by Linda Seed
“You’re a scream.” Delilah’s delivery dripped with sarcasm.
“Since you didn’t tell him any of those things,” Roxanne went on, “nor did you even suggest any of those things, I’m going to assume he went into it with his eyes open. He can make his own decisions. He’s a grown man.”
“You can say that again.”
“Oh ho! Now we’re getting into it. Give me the details, Delilah. I need to live vicariously through you. It’s been years since Joey and I got it on.”
“Years? Oh, my God. I had no idea.”
“Well, it’s been a week. But it feels like years. Don’t change the subject. Come on. Details.”
Delilah told her sister what happened: how she’d worked up a head of steam over the things she imagined Quinn thought of her, how she’d gone over there prepared to tell him off, and how he’d grabbed her and kissed her senseless. And then had done things to her she’d previously only read about in the sex articles in Cosmo.
“He picked you up? He literally picked you up?” That, for some reason, was the detail Roxanne had chosen to fixate on.
“He just lifted me up like I weighed nothing. He was like a … a caveman or something.”
“But better smelling, I hope,” Roxanne said.
The thought of Quinn’s smell sent Delilah into a reverie so deep and engaging that she momentarily forgot she was in the middle of a conversation.
“Delilah? Are you still there? Hey, focus!”
“I … I’m here.”
“Look,” Roxanne said. “I know you’re worried about all of this and what it means, but you don’t need to be. Just have fun. Just see where it goes.”
Where it might go—that’s what was worrying Delilah. She hadn’t thought much about where things might go when she’d started dating Mitch, and look how that had worked out. Marrying him had been like sticking her leg in a bear trap.
If she let things with Quinn get out of control, next thing she knew she might be pondering the option of gnawing off her own foot just to get free.
In the wake of his encounter with Delilah, Quinn didn’t feel the way he was supposed to feel.
In his experience, hooking up with a woman left him relaxed, happy, and carefree. But this particular hookup had him thinking about what came next, and that was decidedly unsettling.
He wasn’t used to thinking about what came next. And he wasn’t used to worrying about what that would be.
Quinn wasn’t the kind of guy who rejected a woman after he slept with her just because the thrill of the conquest was over. He hated those guys.
But usually, after he’d been with someone, he didn’t think about whether to call her, or when, or what to say when he did. If he wanted to call, he called. If he didn’t want to, he didn’t. He never gave anyone any false impressions about where things might lead, so it was okay.
It was simple, mostly because he didn’t play games, and he didn’t lie to anyone.
Except he’d lied to Delilah, hadn’t he? When he’d said he was okay with being used—with being treated like an object—that wasn’t true. It had felt true at the time, but now? Now he wanted her to see him as a person.
And not just any person, come to that. He wanted to be the person.
When the hell had that happened? When had he gone from casually flirting and thinking about an attractive woman to wanting a prominent place in her life?
It was stupid, that’s what it was.
After spending the night tossing and turning, thinking about Delilah, Quinn decided he needed to get away—mostly so he wouldn’t go over to her place and make a fool of himself.
So the day after they’d been together, he packed up the van with some winter clothes and snow boots, tire chains, and a cooler full of drinks and snacks, and he headed out to Kings Canyon National Park.
The park was a three-hour drive from Cambria, but he figured the time on the road would do him some good and help him clear his head. Plus, something about being among the giant redwoods made him feel small and vulnerable, but in a good way—as though his own problems were insignificant and therefore not worthy of his own anxious worry.
He got on the road a little after nine a.m., grabbed some lunch in Visalia, then rolled into the park by early afternoon.
He’d prepared for snow, because you never knew, but there wasn’t much this early in the season. He opted for his hiking boots instead of the snow boots, put on a warm jacket against the late fall chill, slipped a bottle of water and a protein bar into his pocket, and set out to do a brisk five miles on the Cedar Grove Overlook Trail.
For a while, out there among the trees and the boulders, with the crunch of the earth underneath his feet and the bright blue sky spread out above him, he felt great. He stopped feeling the cold as a light sweat formed on his skin from good, solid exertion. His muscles were loose and his movements easy as he made his way along the trail, accompanied only by the occasional wildlife scampering around at the edge of his vision.
But then, something horrifying happened.
He realized he had no cell coverage out here and wouldn’t know if Delilah tried to call him.
What was he, in high school? Since when had he obsessed over whether a girl was going to call him? Hell, he hadn’t done that even when he was in high school.
Traditionally, the man was the one to call the woman. But that didn’t really apply here, since Delilah had made it clear she was using him for his body. If he called, he would seem like some needy asshole who couldn’t handle that kind of arrangement—even though he’d assured her he could.
If anyone called, it should be her. In a perfect world, she would call him and tell him she’d realized she wanted more than what she’d said. That their time together had meant more than she’d said it did.
Of course, this was far from a perfect world.
In this world, this real world, he might have to make it happen, if that was what he wanted. He might have to convince her to let him into her life. Which would mean he had to call her instead of waiting around for her to decide she wanted him.
Only he couldn’t call her, because he was out here in the goddamned wilderness.
If she did call and he didn’t answer, would that solidify her thought that he wasn’t worth the effort? Or would it work for him in a playing-hard-to-get kind of way?
Okay, it was official: he was losing his mind.
People always said women could do that to you, but somehow, he’d gotten this far in life without it happening.
Until now.
Shut it down, Quinn. Just shut it down.
He needed to be in the moment, enjoy his hike, and stop thinking. And that’s what he did for another mile or so, until he saw a man and a couple of kids on the trail up ahead of him. The kids were two boys, maybe ten and twelve years old, and from back here, they looked a lot like how Gavin and Jesse would look when they got to that age.
Gavin and Jesse. If they were here, he’d show them all of the great stuff in the park—the General Sherman tree, Crystal Cave, and the tunnel log you could drive through.
They’d love that.
It occurred to him that thinking wistfully about Delilah’s kids was an even bigger warning sign than thinking about Delilah herself.
He finished the hike, got checked into an RV parking spot with power and water hookups, lay back on his bed for a nap—and then thought, fuck it.
Whether she called him or he called her, somebody was calling somebody, by God.
He unhooked the van, drove out of the park, and headed back toward civilization where he could get some damned cell phone service.
Chapter 17
Delilah got a call from Quinn the afternoon following the unintended sex. And that was how she thought of it: the unintended sex. That way, it seemed more like an accident—as though she’d tripped, maybe, and fell on him—instead of a calculated thing she’d done to screw up her life.
She hadn’t expected him to call, and she certainly had
n’t intended to call him. After all, they’d made it clear that it was just physical release, nothing more. You didn’t expect follow-up calls for something like that.
That was why she was surprised when her cell phone rang and the readout on the screen said his name.
She was in Jesse’s room picking up dirty clothes from the floor and piling them into a laundry hamper when it happened.
She clicked on the button to accept the call, took a moment to collect herself, and answered.
“Hi, Quinn.”
“Hi? That’s all you have to say to me? Just, hi?”
She blinked once in surprise. “Was there something else I should have said?”
“No. Of course not. You shouldn’t have said anything, because we shouldn’t even be talking, because you were never going to call me, were you?” He sounded angry. Behind him, she heard voices and the clatter of plates.
“Where are you?”
“Does that matter?”
“I guess not.”
“I’m at a Denny’s in Visalia. Not that you care.”
She shifted the laundry hamper onto her hip. “Why are you at a Denny’s in Visalia?”
“Because I was camping, and there’s no cell service at the park, so I came here to check my phone. Because I thought, foolishly, that maybe you’d called me. But you didn’t, so.”
Confused, Delilah put down the hamper, rubbed her eyes with her free hand, then waved at the air as though her confusion were a cloud of smoke in front of her.
“Back up, Quinn. Walk me through what’s happening, because I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She heard him take a deep breath and let it out. “Ah, shit. I’m losing my mind, that’s what’s happening. I’m acting like a girl.”
“You’re acting like something.”
In the background, she heard a waitress offer him coffee, and Quinn declined. Then he turned his attention back to her.
“We had a … a moment,” he said. “A very good moment. And after two people have that kind of moment, it’s customary for them to talk to each other. Often, on the phone. But I didn’t want to be the one to call, because you told me you were using me for my body, and I told you I was okay with that, and then I didn’t want to suddenly not be okay with that.”
Delilah sat down on the edge of Jesse’s bed. “All right …”
“But it turns out, I’m not okay with it. The sex part, yes. But the part where that’s all you want from me? Not so much.”
Delilah’s heart began to hammer in her chest. “Quinn, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want us to be more than that. More than somebody using somebody. More than sex. I want us to give this thing a chance and see where it goes.”
“Oh.” Something fluttered inside her belly—something that threatened her security, her sense of safety, her very way of life. Something that might be irresistible. “But, tell me again why you’re in a Denny’s in Visalia?”
He sighed. “I wanted to call you, but I then I didn’t want to because of what you’d said about using me. But I also didn’t want to be some needy asshole waiting around for a woman to pay attention to him. So I went camping to get my mind off the whole thing. But it didn’t work, so here I am at a Denny’s in Visalia. I’m here because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Quinn held his breath, waiting for Delilah’s response. Then he realized he was holding his breath and forced himself to let it out.
He hadn’t meant to tell her all of that, but then again, he hadn’t meant to do any of this—he hadn’t meant to call her, and he hadn’t meant to want her like this in the first place.
He hadn’t meant to need her.
None of this was going the way he’d planned.
But now that he’d said what he’d said, he found himself hanging on her answer.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, either,” she said. “But …”
Ah, God. Of course there was a but.
“But what?”
“But it’s complicated.” Her voice was small, as though if she couldn’t hear herself saying these things, then maybe none of it was really happening.
“Of course it’s complicated. Relationships are always complicated. At least, the best ones are.”
Hadn’t he, just days before, promised himself that he would not get involved with a single mother? Hadn’t he assured himself that it was far too much baggage for him to carry? And now here he was, arguing in favor of complications. Funny how much things could change in a day.
“The boys need stability,” she said. “They’ve been through too much for me to bring another man into their lives, just for it to—”
“To what?”
“Just for it to end, Quinn! Because it’s going to end! I have a life in Connecticut, and you have a life here, and even if that weren’t the case, even if I weren’t going to leave in a month, things end! And when they do, it hurts like hell, and I can’t do that again—not to myself, and not to the boys.”
“Who says it’s going to end? Sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it just keeps going.”
He hadn’t planned to say that, and now that it was out of his mouth, he was a little bit appalled. He’d gone from wanting to sleep with her to wanting to date her to suggesting that this might, in fact, be permanent.
All in a span of twenty-four hours.
He was right when he’d told her he was losing his mind.
“Look, why not give it a chance?” he said, summing up his argument. “If it doesn’t work for you, you’ve got an out already built in. You’re going home in a month. If we give it a try and you decide I’m not for you, then you just stick with the plan and flee as soon as your rental period at Otter Bluff is up. But if it does work, if you decide it’s worth more time …” He left it hanging, just left it out there for her to mentally fill in the blanks.
“Quinn …”
“I’m just asking you to leave your options open. That’s all.”
With his free hand, he repeatedly crumpled a paper napkin and then smoothed it atop the booth’s table. Crumple, smooth, crumple, smooth.
Kind of the way his heart felt these days.
“I’ll think about it,” she said finally.
He sat up straighter in his seat. “You will?”
“Yes.”
“Does that mean you’ll see me again?”
“That’s what I’ll be thinking about.”
He grinned. “Well, think fast, because I already miss you.”
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Delilah thought as she sat on Jesse’s bed, holding her cell phone in her lap and thinking about Quinn’s call. She wasn’t supposed to jump into another relationship. She was supposed to take time to get herself together and decide what she wanted in the wake of her divorce.
Was that too much to ask?
She wasn’t the kind of woman things like this happened to. She’d never been someone who had handsome men falling all over her. She’d barely dated before she’d met Mitch, and then, once she was married, she must have given off housewife vibes, because men had barely looked at her after that.
Until Quinn.
So, what was she supposed to do? Was she supposed to just put herself out there—put her kids out there—and pray that they didn’t get hurt?
That’s how it works, idiot. You put yourself out there and pray you don’t get hurt. That’s how relationships have always worked since the beginning of time. There’s no other way.
The fact was, he made her feel good. Scared, but good. She hadn’t felt good in so long that she’d forgotten what it was like. She’d given up on the idea of feeling good—at least when it came to men.
If it doesn’t work, I’ve got an out.
That’s what he’d said, and he was right. She could walk away in a month if she had to. Or even if she just wanted to.
God, she was so tired of being alone. Of being lonely. She’d been alone and lonely since long before Mitch lef
t—she just hadn’t realized it.
She wanted to let herself be happy, but the risks were substantial.
Delilah pulled up her text message app and typed in a message: The boys can’t know we’re dating. Not until we know how it’s going to go. They have to think we’re just friends.
She sent the message, cursing herself for being weak and stupid enough to put herself at risk again.
In a moment, his response came.
Are we dating, then?
She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, and let it out. Then she answered him.
God help me, yes. I think we are.
Life was nothing without risk.
Chapter 18
Now that he and Delilah were officially a thing, Quinn wanted to show her a good time—not only so she’d want to keep seeing him, but also, if all went well, to get her hooked on Cambria itself. He figured he had a better chance of getting her to stay around past January first if he could sell her on the town’s charms as well as his own.
Fortunately, Hospitality Night was coming up, and that seemed to him like just what he needed.
“What’s Hospitality Night?” she asked when he called to invite her to go with him.
“Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed that everything tends to close up early around here,” he said. It was an understatement. Most of the restaurants were only open for breakfast and lunch, and the boutiques tended to shut down at five p.m.—earlier if business was slow.
“Yes. I have noticed.”
“Every year for one night in December, everybody stays open late and puts out drinks, snacks. There’s music, everybody’s out on the sidewalks. It’s like a party,” he told her.
“That does sound fun. I’ll see if I can get a babysitter.”
“No, don’t.” He said this last part on impulse. “The whole thing’s kid friendly. Santa’s gonna be there. The boys will love it. Bring them.”
“Really? Are you sure you don’t mind?”
He thought he detected a hint of excitement in her voice.
“You bet. I can take you all out to eat first. Let’s make a night of it.”
