6. Lottie
Chapter 6
Lottie
I’m sifting through my closet, trying to find something that doesn’t scream, “I’ve given up on adulting,” when Aiden bursts into my bedroom, his tiny face scrunched up in concern. I drop the questionable sweater I was about to throw on over my pink blouse and kneel to his level.
It’s been three weeks since the incident. News travels fast in a small town, and once rumors circulated that I’d been targeted because of my connection to Aiden’s case, his temporary foster family became twitchy. They were reluctant to keep a child who could potentially bring danger to their doorstep, particularly as they had the safety of other foster kids to consider.
I couldn’t blame them, although it seemed like another abandonment of a child who needed love and protection. I knew I could give him the first in unmeasured quantity, and Quinn and his team could provide the latter for both of us. Which is how Aiden came to be living with me.
Adjusting to life with a traumatized child hasn’t been easy, but it’s the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. Aiden has had to ensure things no four-year-old should.
He woke every night the first week he was with me, crying and shaking until I soothed him back to sleep. It broke my heart to see and hear his pain, and I vowed to do whatever it took to give him the peace and security he deserved.
The second week was better as he settled into his new routine, and this past week has seen his bruises fade to light smudges, a healthy glow return to his pale features, and him sleeping through the night. The speech therapist has been spending time with him, as well as the school counselor, who’s helping him process his emotions through play therapy.
But right now, my little man is upset.
“Hey, buddy, what’s the emergency?” I ask, keeping my voice light despite the hammering of my heart. It hasn’t stopped since the night Quinn and I were shot at, a stark reminder that danger is only a shadow away.
“Mr. Bear gone!” he declares, near tears. He thrusts his empty hands at me as if I can conjure his stuffed friend from thin air.
Aiden is incredibly attached to the bear I bought when he moved in, and he takes him everywhere. Mr. Bear sits in the chair while we eat dinner, accompanies Aiden to the bathroom, and is tucked securely under Aiden’s chin as he sleeps. He’d take Mr. Bear to pre-K if I let him. In his young mind, Mr. Bear is his friend and will never leave him. So losing him is a big deal.
“Okay, mission ‘Find Mr. Bear’ is a go.” I take his hand, squeezing reassurance into his palm.
We embark on the noble quest, checking under beds, behind doors, and in closets until we find the fuzzy fugitive hiding in the laundry basket.
“Fank you, Lollie,” Aiden says, clutching Mr. Bear like a lifeline.
His eyes are like two drops of the darkest chocolate and hold gratitude far too deep for someone his age.
I ruffle his hair, something I can do now he’s used to me and trusts me. “Anytime, kiddo.”
Anxiety and anticipation jolt through me as the doorbell rings. With Aiden safely distracted by his reclaimed bear, I stride toward the door and pull it open. Quinn stands there, all brooding intensity wrapped in a sheriff’s uniform that fits him in ways that have nothing to do with regulations.
He stops by every morning before school and every evening to check in on us, and he has a deputy stationed outside the house, keeping watch overnight. The extra security makes me feel safe, and I wish Quinn would linger, but he only stays long enough to ensure all the windows and doors are secure and check we have everything we need.
I’m not sure what’s happened since the night we were shot at, but Quinn has been distant. He’s all business now, a far cry from the man who kissed me so passionately that night and in my office.
Has he changed his mind about pursuing whatever this is between us? It’s not like I have any claim on him, and it was my suggestion we keep things casual, fearing that any personal involvement between Quinn and me would jeopardize Aiden’s case.
But we had such a great time together on our “not-a-date” before the whole almost-dying thing. Then I asked him to kiss me, and I thought we were on the same page, that it was one of those near- death situations that makes you realize what’s important and what isn’t. And Quinn is… important to me.
“Evening, Lottie,” he greets, his gaze sweeping over me in my pink blouse and jeans.
“Quinn, come on in.” I step aside, but not before our fingers graze, sending sparks up my arm. I hide the shiver by busying myself with leading him to the living room.
“Everything all right?” he asks, his brows drawing together as he scans the space, ensuring all is in order.
“Mr. Bear decided to go AWOL, but we negotiated his safe return. Crisis averted.” I attempt humor because if I don’t, I might crumble under the weight of reality.
“Good work, detective.” His lips twitch, and I swear I see the ghost of a smile, the first one he’s gifted me in weeks.
I count every one he gives me as a victory, partial or otherwise, and wonder, not for the first time, what made this incredibly protective, loyal man so serious. Something tells me it’s due to more than his job.
“Thanks. I think I missed my calling.” I perch on the edge of the couch, watching as Aiden shows Quinn the pictures he painted at pre-K with the pride of a king presenting his crown jewels.
“You’re settling into your new role well,” Quinn murmurs, sitting on the sofa as Aiden heads to his room for more toys.
“He’s important to me,” I admit, fierce protectiveness rising within me like a dragon waking from slumber.
“Lottie—”
I shake my head, cutting him off. “Can’t talk about it now, not with little ears around.”
I tilt my head toward Aiden, who reappears with more stuffed toys. He arranges them on the couch with Mr. Bear, his expression as serious as a general positioning his troops.
“Understood.” Quinn nods, and we leave it at that.
I sneak glances at Quinn as we watch Aiden play, noting the tension around his mouth and the hint of pain in his silver eyes. How many times has he witnessed scenes like this, knowing what he does about the things that happen behind closed doors?
For once, Quinn doesn’t seem in a hurry to leave, joining Aiden on the floor as they work on a jigsaw puzzle. My ovaries clench at the sight of them, the vulnerable boy who looks at the big, dark-haired sheriff with something akin to hero worship.
Later, after Aiden’s bedtime story has been read and he’s fallen into a—hopefully—nightmare-free sleep, Quinn double-checks the locks on the doors and windows. His thoroughness is comforting, and his presence fills the spaces with silent strength.
“Thanks for staying late,” I murmur as we stand awkwardly in the hallway, the quiet pressing in around us. “Aiden enjoys his time with you.” I lift my gaze to his. “I do, too.”
Quinn’s eyes lock onto mine, intense and unwavering. “I owe you an apology.”
My eyebrows rise in surprise. “For?”
“For pushing you away these last few weeks.” He pauses, raking a hand through his hair. “The truth is, Lottie, that night you were shot at scared the hell out of me. I’ve been doing this job for years. I know how to take care of myself, but you being in danger like that… Shit, you could’ve been killed.”
“I thought you’d changed your mind about me. I knew I should never have told you about Mr. Sips-a-lot.” It’s an attempt at humor, but I can’t conceal the thread of hurt in my voice.
“I’m sorry, Lottie. So fucking sorry. You mean a lot to me. You and Aiden. Your unwillingness to let him return to danger... it’s brave, Lottie. Reckless but brave. I’ve never met anyone like you. It’s… I’m used to being alone, of only having myself to think about, but now…” He trails off, seemingly unable to find the words. He looks at me, his eyes saying the things he can’t vocalize.
And suddenly, I understand. He cares. About Aiden. About me. And it terrifies him.
My voice is soft as I say, “Sometimes the line between reckless and brave is blurry, but it’s natural to fear for those you care about, Quinn.”
“Blurry or not, I’m here. No more pushing you away. I’ll help you protect him. Protect you both.”
His declaration is solemn. I believe him. I have to.
“Thank you.” My voice barely rises above a whisper, and the air between us crackles with unspoken words. I’m aware of how close he is, how every breath I take is laced with his scent, clean soap, and something ruggedly outdoorsy.
“Always.” It’s his vow, and it burrows deeper into my bones, becoming part of my foundation.
“You know, more kisses wouldn’t hurt,” I murmur, surprising myself with my boldness. Maybe it’s the adrenaline still coursing through my veins or his proximity making my skin tingle. Either way, I want more of Quinn Jordan’s kisses and a whole lot more than that to go with them.
“Kisses, huh?” He arches an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth quirks up. He’s so damn sexy without even trying.
“Strictly for morale purposes,” I clarify because I’m charming, funny, and definitely not standing here with flushed cheeks and a pounding heart.
“Of course, for morale.” He steps closer, and the space between us evaporates like morning mist under the sun.
Quinn’s arms come around me, wrapping me in his vast strength. When his lips meet mine, it lights a spark, igniting something within me that I didn’t know was cold. Clutching at his shirt, I pull him closer, needing more, so much more of him. I press my open lips to his, touching his tongue with mine. I taste the freshness of mint on his breath with a hint of bitter coffee, but most of all the rich essence of him.
A growl leaps from his throat as he tugs my bottom lip between his teeth, causing liquid heat to pool between my thighs. And then he’s kissing me with a savage hunger, his tongue stroking mine in rough, luscious strokes. His hands slide down my back to my ass, cupping and squeezing before pulling me firmly against his hips. I moan at the hard shape of his arousal, starving for his hands and mouth and body, his powerful weight over and between and inside me.
When Quinn finally pulls back, we’re both panting for air. Our gazes hold, and warmth spreads through me that has nothing to do with the heated kiss. It’s the warmth of safety, the glow of budding trust, and the sizzle of a bond forged in the fires of shared battles.
I have no idea what will happen next, but I hope it’s the right choice. I haven’t had a love life up to this point—my career was too important to me—but Quinn has thrown a wrench in that non-plan.
“Lottie—”
“Shh.” I press a finger to his lips like I did the day he kissed me in my office, something more profound than our usual banter pulling at me. “Don’t. We’ve had enough heavy for one day.”
He nods, the tension in his jaw easing as I slide my hand down to clasp his. We stand there, unmoving, breathing the same air, sharing the stillness of a house finally at peace.
“Stay.” The word slips out before I can think better of it. It’s not a question. It’s a plea. A need. A crack in my armor I didn’t even realize was there until this moment.
“Lottie…” Quinn’s voice is a low rumble, full of warning and promise all at once. He closes his eyes briefly as if battling with himself.
“Stay,” I repeat, slightly stronger this time, meeting his gaze without flinching. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
And then his lips are on mine again, gentle at first, then deepening as I respond with an eagerness that surprises even me.
When we finally break apart, there’s a new understanding between us, a silent agreement that tonight is about needing to feel connected, to share warmth in a world that can be too damn cold.
“Let me check on Aiden,” I whisper, pulling away, putting distance between us, though it’s the last thing I want to do. I need to think, although it seems all I’ve done is spend the last few weeks thinking about kissing Quinn and protecting Aiden.
Quinn nods once. “I’ll send Miller home,” he says, referring to the deputy parked outside.
I blush, knowing what Miller will make of Quinn staying, but I don’t care. I want my big, gruff sheriff more than anything, and I no longer care who knows it. We’re not breaking any rules, not doing anything wrong. How could what I feel for Quinn possibly be wrong?
I quietly make my way down the hall to the room now occupied by the small, precious boy I’ve come to love. Glancing back, I see Quinn slipping out the front door.
I crack open Aiden’s door and peer into the room, softly lit by a machine that casts the constellations on the ceiling as a nightlight. Aiden’s tucked up under his covers, Mr. Bear tucked under his chin, his small face peaceful and flushed with sleep.
That puts a smile on my face as I stand there, taking pleasure in simply watching him. The click of the front door closing again pulls me from my reverie, and I turn to see Quinn. His piercing eyes capture mine as he stalks toward me, stripping away any pretense of light-heartedness I might have left.
“Sleeping like an angel,” I whisper, my pulse racing as he comes to stand beside me. “You’d never know he’s been through so much.”
“Kids are resilient,” Quinn murmurs as he looks at the sleeping child, a shadow of something, pain, maybe, in his voice. I’m never quite sure with him.
I pull Aiden’s door closed and turn to face him. “No complications,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just... us. Tonight.”
“Us. Tonight.” He echoes my words, his subtle scent of leather and pine weaving around me as he seals them with a kiss.
But I know I’m fooling myself as he scoops me into his arms. Because one night with this man will never be enough.