Chapter 13
P erhaps she went too far when she called him a bitch? Dylan thought, struggling not to panic when Quinn shoved a hatchet into the oversized backpack by his feet before he looked up and met her panicked gaze through the windshield and-
“Oh, God…”
-followed that up by grabbing a small shovel.
Trying not to panic, and admittedly failing knowing that she’d finally pushed the man that she’d been tormenting for her own entertainment for the past twenty-five years too far, Dylan released a shaky breath as she slowly reached over and-
Damn child safety locks!
Okay, it was definitely time to panic, Dylan decided as she watched Quinn grab another bag and made his way back to the truck, keeping his glare locked on her the entire time.
When he walked past her, she turned her head to watch him, noting the way that his eyes narrowed on her as he dropped the bags in the back before he made his way around the truck.
This was it.
It was go time, Dylan decided as she took a deep breath and-
Forgot that she was wearing a seatbelt!
Quinn didn’t say anything as he climbed into the truck, which, at the moment, was a little unnerving. Trying not to think about what was about to happen, Dylan slowly exhaled and-
“Why didn’t you come to me when you needed help?” Quinn asked, taking her by surprise.
“I did come to you when I needed help. Do you not remember my offer to make you the happiest man alive?” Dylan asked the incredibly handsome man who seemed to have forgotten her generous offer to take one for the team.
“You should have come to me when Brooke decided to blackmail you,” Quinn said as he threw the truck into reverse and backed out of the driveway while Dylan sat there, unable to help but wonder what the hell he was drinking.
“So that you could snitch on me?” Dylan asked, blinking as she watched him frown in confusion.
“Why the hell would you think that I would snitch on you?” Quinn demanded, looking really offended for someone who loved to snitch.
“Because you’re a snitch?” she asked, unable to help but wonder why they were having this conversation.
“I’m not a snitch,” Quinn bit out, looking adorably pissed, which, of course, meant that she had to keep going, mostly because she just couldn’t help herself.
“If we were in prison, you’d be the snitch, leaving me with no choice but to prove my worth to Big Bertha and take you out when the guards weren’t looking,” Dylan explained, only to add, “I’m not risking losing Big Bertha. Not after she’s been good to me.”
“You really are a pain in the ass,” Quinn muttered as he started heading towards the back roads.
“And yet, Big Bertha was willing to trade ten cigarettes for me,” Dylan said with a firm nod. “Because I’m worth it.”
“First of all, if anyone was going to be the prison snitch, it would be you,” Quinn said, making her gasp in outrage.
“You son of a bitch…”
“Secondly, word is Big Bertha’s not happy and looking to make a trade,” Quinn said, shooting her a pitying look.
“I’m her reason for existing,” Dylan pointed out, wondering why he would say such a thing.
“If that’s what helps you sleep at night…” Quinn said, letting his words trail off.
Nodding, Dylan said, “I’m shanking you with a toothbrush the first chance I get.”
“Are you going to tell me why you think I’d snitch on you?” Quinn asked, ignoring her murderous glare.
“Because that’s what you live for?” Dylan said, still not understanding why he was having a difficult time accepting this.
“When the hell have I ever snitched on you?” Quinn demanded.
“How about that time when I tried to surprise everyone by making Thanksgiving dinner?” Dylan said, still wondering when he was going to apologize for ruining what promised to be a rather delicious dinner.
“You were five and you tried cooking the turkey in the fucking microwave.” Quinn bit out with a glare that let her know that the unappreciative bastard didn’t regret selling her out.
“Because I wasn’t supposed to touch the oven,” Dylan pointed out with a glare of her own. “What about the time when I tried opening a lemonade stand?”
“You used salt instead of sugar and tried charging twenty bucks for a cup of water,” Quinn said, making her eyes narrow.
“It’s called supply and demand, you tattletaling bastard!”
“It’s called being a little psycho!”
“And my first driving lesson?” Dylan demanded, knowing that he wouldn’t have a good excuse for telling on her for that one.
“You highjacked a golf cart when you were ten and drove it into a fucking lake,” the man, who clearly looked for any reason to rat on her ass, said.
“It was a shortcut,” she pointed out. “It would have cut five minutes off my commute to school.”
“God, you really are a pain in the ass,” Quinn said, shaking his head in disgust.
“You knew this when you married me,” Dylan said, not appreciating the heavy sigh the large bastard released as though being married to her was somehow a punishment.
She was a catch, goddamnit!
“Are you going to tell me why you didn’t come to me for help?” Quinn asked, throwing her a curious look as he turned onto the highway.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re kidnapping me?” Dylan countered, earning another one of those heavy sighs that she really didn’t appreciate.
“Last night was a disaster,” he said, instead of answering her question.
“That’s an understatement,” Dylan said, still wondering what she did to piss him off this morning. Besides humming “It’s a Small World” to herself simply because she knew that it would piss him off, mostly because she just couldn’t help herself.
“You’re not comfortable with me,” Quinn said, making her frown.
“I’ve known you for twenty-five years,” Dylan pointed out.
“And yet, the thought of me touching you was enough to drive you to drink,” he drawled, making her wince.
“I may have overestimated my ability to follow through with making you the happiest man alive,” Dylan admitted, which was an understatement.
She hadn’t had sex in five years and the thought of finally having sex with someone she’d known since she was a baby wasn’t exactly helping, but add to the fact that it was with the man that told her that she ruined his life…
That and the fact that it was Quinn. It didn’t matter that she was over him, had been for a long time, it was just…
She just needed some time to get used to the idea, which was going to be a problem because they made a deal, one that she had absolutely no plans of backing out of.
“Which is understandable since we’re not exactly friends,” he said as she opened her mouth to argue with him, but…
He was right.
She’d tormented him for her own entertainment and he’d watched over her, but they weren’t exactly friends.
They grew up together, but they were three and a half years apart, which meant that he’d tolerated her.
When she started working at B.T. Construction, he barely acknowledged her and that hadn’t changed much over the years.
They saw each other at family dinners, barbecues, and holidays, but other than glare at her when she pissed him off, which was often, they weren’t really close.
“And you want to change that?” Dylan guessed.
“Considering that we’re trying to bring a baby into this world, I think it would be a good idea,” Quinn said, and she couldn’t really argue with that.
“Fair enough,” Dylan said, slowly exhaling as she glanced out the window and watched as the signs announcing that they were twenty miles away from the New Hampshire border flew by. “What’s the plan?”
“We spend the next few days camping, getting to know each other and figuring out if this is even possible,” Quinn said, taking her by surprise, mostly because he refused to go camping with her after an unfortunate incident involving poison ivy when she was ten.
“And if this doesn’t work?” Dylan asked after a slight hesitation even as she told herself that she could do this.
“Then, we keep trying and if nothing changes, then we accept the loss and get an annulment,” Quinn said, making her stomach drop.
“And our deal?” she asked, forcing the words out of her mouth because she had to know.
“We’ll finish Blackwood Manor mostly to piss Brooke off,” Quinn said, making her lips twitch.
“What about B.T. Construction?” Dylan asked after a slight hesitation.
“I’ll find another way.”