by Jenna Sutton
“Hiya, handsome.”
He returned her smile. “Hi, Mom,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Where are Dad and Cal?”
“Dad’s upstairs resting, and Cal’s out on the deck,” she answered, gesturing toward the French doors with her knife.
“Whoa! Easy with the knife!” he exclaimed, moving several feet away from her. “You almost sliced off my ear.” He cocked his head. “Is Dad doing okay today?”
She nodded. “Yes, he’s fine. You know he loves to take naps on Sunday afternoon.”
He shrugged off his leather jacket and hung it on the back of one of the chairs grouped around the farmhouse table. A bright blue vase filled with daisies sat in the middle of the table.
He smiled. He’d bet his last dollar his dad had given them to his mom.
Kate loved flowers, and for as long as Quinn could remember, James had brought her a bouquet every Wednesday. He never had them delivered. He believed flowers should be presented in person. When he had been weakened from his cancer treatment, he’d asked his kids to buy the bouquets so he could continue to surprise his wife with flowers.
“Do you need any help with the salad?”
She laughed. “Sweetie, the last time you helped me, you almost cut off your finger.”
He scowled. “That was because Teagan ran into me, Mom.”
He let his gaze wander the kitchen. It was different from the one he’d grown up in because his mom had renovated it right before his dad had gotten sick. It reminded him a lot of his own kitchen with its shiny, commercial-grade appliances.
The big difference was the light green cabinets. When his mom had first shown him the color sample for them, he’d wondered if her good taste had deserted her. But once the cabinets were installed, they had looked great.
The most interesting thing about the kitchen was the light fixture. Made from at least twenty mason jars of different sizes, it hung over the butcher-block island like pendant lights.
A bakery box on the granite counter caught his attention, the pink and white stripes and brown script lettering instantly recognizable. Crossing the kitchen, he opened the box to find a variety of Babycakes treats including their famous red velvet cupcakes.
He stared down at the gastronomic delights, smiling when he thought about Amelia’s mouth covered in icing at the chocolate festival. But the smile slipped from his face as a huge wave of loneliness crashed over him.
He missed Amelia. He missed her Texas twang, her sweet smile, and her brown-sugar freckles. He missed the peace she gave him when he was with her, the sense he was exactly where he was supposed to be. It was easier for him to breathe when she was with him, easier for him to face the day and all the problems he had to solve.
“Don’t you dare!” his mom exclaimed fiercely from her place by the island. “Those cupcakes are for dessert.” She pointed toward him with the knife. “You’ll ruin your dinner.”
Rolling his eyes, he closed the bakery box. “I think I just regressed to a ten-year-old boy.”
In response, she gestured toward the stainless steel fridge. “Grab a beer and go keep your brother company. He’s moping.”
He nodded. “I think it’s going to get ugly.”
She gave him an assessing glance. “I think so, too. All three of my children are in love, and apparently it’s not all wine and roses.” She tilted her head toward the French doors. “Now get out of my kitchen.”
He frowned. “What? Teagan’s in love?” he asked incredulously. “Since when? And do we know him? Or her?”
Kate snickered. “Why don’t you worry about your own love life? By the way, how is Amelia?”
He cleared his throat. “How did you know?”
This time it was his mom who rolled her eyes. “Please.”
When it was obvious she wasn’t going to elaborate, he grabbed two bottles of Anchor Steam, popped them open, and joined Cal on the redwood deck. He set the beers down on the weathered patio table before dropping into the seat next to his brother.
Cal’s USC baseball cap shadowed his face, and when he looked up, Quinn noticed his eyes were bloodshot. He felt a rush of anger toward Saika that she was making his brother so miserable. He wanted to tell her that she’d never find a better man than Cal, but he had a feeling she already knew that.
Propping his leg on his knee, Quinn took a swig of his beer. “Are you aware our sister has gone MIA?”
Cal shot him a quizzical look. “What are you talking about?”
“She left me a voicemail that she’s taking some time off and she won’t be back until Thanksgiving.”
Cal pushed back the brim of his cap. “No shit?”
“Yeah. And then she told me that she wouldn’t have access to phone or email.”
His brother’s eyes widened. “Where did she go?”
“I have no idea. She told Dad, but she asked him not to tell anyone.”
“Bebe probably knows where she is,” Cal said, his mouth turned down in a frown.
Cal and Teagan’s best friend, Bebe, didn’t like each other much, although no one could figure out why. Most women loved his younger brother, but Bebe was nice to everyone except Cal. He, meanwhile, insulted her with every word that came out of his mouth.
“I don’t want to track Teagan down and ruin her vacation. I just think it’s weird. Don’t you?”
Cal nodded before taking a pull on his beer.
“Mom says Teagan’s in love,” Quinn said.
Cal choked, falling into a coughing fit. Finally, he caught his breath and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Did you have to wait to tell me that until I had beer in my mouth?”
Quinn smiled. “They say timing is everything,” he said, laughing when Cal glared at him.
“So who is she supposedly in love with?”
“I have no idea,” he answered with a shrug.
“Too bad she’s not here. You could hold her down while I tickled the truth out of her. And then we could beat up the guy.”
Quinn chuckled. Teagan was incredibly ticklish, and he and Cal had shown her no mercy when they’d been younger. They sat in companionable silence, enjoying their beers until his gaze fell on Cal’s tablet. It was face down on the table.
“What were you looking at?” he asked.
“A report on the social media buzz generated from Priest’s ad campaign.”
“How’s it going?”
“Much better than I ever could have imagined.”
“What do you mean? Didn’t you think the campaign was going to be successful?”
“We knew Priest was popular with guys, and since we were looking to increase awareness with men and improve sales for the men’s line, he was a great fit. But women love Priest. Apparently he has universal appeal, and we’re getting buzz from female consumers.”
Quinn recalled Amelia’s comments about the pro football player. Universal appeal was one way of putting it.
“So you expect a bump for the women’s division, too?”
“No. The buzz is for our men’s jeans, which makes sense when you think about Shelby’s point that women buy clothes for their men. Hell, a lot of wives pick out their husbands’ entire wardrobe. The guys never even step inside a store.”
Quinn considered what Cal had said. He had chosen his own clothes since he was a teenager, and no one he’d dated had ever commented on his clothes, nor had they tried to change his style. Luna had been his longest relationship, and the most personal gift she had given him was a hardback novel by his favorite mystery author.
He figured Amelia would definitely have an opinion about his clothing. Strangely, the idea of her telling him what to wear didn’t bother him at all. He was glad Cal didn’t know what he was thinking, though, because his brother would say something like “You’re so whipped, your girlfriend dresses you.”<
br />
“Speaking of female consumers, Amelia showed me her sketches for the accessories line on our way to Georgia.”
“Were they any good?”
“They were really good. Unfortunately, I don’t think they’re enough to save the women’s division.”
Cal opened his mouth, but then closed it without speaking. He rolled his lips inward until they were nothing but a flat line.
“Nothing to say?” Quinn asked.
“Maybe later,” Cal muttered, “after I’ve had a few more beers.”
Quinn shrugged. He wasn’t going to push the issue. Cal would talk when he was good and ready. Badgering his younger brother had never achieved anything.
Changing the subject, Quinn announced, “I’m flying to Nashville on Tuesday morning.”
“Business or pleasure?” Cal asked innocently, his blue eyes sparkling with devilry.
“Pleasure. I’m going to surprise Amelia and attend the awards show with her. She was going to be in the audience by herself because Ava Grace is performing and presenting.”
“What does one wear to a country music awards show?” Cal asked, pulling his baseball cap down over his eyes. “A tuxedo with rhinestones on the lapels?”
Quinn laughed. “I’m not sure. I wish I could ask Amelia but that would spoil the surprise.”
Cal rose from his chair and headed toward the sliding glass door. Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, he slanted an amused glance over his shoulder.
“Brother, you are so whipped you want your girlfriend to dress you.”
Chapter 37
Amelia tripped over the rug in the foyer in her rush to get to the front door. “Rutherford Birchard Hayes,” she muttered as she balanced on her tiptoes to peer out the peephole.
When she saw who stood on the porch, she stumbled back from the door and then reared up again to look into the round hole. She couldn’t believe her eyes.
Quinn!
Her heart stuttered, and she sucked in a surprised breath. Grabbing the doorknob, she yanked open the door at the same time he pulled open the screen door.
Her face cracked with a huge smile, and they stared at each other for a heartbeat before she threw herself at him. He dropped the garment bag he held over his shoulder and caught her, stumbling backward and grunting as her body barreled into his.
Hugging her to him, he buried his face in her hair. He laughed softly. “Well, I guess that answers my question if you’re happy to see me,” he said, rubbing his big hands up and down her back.
She nodded, nuzzling her face against his chest and pulling in a deep breath. Oh, she had missed his scent and the feel of his hard body against hers.
He wove his hands into her hair and tipped her head back. Leaning down, he kissed the corner of her mouth.
“Damn, I missed you,” he said before placing his lips against hers in a gentle kiss.
She wanted to tell him eight days wasn’t that long to go without seeing each other. Military spouses went months without seeing their loved ones. But she couldn’t force the words from her throat because every one of those eight days and nights had dragged by even though she’d been busy with work.
Pulling back from his kiss, she bent down and picked up his garment bag from the ground. “Let’s go inside. It’s kind of cold out here.”
He smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “That’s because you’re barefoot and wearing a robe, Juice.”
Amelia looked down in surprise. In her excitement to see Quinn, she’d forgotten she wasn’t dressed. The glint in his dark blue eyes told her that he hadn’t overlooked that fact.
Taking the bag from her, he ushered her into the house. He threw it on the mission-style bench in the foyer and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her a little bit.
“Are you naked under that robe, sweetheart?” he asked huskily.
She clutched his shoulders and nodded slowly, feeling a little bit shy. He let her drop to the floor and reached for the tie at her waist. She placed her hands on top of his to still his agile fingers.
“I’m so happy to see you.” She bit her lip. “But what are you doing here? I have to get ready for Ava Grace’s awards show. The hair and makeup girls are going to be here soon.”
“I know. I’m going with you.”
“You are?” she asked, her voice high and breathless.
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“But how?”
“I called Ava Grace last week and asked if she would help me surprise you. She arranged a ticket to the show for me, and here I am.”
With a loud squeal, she threw her arms around him, squeezing tightly. She was thrilled, and not just because she got to enjoy his company. She couldn’t wait to see his face once she was all dressed up.
She had no illusions about her looks, but a fabulous dress could do a lot for a short girl with a big butt. Plus, she’d seen the way women looked at Quinn. He drew the eyes of every female from nine years old to ninety, and she’d like to feel equal to his good looks for one night, at least.
He laughed at her exuberance, scooping her against him with his arms under her behind. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.
“How long can you stay?”
“How long do you want me?”
Before she could answer, Quinn bunched her robe in his hands and palmed her bare behind. His hands were warm, and suddenly, all she could think about was how hot and hard the rest of him was.
He turned toward the wall and backed her up against it, pressing his jean-covered erection into her. “Where’s your bedroom?” he rumbled against her ear.
Just then, the doorbell rang. He dropped his forehead against hers with a heartfelt groan. “I seriously regret stopping for that Starbucks coffee because I could have been here ten minutes earlier,” he muttered. “And trust me when I say that I would have used that time wisely.”
She snickered as he loosened his arms and let her slide down his body. “You think you would have lasted ten minutes?” she asked. “I wouldn’t have.”
He grinned. “I know.”
She lightly slapped his chest in mock offense before turning toward the front door. “Wait,” he directed, hooking a finger in the belt of her robe. “I need a place to hang out while you primp. And I need a shower.”
“You can use the guest room. It has a TV and an attached bath. Down the hall, first door on the right.”
He patted her rear before grabbing his garment bag and striding away. Opening the door, she greeted the hair and makeup girls and then ushered them into the house.
She was lucky Jasmine and Selena had been available this evening. They were fast and fabulous, and they knew how to make the most of Amelia’s curly red hair and fair skin.
“By the time we’re finished with you, you’re going to feel like a completely different woman,” Selena promised as they traipsed up the stairs to Amelia’s bedroom.
Three hours later, Amelia definitely looked like a completely different woman.
Her sapphire-colored dress floated around her feet. The vertical ruching at the waist minimized her midsection, while the contrasting diagonal ruching on the bodice elongated her torso and emphasized her breasts before draping over one shoulder and leaving the other bare.
It was a beautiful dress. The color drew attention to her hair without turning it orange and made her skin look creamy instead of pasty. The strappy silver sandals with their stiletto heels and crystal buckles were the perfect complement.
Jasmine and Selena had left right after they helped Amelia into her gown. She had stayed in her room, though, hoping she could regain some of her earlier excitement.
A strange mood had swept over her while Jasmine had piled her curls into an elaborate updo adorned with crystal pins. She’d looked into the mirror above her dresser and had seen s
omeone she hadn’t recognized. Someone with flawless makeup and artfully arranged hair.
Minutes later, she had slipped into a nine-thousand-dollar dress and twelve-hundred-dollar shoes. When she had glimpsed herself in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door, she’d felt like a princess in a fairy tale. The air had seemed to sparkle and shimmer around her body.
She’d stared at herself, and her strange mood had intensified. Everything seemed so unreal. The dress, the awards show, Quinn. The word “unreal” had echoed in her head, and she’d started to dissect what it meant.
Unreal meant imaginary, dreamlike, fantasy. It was the opposite of real.
“Juice, the limo’s here,” Quinn called from downstairs. “You need to get a move on.”
Amelia stared down at her freshly manicured hands, the nails painted with shiny scarlet polish. No matter how different she looked, she was still the same woman. She wasn’t a princess, Quinn wasn’t her prince, and her life wasn’t a fairy tale.
Even she knew princesses were honest and brave. Most of all, they always got their happily ever after.
Amelia wasn’t honest, and she wasn’t brave. If she were, she would have told Quinn about Teagan’s project. She would have admitted her involvement in a scheme that could end up costing him the CEO job.
And no matter how much she wanted happily ever after with Quinn, she knew that wasn’t reality. When he found out she had been working behind his back, he would end things between them—she was absolutely sure of it.
“Amelia, are you ready yet?” Quinn asked through the door. “We really need to go.”
She clenched her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to go to the show. She wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head, and fall into a dream where she had never deceived Quinn.
But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—disappoint Ava Grace by not showing up on her big night.
Grabbing the jeweled clutch that matched her dress, she opened the door. “I’m ready. Do you have . . .”
She lost her train of thought when she got her first look at Quinn in his suit. Except for the launch party when he’d worn a blazer, she’d never seen him in anything but Rileys and a casual shirt.
