kid like we were and that it took her a while to realize that it would have been better if you’d co-parented with Heather.
That you … you never let her in, that you were distant, and when she realized I wasn’t coming back to Leth Sholas …
that’s when she knew how …” I glanced away again.
“How much we’d loved each other and how much damage had been caused. She said she was sorry for her part.
“And I reminded her that if you hadn’t stayed together, there would be no Angus. A world without Angus would be a terrible place. Things worked out the way they were supposed to, Quinn.”
His gaze was intense and searching, as if trying to determine the validity of my belief in those words.
“Kiera …” I reached for the pint and took a gulp, lubricating my suddenly dry throat. “Kiera told me that it was obvious to her over the course of your marriage that you never fell out of love with me. That she asked you straight to your face and you couldn’t deny it.”
Quinn tried to speak but had to clear his throat. “That’s … nothing I haven’t already told you.”
“I know.”
Suddenly, he touched me, his fingers gentle on my chin as he turned my face toward his. The hair on the nape of my neck rose as our eyes locked, that otherworldly awareness that existed between us tingling over me.
“So you believe me now?”
It would be so easy to lose myself in him again. So easy. And maybe right. But there was this barrier inside me I just couldn’t quite get past, and I didn’t know why anymore. I just knew there was fear and it wasn’t letting go.
“If … if I say I do, it doesn’t … it doesn’t mean …” I curled my fingers around his and eased them from my chin. I gave them a squeeze, trying to soften the blow. “It doesn’t mean I can be with you.”
Something dimmed in his eyes, but he nodded. “I can wait.”
Over the next hour, we discussed that morning’s attack, the possibilities, what we would do next.
We talked about the charity shop and our plans for that.
We chatted about anything but our relationship and yet it hung over us.
I had to concentrate hard on what Quinn said because every time his arm brushed mine or his leg shifted against me, my mind fogged over with need.
It had been so long since I’d had sex.
But nineteen years was a long time since I’d had the best sex of my life with the man sitting right next to me, teasing all my senses with his mere presence.
At one point, a flash of memory hit me so sharply, it was like it happened yesterday.
It was from a night the summer before I left for uni.
Quinn was walking me home late through town and no one was on the street.
I was teasing him because we hadn’t had sex that night, and he was about to lose his opportunity once I was safely ensconced in my house.
Quinn had dragged me down the lane at the back of the antiques store and I thought he was joking at first.
He wasn’t.
We’d had sex in the middle of Leth Sholas, down a dark alley, and the excitement and taboo thrill of it had been intoxicating.
I could still remember the vague discomfort of the brick wall at my back, the quick, thick drag of him inside me, the smell of the sea air, and the way he’d kissed me breathless to stop me from looking out toward the street.
We’d both come so hard, we’d barely stifled the sound of our release.
The memory was an aphrodisiac.
“I should head to bed,” I announced abruptly, my skin flushed because I was definitely wet from the memory.
Flustered, I practically shooed Quinn out of the booth.
His intense gaze fixed on me as he slid out to let me up. Our bodies brushed and I stumbled away from him, my cheeks on fire.
“You all right?” I recognized the deep rumble of his voice.
Bloody hell, he knew I was turned on.
Unfortunately, our rooms were on the same floor, and I had to share the narrow lift with him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Quinn pressed as we stepped inside the small steel box.
“Uh-huh.” I stared determinedly at the lift doors as we rose upward because I was afraid if I looked at him, all sense of reason would leave me.
“You’ll be all right after everything this morning?”
“Yup.” The doors opened, and I hurried off it like the lift was on fire.
I thought I heard Quinn making a choking sound, but when I glanced back at him, there was no amusement in his expression. His eyes blazed with an intensity that incited a deep tug in my lower belly.
Oh no.
“This is me.” Quinn nodded at his door.
“Right.” I walked backward. “Good night. See you in the morning.”
“Good night, Taran.”
Och, even his growly voice saying my name made me horny.
Bloody hell.
“Night,” I squeaked out, whirled around, and marched to my room.
I fumbled to get inside, almost slamming the door behind me as I fell against it, breathing hard, trying to calm down.
Except I couldn’t.
It was like the adrenaline from this morning still coursed through my body.
I stared at the bed in the tiny hotel room.
What if … what if whoever tried to take me this morning had followed me and Quinn today? I could fall asleep in this room and they could break in and—
I shrugged out of my rain jacket, dumped it on the bed with my purse, and then threw open the door.
Facts were that I couldn’t be alone. It was too dangerous.
Well … that was my excuse, and I was sticking to it.