Chapter 8
It had been a while since I cooked myself dinner. Even longer since I’d cooked for a woman. Not that Quinn was a woman. Not like that. This wasn’t a date.
I couldn’t believe I had to remind myself this wasn’t a date.
Quinn was my closest friend’s little sister. And she”d just been attacked, for fuck”s sake. She was a client. A patient, I added, thinking of her ankle. Not a woman.
Steak sizzled in the cast-iron pan, the cabin fragrant with caramelizing onions and mushrooms sautéed in butter. My stomach growled. I was no cordon bleu chef like Finn, but I could handle steak in a cast-iron pan, and Quinn was probably as hungry as I was. Hungrier, even, given the adrenaline surge she was coming down from. I knew what that was like.
I’d been attacked, and I’d been the attacker, and I knew being attacked was far worse. At least when you were the person doing the attacking you knew what to expect, knew when the hits would come. Quinn had been out for a hike on a pretty winter day, and boom. Some asshole had come out of nowhere and taken her down. I had to force myself to stop thinking about it, or the picture in my head would drive me crazy. Who the fuck had dared to touch her?
Giving in to the urge, I glanced over my shoulder at the slight figure bundled up on the couch, her injured ankle elevated, the wool blanket pulled up to her shoulders, her eyes fixed on the flickering firelight in the woodstove.
She looked at peace. Relaxed. Happy to be in the cabin, despite the circumstances. I didn”t know what to make of a woman whose fondest dream was a vacation in an off-the-grid cabin. Alone. I couldn’t fault her taste. This little place was as close to heaven as we came on earth. We were surrounded by some of the most beautiful forests I”d seen, with all the creature comforts I’d want and nothing I didn”t.
She”d come here for solitude. Instead, she got attacked, injured, and now she was stuck with me.
I couldn’t give her what she wanted. I couldn’t leave her to her solitude. Not just because of the weather. Whoever had jumped her was still out there, potentially plotting their next chance to get at her. Not knowing their motive made me uneasy. More than just uneasy. Fucking scared shitless.
You didn’t stalk someone with zip ties when you planned to return them in one piece. And this was Quinn. She needed me to watch over her, as much as she thought she didn”t. Quinn Sawyer might be a pint-sized badass, but whoever wanted to hurt her would come back. I was sure of it.
Even as that dark thought swirled, I was glad I had my back to her so I could hide my grin as I remembered the way she”d hauled her ass up the side of that ravine, digging her fingers into the damp earth, ignoring the cold, the pain in her ankle, just doing what had to be done. I didn’t know why I found that hot, but I did.
And that was the reason I shouldn’t be here. Not just that I was interrupting her solitude and her vacation. I needed to get the hell out of here because when it came to Quinn Sawyer, I couldn’t keep my head in the game. She destroyed my focus, and I couldn’t seem to remember that she was Griffen”s baby sister. She was a Sawyer, and I was very much not.
Quinn was not for me. I wasn’t sure any woman was. All the shit I”d done, the blood on my hands, the ugliness that lived in my head— I couldn’t picture a woman who deserved to be saddled with me.
But if there was, it wasn’t Quinn. She deserved so much better than an ex-soldier steeped in darkness. In regret. She deserved a man who came to her clean, who could give her a family and children. None of that was me.
The fact that I wanted her didn”t matter. It was wrong. It was all fucking wrong. And still, I wanted her. What I should be doing was leaving. But not only was that impossible because of the weather, she needed me to keep her safe.
To distract myself, I turned the steaks, my mouth watering at the crust on the done side. We were warm, dry, and we were going to have a hell of a dinner. Pretty good, given the state of things when we got here.
From the couch, I heard, “That smells fantastic. I swear I could eat a horse.”
“I bet,” I said. “Not the easy hike you were expecting.”
“Yeah, that”s the understatement of the century,” Quinn said, then lapsed back into silence.
And I remembered. I shouldn’t. But I did.
Inching down her wet clothes, my cheek against her hip, her skin like silk. She’d been cold as ice but so soft, smelling of snow and woman. It had taken everything I had not to look. Not to touch. Not to turn my head and bury my face between her legs. I never would have thought one small woman could push me so close to the edge of my control without even trying. But no woman had been Quinn.
I”d never been one for taking what wasn’t mine, and Quinn was not mine. She wasn’t, and she never would be.
“This is almost done,” I said, trying to shake myself out of my circling thoughts.
“There are plates on the shelf to the left of the sink,” Quinn said, “and silverware in the holder beside it. I don”t have steak knives, but we can use the one you cut the onion with.”
I nodded. “Drinks?”
Quinn sat up a little. I hated her wince as she moved her ankle, hated her being in pain.
“I’ll stick with water for now. After dinner, I think I’ll have some of that bourbon I found stashed in a cupboard when I cleaned the place up.”
“Good stuff?” I asked.
“Very good,” she said. “I didn”t agree with my father on much, but he had good taste in bourbon.”
“I don”t know many women who drink bourbon,” I said as I plated the steak, piling onions and mushrooms on the side of each one and carrying them to the table.
Quinn pushed off the wool blanket and levered herself to sit on the edge of the couch, lowering her feet carefully to the floor. “I never used to like it,” she said. “I always stuck to mixed drinks or beer. But a few years ago, a friend dragged me to a bourbon tasting, and I was surprised to find I love it.”
I had a sudden flash of Quinn sitting in front of the fire, sipping bourbon, my arm around her. I blinked it away. Not for me. Never for me.
I snagged her water bottle off the floor and set it on the table beside her plate before coming back to her side. “Are you ready?” I asked. She nodded, and I leaned down, sliding an arm around her torso.
I tried not to think about how she felt in my arms.
“Three, two, one,” I counted. On one we stood, Quinn leaning her weight into me. Together we made our way to the table, me walking and Quinn hopping.
“It should be a lot better tomorrow,” she said as she lowered into her chair, letting me push it in. I came around to her right side, pulling out another chair.
“Rest it on this,” I said, leaning down to lift her foot to the seat of the chair. “Okay?”
Quinn nodded through gritted teeth. By the time I was in my seat, she had her breath back.
As I sat, she smiled that bright smile that always got to me. There was something so alive about Quinn. Her blue eyes, the way she”d grin, vitality spilling out of her. She was a flame, her warmth drawing me in, pulling me closer and closer until I lost myself in her fire and ended up burned to a cinder.
Or I burned her. Badly. Because that was what would happen. I knew it, even if she didn’t.
“It”ll be a lot better tomorrow,” she repeated. Picking up one of the knives I’d found in the kitchen, she cut into the steak. She stabbed a piece on her fork and held it up, declaring, “Perfect.”
It looked perfect, pink in the center, tender and juicy. I took a bite and chewed. Pretty fucking good and exactly what I needed after the past few hours. Quinn finished chewing and swallowed, then flashed another bright grin my way.
“How do you know it’ll be better tomorrow?” I asked, thinking I should keep my eyes on my plate and off her face.
“I’ve sprained it before,” she said. “Always the fucking right ankle too.”
“Is it weak?” I asked, knowing that repeated strains could leave the ligaments prone to future injury.
Quinn shrugged. “Not really. Not so I notice it, but it always seems to be the one I come down on wrong when shit happens. Usually, it doesn”t take long to get back into shape.” Her smile faded away, eyes dropping to her plate. “It”s not going to heal in time for me to do any real hiking while I”m here. Even resting it while the snow lasts won’t be good enough. I’ll be able to hobble soon, but not much more than that.”
“Not if you want it to heal right,” I added.
She nodded in agreement and let out a sigh. “I wish I’d shot him before he got my gun away from me.”
“For trying to kidnap you or for ruining your vacation?” I asked, and there was that grin again. It shot straight to my heart. That smile was the best reward for cracking a joke. Not everybody got my sense of humor, but Quinn did.
“Both,” she answered. “But at this point, maybe more for ruining my vacation.”
“The snow isn”t helping,” I said.
Quinn shrugged. “Yeah, but once it stops snowing, and the sun comes out, it’ll be beautiful out there, like a sparkling fairyland. So I can forgive the snow. The asshole who jumped me, tried to kidnap me and made me fuck up my ankle—he can rot in hell.”
“Maybe we”ll get the chance to put him there,” I said. I immediately regretted my words when Quinn paled.
“You think he”s going to try again?”
Without a doubt, I thought. Out loud, I said, “At this point, we don”t know. We don”t know why he was here, what he wanted, or why he went after you.”
“The necklace—” Quinn started to say, and I shook my head.
“It could be about the necklace, or it could be something else. We don”t know enough to make assumptions. Assumptions won’t keep you safe. As soon as this snow ends and we have visibility, we”re headed back.”
And there it was. Mutiny.