Untouched

by Maisey Yates

  “You gave me sausage last night,” Lark said, wiggling her brows.

  “Granted. But I thought I’d give you literal sausage this morning as a good will gesture.”

  It was a poor offering, considering what he’d done to her life, to her relationship with her family. But it was pretty much the best he had to offer.

  “Oh . . . well . . . I think this is pretty much my first real date.”

  “Lark Mitchell, you are a scarlet woman.”

  “Well, you know, I warned you.”

  He laughed, and he felt it. Really felt it. With Lark, feelings seemed to come easy. Feelings that went beyond anger and resentment. It was a hell of a thing. “You did.”

  Amber brought their meals to the table, and Quinn was shocked that they were hot, given the waves of frost coming off of the waitress. He was tempted to be offended. But he couldn’t manage it.

  It was too good of a reminder. Of everything his being with Lark was costing her.

  You’re only here for a couple more weeks. Then it’s ending. And you’re leaving her with a hell of a mess. Because you’re a bastard who dropped an innocent girl into the middle of your feud.

  He ignored the sinking feeling that accompanied the thought. He knew exactly what it was—a little bit of fun. It just felt different because of her age. Because she’d been a virgin. Because she was so damn weird and funny. And because she made him laugh a lot, when very little else did.

  “And I warned you,” he said, the words slipping out. For him. For her.

  She blinked rapidly, her fork frozen in front of her lips, and then she nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know you did.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.” She put a bite of egg in her mouth. “But also, you don’t usually have breakfast with women. And you’ve had it with me a bunch.”

  “It’s just breakfast, baby,” he said, looking down at his plate and picking up a strip of bacon. And ignoring the slowly intensifying feeling that after Lark, he would never really enjoy eating breakfast again.

  ***

  The boys were here. All fifteen of them. Some of them complete with parole officers, some with social workers. Some with concerned parents. It was a mixed bag. There were boys like Nathan, closed off, unreadable, with a rap sheet that put Quinn’s to shame.

  And there boys like Mike, who hadn’t been arrested yet but whose parents feared he would go down that road.

  And there was Jake. The angriest of the bunch. No parole officer, but a social worker, and, going by what he’d read before they arrive, no parents in the picture. Just an ever-rotating string of foster homes and group homes, everyone trying to find something to do with him, no one quite managing it.

  Quinn surveyed the group and watched as his staff interacted with them. Or tried to. Some of them were very resistant to interaction. And Quinn related. This all looked like supreme dumbassery to kids in their position. He knew. He’d been one.

  Angry at the world, desperate to fight against it.

  Wow, Parker. You were one? Or you are one?

  Since when was he insightful? He didn’t do insightful. He closed down his train of thought and stood back, his arms crossed.

  And then Jake caught his eye, and Quinn could swear the boy paled. “You’re Quinn Parker,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Quinn said, taking a step forward. “I am.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I own here,” Quinn said.

  “Oh.”

  “You know me from?”

  “The rodeo. I . . . did some work, volunteer shit, when I was with this one family a couple years ago.”

  “Volunteer shit, eh?”

  Jake crossed his arms, his stance mirroring Quinn’s. “Yeah.”

  “Well, I’ll probably work you a damn sight harder than they did.”

  “You think?”

  “Nah. I know. I’m gonna work you so hard you won’t have the energy to get into any trouble.”

  “Energy is all I got,” Jake said.

  “Well, that’s good. Because I’ve got a lot of work.”

  ***

  From her position in the computer lab, Lark watched the interplay between Quinn and one of the boys. She hadn’t met any of them yet, but she’d seen them. An angry, surly bunch, and the wiry little guy Quinn was with looked the stormiest.

  He was also closely copying the way Quinn stood as Quinn spoke to the small group that was outside, digging a trench for an underground drip line system. He was making good on his promise to put the boys to work, that was for sure.

  And they didn’t hate him for it. Oh, she’d heard them cussing at him, and at work when she’d passed by earlier, but right now they were doing it.

  Quinn would be such a good father.

  The thought, so wistful, so filled with longing, sent a streak of terror through her. Because she wasn’t supposed to think of Quinn’s potential as a baby daddy. Not ever. Not even a little bit.

  But something in her, some hideous, traitorous part, insisted on picturing Quinn with his shirt off, his horse tattoo on full display, cradling a tiny baby in his big hands. Of Quinn finding a new chance at a father-son relationship with a child of his own.

  No. No no no. Stop it, you predictable virgin!

  She couldn’t be seeing visions of a white-picket-fenced future. She couldn’t be. She knew better. She knew things weren’t going to be that way with Quinn. She knew it. She really did. In a few weeks he was going to leave.

  And just thinking about it made her feel like she was going to choke on the sob that was building in her throat.

  How had she gone from hating him to needing him in the space of just a few weeks? How had she gotten to the point where she’d compromised—possibly forever—the most important relationships in her life, for him?

  “Stupidity,” she said, up against the window, the word bouncing back to her. “That’s what it is. It’s bloody stupid stupidity.”

  She blew out a breath and left a spray of fog on the glass, then turned back to the computer lab. She was all set for her first monitored session. Some of the boys really didn’t know how to use computers, so they were going to need a lot of help getting started.

  But she was ready, and excited to be a part of offering them something beyond the life they knew.

  And really looking forward to thinking about something that wasn’t Quinn leaving, Quinn’s babies or having Quinn’s babies.

  Half the boys, the ones not currently engaged in manual labor, filed in, followed by a couple of the male staff members. Lark made quick intros and got everyone set at a computer, then passed out papers with their personal log-in information.

  She wandered around and helped with menial questions, then went to stand at the back, sitting on the counter and keeping an eye on the web surfing and all of its content.

  She turned and started when she saw Sam standing in the doorway. It jarred to see him outside of Elk Haven. To see him here.

  She walked over to him, and he looked at her, wide-eyed as she approached. “Hi,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Can I help you with something?”

  From her conversations with Jill, she knew that they had kids, but she hadn’t heard anything about one of their children being in trouble.

  “Oh no . . . I . . . I, uh . . . was looking for Quinn Parker.”

  “He’s outside. Making them work. I can show you?”

  “Uh . . . sure.”

  She mouthed Back in five to Dave, then led Sam through the lobby area of the building and out the side door, then across the lawn to where Quinn was standing with the boys.

  Quinn lifted his head and froze. “Hey, Sam,” he said.

  “You know Sam?” she asked. “He was staying at Elk Haven.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “What do you mean you
know?”

  The boys had stopped working and were watching the three of them. “Boys,” Quinn said, “this is Sam. He’s going to make sure you don’t slack.”

  “I am?”

  “Just for the next ten minutes or so. You should be able to handle it.”

  Sam shrugged. “Sure, I can. But can they?”

  “Don’t break them, Sam.” Quinn turned to her then. “Come here just for a second.”

  She followed him toward the house, her heart pounding, her hands shaking, and she couldn’t for the life of her understand just why she was so nervous. Except something was weird, and she was sure it was something she wasn’t going to like.

  She stopped when they rounded a corner on the bark-laden path and the boys disappeared from view. “What’s up?”

  “Sam works for me.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. So . . . that’s why I know him, and it’s why he’s here.”

  “For how long?” she asked, trying to process the meaning of the revelation.

  “Years. I’ve known Sam since I was a punk kid.”

  She felt numb. Starting at her fingertips, moving to her lips. “And it wasn’t a coincidence that he was with his wife at Elk Haven, was it?”

  “No.”

  “Dammit, Quinn,” she said, tears stinging her eyes. “Couldn’t you have lied? A little?”

  “No. Not to you. I was already hiding it.”

  “What was he doing there? And please, don’t say he was poisoning the water supply or something heinous, because I will . . . I . . .”

  “He was spying on Cade.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “To see if his injury was real,” Quinn said, his face drawn, the lines more pronounced around his mouth.

  “You could have asked me,” she said. “It’s real.”

  “I know. But no one else was looking to see who might have caused the accident. No one else ever wondered who sabotaged the ride. So I had to go in and ask questions, I was the only suspect, so I had to see if I could find another one.”

  “And now what?” she asked. “Now that you know it’s real?”

  “I still need to get back in there, Lark. No matter what, I need to make sure I get back to the circuit. I can’t spend the rest of my life like this. Drifting. With nothing. Being nothing. I can’t do it.”

  “What do you need?”

  “I need him to recant his story.”

  “And if he won’t?”

  “I need him to.”

  “So, you tell me, Quinn . . . is that what you’re using me for? Is that why I’m here?”

  “No. And yes. It’s complicated.”

  “Dammit, Quinn!” she shouted, shaking now. “Is that why I’m here?”

  “It’s why you’re here. But it’s not why I’m sleeping with you. Obviously I didn’t contract you to come here at random. I thought I could use you to get information about your brother. I thought I could use your position at the ranch as an annoyance to him at minimum. And I thought seducing you might be the way to accomplish that. Or that . . . if you saw something in me he might change his stance.”

  “Brilliant. Brilliant plan. You banging me on every available surface in your house totally made my brother your best friend. Oh, wait, no, it made my brother punch you in your face. On what planet was this a good idea?”

  “I told you, that’s not why I’m sleeping with you. Because it was a terrible idea. The better I got to know you, the less I liked myself for what I’d been planning to do, and I already like myself a damn small amount, Lark.” He took his hat off and pushed his hands through his hair. “And I told myself that seducing you . . . that it was wrong. That I couldn’t do it. And I wasn’t going to. But then you came knocking on my door with your ice cream, and your body, and those eyes . . . baby, I didn’t seduce you. You seduced me.”

  “I was a virgin,” she sniffed. “Virgins don’t seduce. You . . . took me. You brute.”

  “Your story has changed.”

  “I’m pissed at you now.”

  “Enough that you want to leave?”

  The way he was looking at her, those dark eyes, eyes that didn’t match anyone in his family’s, filled with . . . regret, made it hard to think about leaving him. It wasn’t hard to be mad at him. He deserved for her to be mad at him.

  He deserved for her to be relationship-ending mad at him. But the thing was, she just wasn’t. Maybe because he’d told her. And he didn’t have to. Because he’d stood right there and told her the whole story.

  “Why are you sleeping with me?”

  “Because I can’t resist you,” he said. “Because, no matter how much my conscience burns—which, it’s news to me I have one, by the way—I can’t stop myself. I see you, and I want you. I think of you, and my body is on fire like that.” He snapped his fingers to emphasize the point. “Lark, I want you in Superman underwear and out of them. And what we have, it has nothing to do with Cade. Yeah, it started that way. But that’s not why we ended up together.”

  Her throat tightened, her stomach aching. Because they hadn’t ended up together. They were sleeping together, having lots of great sex, but that wasn’t ending up together. It wasn’t feelings, love and forever. It wasn’t wedding bells and babies.

  She thought back to that day at Tyler’s wedding. It had hurt, but she’d known, even then, that she hadn’t wanted wedding bells and babies.

  She wanted them now though. Not in the general sense. In a very specific one. She wanted to walk down the aisle toward Quinn. She wanted to have his babies. She was a sad, predictable, lovelorn idiot.

  And Kelsey was right. She’d been lying to herself, all this time. She’d thought she was fine with losing Quinn after a few weeks, thought she was accepting their affair for what it was. But deep down . . . deep down, she’d always wanted more. And secretly believed there would be

  Because she loved this big rough idiot. This man who had never fit in anywhere. Who had been the worst, and then been content to let people go on believing the worst, even after he’d semi-reformed. This man who was driven by anger. A man her brother hated.

  A man who would probably never love her back.

  She couldn’t have made this any harder on herself if she’d tried.

  “Quinn,” she said, her lips dry, numb. “I . . . what are you going to to do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “To Cade. To get back in.”

  “Whatever I have to do.”

  “I don’t want you to hurt my family.” Even as she said that, she had an image of Cade’s fist slamming into Quinn’s jaw. “I love Cade,” she said.

  “I want one thing,” he said. “That’s to get back into the circuit. I don’t want to hurt your family. But I will do what I have to do to get my place back.”

  “And where do I fit?”

  “You’re . . . you’re not a part of it.”

  “I am though, Quinn. I am.”

  He put his hat back on, his expression blank. “Then maybe you should go on home. I’ll pay you. For the rest of your contract. I really didn’t mean . . . well, I decided not to tangle you up in this, even if it was too late by the time I decided it. So I’m letting you go now.”

  He turned away from her and walked down the path, back toward the boys, and she just stood there, her fingertips icy, the world unsteady beneath her feet.

  Then she walked back toward the house. She walked in through the front door and saw a box sitting on the sideboard in the entry with a stack of envelopes on it.

  It was from the lingerie company. To Longhorn Ranch, care of Quinn Parker. She put the envelopes on the table and picked up the box, opening it and looking inside at the neatly folded thongs, bras and negligees, wrapped in tissue paper.

  She picked the box up and carried it up the stairs to Quinn�
��s room, sitting on the bed, staring down at all the frilly, lacy things.

  When she’d ordered those, she’d felt so brave. So different. She’d felt like changing herself from the ground up, or at least changing her underwear to match the woman she felt like she was becoming.

  She still liked Doctor Who, but the underwear was starting to seem silly. Maybe not for day wear. But for the times when she was with her lover. So funny, because change and instability had always terrified her, and now she felt like she was running toward change. Toward the new Lark.

  Quinn wanted to get revenge on Cade. That was simplified, and she knew it. Quinn was willing to do whatever he had to in order to get himself back on the circuit, and at first, hurting Cade had been an added bonus to the whole thing.

  She couldn’t ignore that. Quinn might be innocent of the accusations made against him, but Quinn wasn’t innocent. He was a man who got things done by whatever means necessary. He didn’t just want his life back—he wanted to punish her family in the process.

  He wasn’t a sure bet. He wasn’t safe. He’d already dragged her out into the sun and put her on horseback. He’d been her first real sexual experience. He’d made her step away from the keyboard, stop looking at life through a screen.

  He made her want touch. Skin. His lips, his hands, his body. Virtual would never be enough again.

  But she had a feeling any man who wasn’t Quinn wouldn’t be enough either.

  This was all scary. It would be easier to go home. To return these slutty undies to sender and get back in her comfort zone. Shooting zombies and curling up in bed alone, instead of making love, laughing and falling asleep in Quinn’s arms.

  She could go back to staying away from the sun. To having nothing more than typical sibling conflict with her brothers.

  She could go back to the bedroom that had become her pen. The thing that kept her safe from life’s dangers, while simultaneously keeping her from any of life’s most incredible treasures.

  She could stick to cotton panties and never, ever, ever try on a thong.

  Safety. It would be a run back to safety.

  Lark pulled a pair of black, exceedingly sheer, underwear from the box. She stood slowly, watching them dangle from her fingertips.