12. Quinn
12
QUINN
“ W e’re home!” I call, entering through the towering front door of my brother’s Seagate mansion.
Lance follows silently, locking the door firmly behind us.
“Good thing. I’m starving,” Killian says, slinging an arm around my shoulders before I’ve even had time to put down my schoolbag. “I was about to tell Cheryl to serve up dinner without you.”
Jabbing him playfully in the stomach, I slip out from under his arm and deposit my books by the stairs leading up to my wing of the house. “Like she would ever betray me like that,” I chide.
“Hey, Quinn,” Natasha says, entering gracefully from the patio. “How’d the first week back at school end up?”
I glance up at Lance, who’s not far from my right shoulder, and heat creeps up my neck. Because after our conversation earlier, I’m more conflicted about how I might answer that than ever. He made it perfectly clear that he would rather be out murdering the Italians than babysitting me. And all the while, his constant proximity has been wreaking havoc on my nerves all week. Because despite my best efforts, it’s making my crush on him grow to almost unbearable intensity.
It hurt—hearing that spending so much time with me is an annoyance to him, and it reinforces that he probably only sees me as an annoying little sister. So, while I’ve actually kind of enjoyed my week back at school, I don’t feel good admitting it.
“It was fine.” I shrug. “Nothing out of the norm.”
“That’s good.” Natasha offers me an encouraging smile.
I return it, unusually glad that I have another girl in the house—someone who’s not my brother or the man I’m painfully attracted to.
Filing into the dining room, we all take our places at the table. And as Cheryl brings in the first course of spring salad with strawberries and caramelized walnuts drizzled in cherry molasses dressing, I glance toward my brother.
“How was your week?” I ask, picking at my salad and pushing it around my plate as I make a weak attempt at foraging for information about the Italian conflict.
“Not nearly as bad as some people’s,” he says cheekily, sharing a pointed look with Lance.
Oh God. Has Lance been so frustrated about babysitting me that he even talked to Killian about it? My cheeks flame just thinking about it, and I have the distinct urge to shrink in my chair and hide beneath the table.
“You’re making Lucian pay, then?” Lance asks, his voice gruff with intensity.
Killian’s responding smirk sends a shiver down my spine, and though I know that probably means someone’s dead right about now, it also gives me an intense amount of relief to know Killian wasn’t referring to Lance.
“Tenfold,” he says. “I’m sorry you couldn’t join in the fun, but I’ll give you the gory details sometime.”
Rolling my eyes, I spear my salad leaves more forcefully than necessary. “I hate it when you talk about it all vaguely like that. As if I’m not as much a part of this as you are. If you want to tell him, why not just tell him? I think Lance has endured enough being stuck with babysitting duty this week. Please, put him out of his misery.”
“I hardly think it’s appropriate dinner talk,” Killian says. “You might enjoy all the blood and guts from nursing, but I don’t want Lance or Natasha to lose their appetites. Cheryl said she made pot roast.”
“That’s right,” Cheryl announces, stepping through the doorway from the kitchen with Henry on her heels. “So you better be hungry.”
Releasing a heavy breath, I do my best to set aside my defensive feelings. I hate being left in the dark. Feeling like an inconvenience to Lance and my brother. Being part of the family but not quite one of the Kings. And my conversation with Lance earlier only makes me feel more like I’m just in the way. Still, I know my brother has a point. If they are actually gory details, maybe I’m not the reason he doesn’t want to discuss them.
“I thought a movie night might be nice,” Natasha says as we dig into our second course. “It’s been forever since I’ve sat down and watched one with anybody. And I thought it could be a nice, normal-person tradition to start up. Care to join us?”
She flashes me a warm smile, and I can’t say no to my sister-in-law when she puts it that way.
“Sure,” I agree. “Sounds fun. What are we watching?”
“Anything but The Godfather . Or Scarface ,” Killian interjects quickly.
Natasha laughs. “Don’t want to watch a documentary of your life?” she teases.
“Hardly,” he snorts.
“Well then, how about The Departed ?” I suggest innocently.
My brother glares in my direction.
“I was thinking something a bit more…lighthearted,” Natasha says, pressing her lips together in amusement as she glances my way. “Maybe a comedy or chick flick.”
I shrug. “Sounds fun.” Honestly, watching my brother sit down for a chick flick might be more amusing than the movie itself. But he doesn’t utter a single objection—which is how I know that Natasha has him all but wrapped around her finger.
And I don’t even bother to glance in Lance’s direction. Because after our conversation this afternoon, I’m sure he’ll be out the door as soon as dinner’s over. Not that I can blame him. He’s been spending the night here since I was taken. He’d probably like to spend some time at his house. Without having to think about me and my problems.
But as we finish up in the dining room and head toward my brother’s mostly unused home theater, I’m surprised to find him just a few steps behind me. And as Killian and Natasha take one couch, my sister-in-law curling up against my brother’s side, that leaves me and Lance to share the other couch.
Natasha scrolls through her phone, finding a movie and casting it to the TV, while Lance closes the door and turns the lights down.
And as soon as he settles onto the cushion beside me, the room charges with unexpected electrical energy. He’s careful to occupy the far end, resting one arm across the back of the cushions while his other leans against the armrest. But he’s so tall, his fingertips come within inches of my shoulder.
I can barely breathe, he’s so close. I tuck my feet up underneath me, wrapping my arms around my legs so I don’t do anything that might actually make me brush against him. But as the screen flickers to life and the opening song blares through the surround sound speakers, I can almost feel the body heat radiating from Lance.
His clean, crisp scent still smells vaguely of gunpowder and smoke, and I wonder how that could be when he’s spent all week following me around, doing completely innocuous things. Does he wear some kind of cologne labeled Badass Masculinity or something?
I’ve never been more grateful for the dark because it hides the flush I feel creeping into my cheeks. Because, while this isn’t the first movie I’ve ever sat down to watch with Lance, I’ve normally had a roomful of family watching with us, making noise and being rowdy. And usually, Lance and Killian are fighting over who gets what space on a couch. I’ve never watched a movie with Lance when it’s only us and another couple in the room.
And though I know it’s as far from a double date as this could possibly get, it still feels dangerously close to becoming one.
I can barely focus on the storyline with Lance in such close proximity. Honestly, I don’t even know if Natasha picked a rom-com or a serious movie. Because I’m trying my best not to continuously watch Lance out of the corner of my eye like some lovesick puppy.
Still, I can’t help but steal glances of him from under my lashes now and again. And every time, he looks perfectly at ease, his shoulders relaxed, his deep-ocean eyes focused on the screen. His powerful jawline and the dark facial hair that looks like a five-o’clock shadow three days in the making only emphasize how masculine he is.
He could seriously be the love interest in a Hollywood movie. Girls would swoon over watching him in a meet-cute with some perky-breasted, lip-filler blonde. But the thought of Lance taking up acting nearly makes me laugh out loud. I can’t imagine for an instant the stoic man of so few words choosing to be a movie star.
Pressing my lips together to suppress the humor that bubbles up inside me, I keep my eyes locked on the screen for the rest of the movie. And by the time the ending credits roll, my body is stiff from how still I sat through the entire thing.
With a soft groan, I stretch my legs to put my feet back onto the floor, and I glance to my left, where Killian and Natasha are sitting. Despite this being her idea, Natasha must have fallen asleep sometime during the movie. Her cheek rests on the shoulder of the arm my brother has wrapped around her. And the look he gives her as he glances down to see her sleeping is so incredibly tender it makes my heart ache.
With a soft smile, he shifts carefully to sneak his other arm beneath her knees, and then he hoists her up off the couch without so much as jostling her.
Our eyes meet, and I can’t help but smile at just how damn cute my brother and his wife are. Talk about a match made in heaven. A pang of longing slices through my chest, and try as I might not to, I wish that Lance and I could be like that.
Unrequited feelings are the worst.
Not only are they frustrating and humiliating. They make me feel completely pathetic.
And still, I can’t seem to help myself.
Because try as I might, I’ve never felt for any guy the way I do about Lance.
Not even fractionally.
“Night,” Killian murmurs, and as Lance opens the door for him, my brother slips out into the hall to carry his bride to their room.
Sighing, I lean over to collect the remote and turn off the TV. Then I straighten and head toward the hallway and bed. To my surprise, Lance is waiting there for me. And without a word, he falls into step with me as I head down the hall.
The silence between us feels oddly tense. Awkward even. Not something I’m used to because Lance has always been quiet. It’s probably just me, and the fact that my feelings for him have gone completely haywire over the past week. I silently berate myself for allowing all the childish fantasies I’ve had about him over the years.
It’s so much easier to indulge in a crush when that person isn’t around twenty-four seven, reminding you that you’re the only one who wants more than friendship.
“Did you like the movie?” I ask when I can’t stand the tension any longer. Is it just me, or is my voice a higher pitch than usual? I swallow hard, trying to force the tightness in my chest to release.
Lance shrugs and glances down at me. “Did you?”
Seeing as I don’t even know what it was about, I have absolutely no clue. And now I wish I hadn’t said anything. “Yeah. Sure. It was…great.”
We fall into silence once again, and as my bedroom door comes into view, I experience the worst blend of relief and disappointment. I pause outside of it, my hand on the knob as I turn to Lance. He pauses, turning toward me, and for the briefest moment, I wonder if he might be thinking about kissing me.
What is wrong with you, Quinn? Of course he’s not.
“Good night,” Lance says, his deep baritone vibrating through my body and lighting my nerve endings up like a Christmas tree.
And suddenly, my crush on Lance is so completely overwhelming, it takes all my self-restraint not to step into his arms and make the first move myself.
“Good night,” I squeak, and with stiff limbs, I force myself to turn and enter my bedroom.
Closing the door behind me, I lean my back against the solid wood and listen until I hear his door across the hall close as well. Then, swallowing hard, I head to my bathroom to get ready for bed.
But as I settle into my pillows a short time later, pulling the covers up to my chin, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to watch a movie curled against Lance’s shoulder, to have him carry me like a bride up the stairs. To have him take me to his room and share a bed with me.
The overwhelming sense of longing, the massive hole that punches through my chest at the vivid fairy tale is just too much. I never should have let Lance be my bodyguard. Having him present constantly is probably the worst thing for me because I have absolutely no control over my feelings for him. And I’m at a loss for what to do about it.
I can’t just will them away.
And I sure as hell can’t tell anyone about them.
Groaning in frustration, I roll onto my side, curling into a ball. And as I close my eyes, I know it’s going to be another night of tossing and turning.
Because as soon as my thoughts of Lance finally subside and I drift into oblivion, those cruel brown eyes are waiting for me with a wicked smile.