“Which time?”
She harrumphed. “The time you promised you were telling me how to end my culture speech with a fact about South American soccer, and instead I said our teacher smoked pot and smelled like blue cheese. I got an F and a trip to the principal’s office, and you didn’t say a word.”
“Oh, I said lots of words. You just didn’t understand them because they were in Spanish.”
The pea bag crinkled as she covered the bump again. “You actually did me a favor. My humiliation was so great I switched to sign language, and ended up much happier.”
“See? Who said I never did anything for you?”
“Oliver said he was going to smear blue cheese in your shoes to get you back. Did he?”
In truth? No. In truth, Oliver never said anything bad to or about Lyric, but he never followed through on his promises, either. The hope on Lyric’s face, though, crushed the honest answer on his tongue.
“He did. My feet stank for days, and I had to throw my shoes out.”
She laughed. “Good.”
For a few agonizing seconds, she stared at him. He looked his fill, too, remembering everything they’d done to each other. Her tan complexion glowed with a hint of pink. Her full lips puckered in concentration. He hoped like hell the most prominent memory she had was of the two of them in bed. It certainly replayed in his mind on a weekly basis. At that very moment, he pictured her with perfect clarity, lying underneath him, her eyes ablaze with passion.
“I miss him,” she whispered, breaking into his thoughts.
“Me too.”
And just like that, Oliver had come between them once more.
Chapter Two
Lyric sat on a stool in her parents’ kitchen and picked at the hot-out-of-the-oven pumpkin spice muffin her mother had just dumped out of a tin. The mere thought of eating made her stomach clench.
“What’s wrong with you?” her mom asked, eyebrows furrowed from across the kitchen. “Did you get a concussion, too? Are you nauseous? Dizzy? Maybe I should run you to the doctor? You never take this long to eat a muffin.”
“I’m fine, Mom. It’s just a little bump.”
“Which corner did you run into? Maybe we should have a contractor come in and round out all the wall edges. The guest house hasn’t been updated in ages.”
“The guest house doesn’t need any work. I just need to watch where I’m going.” And stay the hell out of Quinn’s house. She added another mental checkmark to the reasons he bothered her: fibbing to her mother. If she’d told the truth about her accident and mentioned Quinn, no doubt he’d be invited to join them for the New Year. The thought sucked every happy holiday cell out of her.
“Viv called me this morning. She and William are in Michigan. His brother isn’t doing well, and they rushed to see him. Hospice was called in. It’s just awful, and they won’t make it for the New Year’s Eve party.” Her mom wiped her hands down her Music and Muffins Soothe the Soul apron.
“That’s terrible.” A piece of Lyric’s heart broke. Quinn had come home for them, and now he wouldn’t see them at all. She didn’t fool herself into thinking Teddy might offer some comfort.
“I know. I wish there was something I could do from here. And it definitely puts a damper on the party, but Viv still wants us to celebrate. And on that note, do you think you could be in charge of the party games now?”
“Mom, I don’t have time—”
“Cowabunga!” shouted her seven-year-old nephew, Joey. He left his cousin Troy’s side and launched himself into Lyric’s lap, nearly knocking her over. The little guy packed a wallop. “Guess what, Aunt Ric? Last night we made s’mores in the fireplace!”
“I ate three,” Troy said, lifting three fingers on his six-year-old hand and climbing onto the bar stool next to her.
Lola, five and fiercely competitive, and Emma, ten and bossy, followed close behind. They wore matching reindeer jammies. “Grandma let me hand out the chocolate,” Emma said. “Since I’m the oldest.”
“I stuffed five marshmallows into my mouth at once,” Lola added.
Lyric smiled at her nieces and nephews. Every year since her brothers and sister had moved away and started their own families, they came home for a week. From Christmas to New Year’s Day, the whole family hung out and all the kids camped in the living room. She looked past the girls, searching for two more little faces.
Hank Jr., the oldest boy and the most serious of the bunch, entered the kitchen holding hands with the youngest of the group, Max. When Max met her eyes, his tiny mouth lifted into a smile that melted her heart.
He ran to her. She scooped him up with one arm and smothered him with kisses.
“What about me?” Joey asked, steadying himself against the counter now that his cousin had invaded his space on Lyric’s lap.
“Mwah, mwah, mwah!” Lyric covered Joey’s little face with kisses.
Both boys giggled and snuggled closer.
As loud and chaotic and tiring as the week was, Lyric was grateful she had a large family to celebrate with. Grateful for the support and unconditional love. She buried her nose in Max’s soft brown hair and squeezed him.
“Who wants chocolate chip pancakes?” her mom asked.
Six enthusiastic “I do’s” sounded.
The back door swung open, and Lyric’s brother Hank strode in. His shirt stuck to his body, and sweat trickled down the sides of his face.
“How was your run?” Lyric had tried jogging with her brother once. It had lasted about twelve minutes before her lungs stopped cooperating and she insisted her brother get the car to pick her up. Yoga was much more her speed.
“Great. It’s cold, but all blue sky this morning.” He ruffled everyone’s hair—including Lyric’s. “You’ll never guess who I ran into this morning.” He pulled a bottle of water out of the refrigerator.
“You mean there are other fools outside this early in the morning?” Lyric asked.
“What the hell happened to your eye?” His eyebrows furrowed.
“Put a quarter in the swear jar, Dad,” Hank Jr. said.
“She walked into a wall.” Mom flipped a pancake several inches above the pan. Lola and Troy clapped their hands.
“So, who did you run into?” Lyric asked, veering the subject away from her accident. Keeping one secret was all she could handle.
“Quinn Sobel,” Hank said.
A hard shot of panic loosened her grip, and Joey slipped out of her arms. He fell to the floor.
“Ow,” he said, half-heartedly.
“Quinn’s here?” Mom put down her spatula and turned the burner to low on the stove. She put her hands on her hips and looked at Hank. “When did he get here? Where is he staying?”
“He’s next door.”
“What?” Mom’s eyes widened. “I had no idea. I can’t believe Viv didn’t mention it.” She picked up the phone. “I’m inviting him over for breakfast.”
“Wait!” Lyric lifted out of her seat, but held tight to Max. She felt bad enough about dropping Joey. “I’m sure he’s got plans, and if you call him he’ll feel obligated to come over.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re his second family.” Mom fell back against the counter. Her eyes drifted shut. Lyric had a feeling her mother was thinking about Oliver and the funeral, and how Quinn had just left. It was all she could think about since seeing him last night.
After a few seconds, her mom took a deep breath and started dialing.
“Mom, stop.” Lyric put Max down. He joined the rest of his cousins at the oversized maple kitchen table. Paper and crayons kept the kids busy. “I’ll take him over some muffins.”
Quinn could not come over. Not this morning. Not ever. For almost four years, Lyric had kept things together and followed her plan. It couldn’t fall apart now. She wouldn’t let it. Too much was at stake. I
f her family ever found out the truth, they’d never forgive her.
Dad and Ella walked into the kitchen. Lyric’s big sister looked happier than she’d been in a long time. She and her husband Zane had almost split up, but they’d worked through their issues and now seemed stronger than ever.
“Mommy, Emma won’t give me the green crayon,” Troy whined.
“There’s more than one green crayon,” Ella said, squeezing Lyric’s shoulders before making her way to the coffee pot.
In less than five minutes, the rest of the family would raid the kitchen. No one missed Mom’s cooking, and the kids’ voices grew louder now that they’d had a chance to wake up. Lyric had to get over to Quinn’s before the rest of the family showed up to outvote her, and Quinn ended up back in the family fold.
She grabbed a few muffins and shoved them into a brown bag.
“I’ll be back in a few,” she said, ducking out before anyone could protest. She swung by the guesthouse to change from her pajamas into jeans and the new brown, wrap-around sweater Ella had given her for Christmas. A few swipes of mascara, a brush through her shoulder-length hair, and she’d be good to go.
Not that she was primping for Quinn. She had two CARE appointments this morning and a movie date with the cutest boys on the planet this afternoon. Those were also the reasons why she brushed her teeth and rubbed plumeria lotion up and down her arms and legs. She needed to be ready for the day, not just her muffin delivery.
She headed outside and discovered Hank was right. There wasn’t a cloud in sight as she walked to Quinn’s. The trees were deep green; smoke billowed out from the neighbor’s chimney across the street. Puddles littered the ground, and water drops clung to blades of grass. Usually the cool, crisp December air filled Lyric with peace, but not this morning. Today the quiet and stillness put her on edge.
She had to think of a way to get rid of Quinn. If he stayed through the New Year, no doubt her mother would include him in every activity. Not to mention invite him to the New Year’s Eve party. Lyric would rather jump into the freezing San Francisco Bay than let that happen.
Crap. The brown bag looked like it had been left in a school locker for a week, wrinkled and soggy from her palms. She ran one hand, then the other, down her pant leg before knocking on his door.
Why did Quinn have to come back?
…
“Muffins from my mom.” Lyric thrust a brown bag at his stomach.
She stood outside his front door again, and even though she was dry this time, she still wore last night’s scowl. It probably shouldn’t turn him on so much, but he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head since she’d shoved the bag of peas at his chest and stalked away. He’d offered to walk her home. She’d refused.
Her fiery temperament was one of the things he’d always liked about her.
He opened the bag and took a peek. “Pumpkin spice?”
“Yep.”
“Thank you.”
“You flying back to New York today? Or maybe to Michigan to see your uncle? I hear your parents won’t be back right away.”
“I don’t know. How’s the eye?”
She absently ran a finger over the small bruise and bump. “It’s fine. So, you don’t know? I mean now that you don’t have to stay for your parents, I thought you’d be on the first plane out of here. Spend New Year’s Eve with a girlfriend or something.”
“Don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Hmm.” She pursed her lips. Her gaze left his and landed somewhere over his shoulder.
“Hmm what?” He’d known Lyric almost his entire life. He could tell when she was being shifty, and she was being shifty right now. Was she curious about his love life?
“Nothing.” Still she didn’t look at him.
“It didn’t sound like nothing.”
Finally her eyes settled back on his. “Your mom mentioned someone named Francesca, that’s all.”
Francesca. They’d dated for almost a year. She’d wanted forever, but he hadn’t been able to do it. Something had held him back.
“That’s been over for a while.”
“Oh.”
While she stared at him, the distance between them dwindled. Did he move? Did she? He wasn’t sure. But they stood too close. She blew a wisp of hair away from her mouth and his gaze moved there. In a heartbeat, he’d be lost to her all over again. Four years away had done nothing to extinguish his desire. His thumb involuntarily brushed across her bottom lip.
She startled at his touch.
“Muffin crumb,” he said. “So what about you? Boyfriend?” He held his breath.
She blinked several times. The closeness he’d felt just a moment before turned into an ocean of distance when she stepped away. “No. So about your departure.” She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “You should definitely hop on a plane today. I know how much your mom misses you, and she’d love to have you with her. Especially during this difficult time. There’s nothing keeping you here, so go.”
You’re keeping me here. The thought unnerved him. His eyes traced her mouth again. Her words dismissed him, but hell if her full lips didn’t scream for him to stay.
Her eyes dipped to his mouth. “Quinn,” she said breathlessly. “I think you should go.”
“It’s not up to you.”
“I know that.” The sultry softness of her answer rattled him.
Teddy ran up behind him, barking and wagging his tail. Some watchdog he was. The doorbell had sounded, Quinn had been standing there for five minutes, and now Teddy made an appearance.
“Hey, you.” Lyric bent down and scratched Teddy behind the ears.
The dog licked her, his whole body shaking. An odd twinge of jealousy pricked at Quinn. “Want to come in?” He really had no idea where the invitation came from, except that seeing Lyric for only a few minutes wasn’t long enough. Besides, if he was going to head back to New York, he had a few things to say to her first.
“No.”
Her answer, spoken into Teddy’s fur, was not the one he wanted to hear. He wrapped his hands around her upper arms and pulled her up. The soft cotton of her sweater felt better than anything he’d touched in a long time. She didn’t fight his hold, and that woke up all sorts of emotions—gratitude, contentment, hope. When she nibbled her bottom lip, a strong desire to kiss her overwhelmed him.
“You have to,” he said.
Her breathtaking blue eyes lit up with fury. She was, without a doubt, the most thrilling woman he’d ever known. “I don’t have to do anything.”
“I know. Shit.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean it like that. When I spoke with my mom this morning, she said she had a list she wanted me to give your mom. It’s in the kitchen. Come on. I’ll get it for you.”
“Oh,” she said, pulling away from him with an odd note in her voice—something like relief, colored by hurt. “Great idea.” She hurried past him and practically beat him to the kitchen. “There’s no reason for you to have to give it to her.”
He moved aside the snowman paperweight, lifted the piece of paper off the counter, and handed it to Lyric. He had no idea what the list meant, but she rolled her eyes as she read it. “Your mom is going to owe me when she gets back.”
“What do you mean?” He inched his way closer, careful so she wouldn’t notice and lean away. She smelled fantastic. Still wore plumeria lotion. Quinn had no idea what plumeria was. He only remembered her telling Oliver that’s what she used when he’d asked why she smelled so good. She’d blushed, and once again Oliver had her right where he’d wanted her. Close, but not too close.
“Have you forgotten about the big Whetstone New Year’s Eve bashes?” she asked.
“No.” Every year, Lyric’s parents threw a themed party for the entire neighborhood, going all out with food and decorations.
�
��Your mom was supposed to help with the games, but now that she won’t be here, I get the honor.” Lyric’s shoulders slumped. She dropped her head.
Quinn lifted her chin. “I could—”
She stumbled back, her eyes wide. “What are you doing?”
He lifted his hands. “I was just going to offer to help.”
“Please don’t be nice to me.”
“Why not?” He didn’t want to be the same asshole he’d been to her in the past. Although awful, maybe his parents’ trip was a blessing in disguise. Maybe he was supposed to stay and help with the party. Get to know Lyric again.
Without Oliver in the way.
His gut clenched. He’d give anything to have his brother back. Guilt ate at him on a daily basis. They’d argued about who would drive home from the party that night, and as usual, Oliver had gotten his way. When the car had slammed into the driver’s side door, all Quinn could think about was it should have been me.
“Because I don’t like you being nice to me,” Lyric snapped. “I don’t know how to handle you when you’re nice to me.”
“You handled me—”
“Don’t say it. Don’t think it. Don’t remember it. Please.” She looked away before folding the note into some origami square.
She’d never been nervous with him in the past. Never. But she obviously was now. The thought that their night together might have left as big an impact on her as it had on him cracked the hurtful shell he wore around her.
He wished he hadn’t stupidly left without a word. But he hadn’t seen a reason to stay. She was in med school. He had a job offer in New York. Bigger than those obstacles, though, was his shame over Oliver’s death. He’d taken the coward’s way out.
The house phone rang, interrupting his musings. He dragged his attention away from Lyric and picked it up. “Hello?”
Lyric waved goodbye.
Quinn cupped the receiver with his palm. “Hang on a minute?”
She shook her head and turned to leave.
“Quinn, sweetie! Are you talking to me?” Lyric’s mom said. “It’s Caroline. How are you?”
“Hi, Caroline. I’m well, thanks. And you?” Lyric’s mom’s enthusiastic voice made him smile. She and Douglas had always treated him and Oliver as part of the family.
Yours at Midnight Page 2
