Baby: A Linear Tactical Romantic Suspense Standalone

by Janie Crouch

She was sitting over in the corner booth, her hair once again back in that bun, glasses perched on her nose as she stared down at a laptop on the table in front of her.

  Inappropriate hard-on number infinity-plus-one. What was it about this woman that had his libido so out of control? She was attractive, yes, but there wasn’t anything overtly sexual about her. As a matter fact, it was almost like she was trying to downplay her sex appeal by keeping herself trapped in a perfectly made shell.

  And he wanted to crack it. Not in a bad way, but in a way that got to the real woman underneath.

  All fine and dandy considering he knew less about her than he’d thought, and she had secrets that rivaled his own.

  He ordered a sandwich and coffee and took his number to set on the table. He should leave her alone. He knew he should leave her alone, but he still couldn’t stop himself from walking over to her table.

  “Dr. Pritchard.”

  Her fingers stopped their movement on the keyboard, but she didn’t look up at him.

  “You know,” she whispered.

  He sat at the table next to hers, his back to the wall so he faced her diagonally. “It took me longer than most to figure it out, I’m sure. Maybe if you’d told me your last name rather than ‘Just Quinn’ it wouldn’t have taken me so long to put it all together.”

  She gazed over at him. Those big brown eyes behind the glasses, hair wrapped in a bun—all of it perfect and tight—did nothing to quell his body’s response to her. Given his past, he never would’ve thought sexy librarian would do it for him in such a way, but damn it, it did. As long as the sexy librarian was her.

  “Legally, my last name is Harrison, which is why I didn’t tell you, so you wouldn’t realize I was Riley’s sister. I was technically Harrison–Pritchard when I got my PhD and started my academic career. I was able to use Pritchard as my instructor name at the college.”

  “I see.” The shadow that crossed her face told him there was more to that story than she was saying, but he wasn’t going to press. At least, not right now.

  “And when did you find out that I was Blake Bollinger?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “The day I kissed you behind the Eagle’s Nest when Riley walked by. Your sister said your full name. By then, I’d already sent you that horrible email and told you that you couldn’t pass the class.”

  “Horrible?” Honestly, he hadn’t paid much attention to the tone of the email. Once he’d realized she wasn’t going to give him a chance to pass, he’d stopped trying to decipher any meaning and deleted it.

  “Yes. I never should’ve sent it. When I took over for Mr. Lewis’ classes, it seemed like people were crawling out of the woodwork to try to take advantage of me. Your email was one of the last ones I read that day, and I’d just had it.” She threw her hands up in the air. “But that’s no excuse... I should’ve talked to you, found out what the problem was, and worked with you.”

  That would’ve been more than any of his other professors had done for the classes he’d struggled with.

  “Honestly,” she continued. “I thought you’d figured it out, and that was why you didn’t show up for our non-date.”

  “No, there really was an emergency.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard everybody talk about it at the Eagle’s Nest. Something to do with somebody kidnapping Girl Riley. But she’s safe now, right?”

  He leaned back in his chair as the waitress brought over his sandwich and coffee. He smiled at the teenage girl before she blushed and scurried away.

  “Don’t you think your brother would be a good person to ask about those details?”

  She let out a sigh, took her glasses off, and rubbed her eyes. “Yes, of course. I keep thinking the right time will make itself apparent, but somehow, that never seems to happen.”

  He took a bite of his sandwich and washed it down with coffee.

  “There will always be something that comes up.” He locked eyes with hers. “You’re better off ripping off the bandage and doing it.”

  “I know.” She let out a little huff of breath. “It’s easier for you. You’re open and honest with everyone.”

  What would she say if he told her the truth right now? Told her he had been lying to everyone he knew for most of his adult life? He took another bite of his sandwich to avoid having to respond.

  “Anyway,” she said. “I owe you an apology. If you want to file a complaint with the dean, we might be able to reverse the grade and see about changing the situation. With a different instructor, of course.”

  He glanced back at her face and noticed she looked a little ill. Obviously, this was weighing heavily on her.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary. I was failing the class before you took over.”

  And he’d failed it two other times before.

  “From what I could see, Mr. Lewis wasn’t the greatest instructor. He was already having health issues before his heart attack, and a lot of students were suffering. I think you could make an excellent case for an appeal.”

  “And what would that mean for you? If I filed a complaint and made an appeal?”

  She looked down at her computer. “Normally, nothing. I would offer my communiqué with you and your previous assignments with Mr. Lewis. The dean would probably allow you to retake the class without paying, at the very least.”

  She was avoiding his question. “But for you?”

  She shrugged one small shoulder. “I’m new, so they might frown upon the whole situation for me.”

  Again, there was more she wasn’t telling him. “I see.”

  “That’s what you say when you want to ask more questions, but you don’t feel like it’s the right time.”

  He smiled at her. “Actually, that’s exactly right. I think most people figure that I’m not smart enough to know exactly what they’re talking about, and I’m giving up. Seeing as I’m just a mechanic and all.”

  She squinted her eyes, a hint of anger screwing up her lips into an adorable snarl. “Well, that’s ridiculous. I’m sorry the people you hang out with can’t see what’s right in front of them: that you’re obviously very intelligent. And besides, mechanics tend to have quite highly developed analytical skills.”

  He did love it when she got feisty. And the fact that she was doing it on his behalf touched something inside him.

  She continued before he could say anything. “Not to mention you’re going to college. What are you studying?”

  “Mechanical engineering.”

  He waited for her to scoff, but she didn’t. She nodded exuberantly. “I’m not surprised. I would imagine you’re exceptional at engineering.”

  He pushed the remaining bit of sandwich around on his plate. “I was okay. I actually went by campus today to submit my formal withdrawal from the program.

  “What?”

  “Yeah. I’ve decided college life wasn’t for me.”

  He watched in horror as her eyes filled with tears. “Oh no! Because of me? Please, no.”

  “No, not because of you. I promise. My attempt to get my degree was to fulfill a very specific purpose and that purpose had a hard deadline. Looks like there’s no way for me to make that deadline, so I’m going to focus on other things for a while.”

  She didn’t look convinced. “Don’t you want to work at the auto shop anymore? Were you hoping for a new career? Is that what you were working for?”

  He finished the last bite of the sandwich. “No. I wasn’t looking for a change. I like doing mechanical design, and honestly, I don’t need a degree to do it. Besides, I’m quite happy with my job as Oak Creek’s super mechanic. We have enough super soldiers, so I fill another void.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I see.”

  He chuckled. “Touché.”

  “Can I at least talk you out of withdrawing? Take a couple of weeks and think about it. Things may seem a little different later on. Or at least do it for me, so I won’t feel like such a schmuck.”

  He laughed out
loud at that. “Deal. I can’t have you feeling like a schmuck.”

  “I really am sorry. I would never want to discourage anyone in their academic pursuits.”

  Her apology was so obviously heartfelt, it was impossible not to take her sincerely.

  “My situation has been building for some time. There’s no need to blame yourself, I promise.”

  She looked like she wanted to press for more details but stopped herself.

  He gave the teenage waitress a little wave so she would bring his bill over then turned back to Quinn. “I do have one question.”

  The waitress brought over both their checks. They both got out their credit cards and handed them to her.

  “What’s your question?”

  “If you had known who I was the night of your birthday, that I was a student...would that have changed stuff about that night?”

  She nodded rapidly. “Oh yes. Whether you were still in my class or whether I’d withdrawn you, there was no way I could’ve let you...”

  He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a face so red in his entire life.

  “Eat your cupcake?” he finished for her with a grin.

  “Oh my God,” she muttered.

  There was no way he was stopping now. “It was a delicious cupcake.” He licked his lips in memory, and her face turned a touch redder.

  As they stared at each other, it was honestly all he could do not to reach across both their tables and kiss her.

  “Here you go.” The waitress returning to their table stopped him. “I just need you to sign here, sir.” She handed him the credit card slip, then rocked awkwardly on both feet as she turned to Quinn.

  “Um, your debit card wouldn’t work for some reason. Do you have another card I could try?”

  Now Quinn’s face burned red for an entirely different reason. “No. Do you mind trying it again?”

  The teenager looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I mean, I can, but I’ve tried it on two different machines, and it didn’t work. We also take cash...”

  Quinn frantically searched through her purse and computer bag, obviously looking for any sort of spare change. “I might need to call my bank and see what’s going on. I don’t seem to have—”

  “How about you put hers on my card, too.” Baby slid the card back toward the waitress.

  Quinn shook her head, rubbing her eyes with her fingers. “Baby, I—”

  He willed her to look at him so he could give her a smile and let her know it was okay. But she kept staring down at her computer. He picked up the card and handed it to the young girl, nodding. She scurried off.

  “Hey,” he said when Quinn still didn’t look at him. “I can’t leave you here to work off your debt in indentured servitude.”

  She gave a strangled chuckle. “I probably should’ve let my bank know I was leaving Boston so purchases out here wouldn’t seem suspicious.”

  She finally looked at him and he winked. “Yeah. All banks know that the most cunning credit card thieves head immediately to Western Wyoming.”

  “Crime capital of the world.”

  Atta girl. You can recover from this.

  “Thank you for lunch, I guess. And for fixing my car for what I’m sure is way less than fair market price—”

  “Go out with me.”

  “Baby—”

  “Let’s start over.” He reached over and grabbed her hand. “Let’s pretend you were never my instructor; I never missed our non-date, and there was never any car or credit card issues, or secret identities. Just a man asking a beautiful woman out on a date.”

  “We’re very different, you and I.”

  He shifted closer to her. “Differences are what makes things interesting.”

  The waitress came back and gave him the second slip to sign. Baby did so, then stood up. “Say yes, Q–U–I–N–N.”

  “And...eating cupcakes? Did that happen?” She popped her hand over her mouth like she couldn’t believe the words had escaped.

  He threw back his head and laughed. This woman. God, he wanted to know everything about her.

  “You know what,” she said before he could respond. “Forget I said that.”

  Dammit, she was going to turn him down, cupcakes or not. “Go out with me, Quinn.” She opened her mouth to object, but he didn’t pause to let her. “And I am not talking about a non-date. I want a real date, with you, whenever and wherever you’ll allow it.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him and reached up to tuck that ever-unruly strand of hair back into her bun. “Okay, I’ll go out with you Blake Bollinger, but on one condition.”

  “Done.”

  She smiled as she shook her head. But it was the truth. He doubted there was anything she could say that he wouldn’t agree to.

  Have their dates out of town so there wasn’t any chance of running into her brother? No problem.

  Take her somewhere fancy, fitting the high-end clothes and makeup she wore? No problem.

  Promise not to try to get her into bed on the first date? Definitely more difficult, but he would manage somehow.

  “Name your terms.”

  “You don’t withdraw from Teton State College. You give it at least one more shot.”

  Shit. She’d maneuvered him quite nicely. “Okay, sneaky professor. You’ve got yourself a deal. I won’t actually submit the paperwork out in my truck.”

  It wasn’t going to make any difference. But he would give college one last shot next semester.

  She smiled, and he realized this really had been important to her. “Tomorrow, four o’clock,” he said. “I missed our sunrise date, but I can still show you the sunset. Does that work for you?”

  “Yes.”

  He reached over to trail a finger down her cheek. “I’ll see you then. And for the record, no, we will not be forgetting about the eating of the cupcakes. I have a feeling I’ll be ninety years old and still remember eating cupcakes.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Driving home a couple hours later, Quinn’s car was running better than it had been, no doubt thanks to Baby.

  She’d stayed at the diner after he’d left to finish grading some papers.

  And because his parting line about the cupcakes had her squirming in her chair.

  She should’ve said no to their date. What was the point in starting something like this with someone like him? There was nowhere for it to go.

  But that was just it, wasn’t it?

  Maybe it didn’t have to go anywhere. She’d spent the past ten years of her life trying to propel herself forward in her career and marriage. Always barreling ahead rather than appreciating what was around her.

  Maybe for once, she could enjoy the experience. Experience the experience, without always wondering what was coming next.

  Certainly, there was a lot to enjoy when it came to Baby Bollinger.

  She wasn’t exactly sure what was going on with his college experience. Why would someone as intelligent as him be withdrawing from college altogether? That email she’d sent must’ve had some negative effect, despite his assurances otherwise. She would do everything in her power to help him be as successful as possible in his classes next semester. She’d have to learn more about whatever deadline he was talking about but—

  She slammed on the brakes and swerved about a quarter mile from her house as a dog wandered out in front of her. They stared at each other through the windshield.

  The poor thing looked hurt and hungry.

  She put the car in park. This may not be the best idea, but she couldn’t just leave the dog here if it would let her help it.

  Animals aren’t people, Quinn. They’re meant to provide entertainment for people who can’t appreciate the finer things in life.

  She sat staring at the dog, Peter’s voice ringing in her head. He was probably right. She wouldn’t know how to care for a dog even if she could get this one to come with her.

  But...she could try.

  Experience the experience.

  She
opened the car door and the dog hobbled back toward the trees.

  “Wait. I want to help you.”

  The dog didn’t stop or respond. Big surprise. She watched as it limped farther away, then she got back in the car and drove the last minute to her house. Maybe she could buy some dog food and set it nearby. Something to help it if it was hungry.

  It didn’t have to be her dog. Although she had to admit, she could identify with the creature: limping along with one leg broken out from under you, hungry, and scared.

  Great. A stray dog was now the fitting metaphor for her life.

  She parked at her rental house and went inside, letting out a sigh at the state of the place. She reminded herself that she was getting a great deal on rent, even by Wyoming standards. So what if the furniture was sparse—a single couch and coffee table in the living room, with no television and only one lamp. The kitchen had a table which sat two, but she rarely ate at it since it was so wobbly—one of the legs obviously shorter than the others.

  Her bedroom consisted of a double bed and one dresser. She used a pile of her classical literature textbooks stacked on one another to form a nightstand. That had worked well enough that she’d done the same thing in the living room next to the couch.

  So yes, her collection of the writings of Milton now had water stains on it from her setting glasses there.

  Since it didn’t dampen her love for the author, she figured it was okay.

  The worst thing about this house was by far the wallpaper. The owner, Mrs. Mazille, obviously had appreciated wallpaper back in its 1980s heyday. But God, was it awful. Bright and gaudy and loud. Mrs. Mazille had told her she could paint over it if she wanted, and maybe she would.

  That was...if Quinn was staying. If she had a job. If her life didn’t implode again.

  Speaking of imploding, she had to call her bank first thing tomorrow and see what the heck was going on with the debit card. She hadn’t used it at all since paying for the car repairs last week, and there hadn’t been a problem then. Thank goodness.

  She thought she would die of embarrassment when Baby had had to pay for her soup and coffee at the diner. He, of course, had taken it all completely in stride.