by Tawny Weber
So she let them see only what she wanted them to see.
And told herself she no longer wished for more.
“I’m an open book. A busy one,” she said pointedly, grabbing a bottle of the beer his brother was drinking. She opened it and set it in front of Xander. “On the house. A thank-you for your service.” When he didn’t take it, she slid it even farther toward him. “Enjoy your evening.”
Not quite as blatant as if she’d just told him he was dismissed, but pretty close.
He got the not-so-subtle hint and picked up the bottle. Hesitated as if he didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to walk away from her.
But he would. They all did eventually.
Which was why she’d learned to do the walking first.
“It was real good seeing you again, Quinn,” he said quietly before turning and making his way toward his brother and their high school cronies.
He didn’t look back.
And she’d lick a bar stool before admitting to anyone—even herself—how much she’d wanted him to.
Or that it’d been good seeing him, too.
2
“WHEW,” LENNY CORWIN said under his breath as he ogled the curvy blonde walking past them. “I’d like to take her for a ride. She’s turned me down four times, though. But she’s giving you the do-me look, Xander. You gonna go for it?”
At the pool table, Xander gave the blonde a dismissive glance then lined up his next shot. “Zane went out with her.”
“So?”
“Bennett brothers don’t share,” Joe Beck piped up from his spot watching Xander clear the table. Joe sucked at pool. Always had. Xander almost felt bad about taking his money. Almost. “Remember? Any chick one of them does—”
Xander lifted his gaze, spearing the other man with a narrow look.
“Dates,” Joe corrected. He cleared his throat. Took a sip of beer. “Any chick one of them dates,” he repeated, “is on the other’s do-not-touch list.”
“Is that why the two of you live on opposite coasts? To keep the field clear for the other?”
Zane laughed. “No. It’s so we can spread the joy of the Bennett brothers around. Our little favor to womankind.”
At their table in the corner, Kyle Daley poured his fourth glass of beer, emptying the pitcher. “Methinks it’s challenge time.”
Challenge time.
Jesus Christ.
Xander banked the eight ball into the side pocket. “No.”
“C’mon, it’s tradition,” Mike Harris said.
Kyle leaned back—and almost toppled over before catching his balance. Another thing that hadn’t changed. Kyle couldn’t hold his beer worth shit.
After two attempts, he lifted his feet—one, then the other—onto the table. “He’s got a point. We’ve been issuing challenges since second grade when Joe dared the two of you to jump off the dugout roof to see who could land closest to the pitcher’s mound.”
Zane had won, beating Xander by six inches and breaking his ankle in the process.
“Or Mike’s cookie challenge. Xander won that one. How many snickerdoodles did you eat? Four dozen?”
Xander’s stomach turned. He hasn’t been able to eat a snickerdoodle since.
And he loved snickerdoodles.
“Four dozen and two,” he corrected. He nodded in his brother’s direction. “Zane upchucked at forty-nine.”
“Drag racing on Old March Road.”
“Who could catch the most bass when we camped at Adobe Creek.”
“Who could get the most applause singing ‘Living on a Prayer’ in the cafeteria.”
Xander caught Zane’s eye roll, amusement on his brother’s face. The challenges hadn’t been so bad when they’d been young.
But he didn’t play games now.
And his career gave him plenty of challenges. He didn’t need these bozos coming up with stupid dares so he could prove himself.
Xander shot the last ball into the pocket and Zane stood. “I think we’ve outgrown being dumbasses.”
Mike looked like a kid whose favorite toy just got run over by a semi. “We can’t have a reunion without a challenge.”
Joe rejoined them, carrying a full pitcher of beer. “And I’ve got the perfect one. Remember the girl everyone wanted to date in school?”
Zane frowned. “No.”
Of course Zane didn’t know who Joe was talking about. Back in high school, if Zane wanted to date a girl, he dated her.
He’d always been the master at getting what he wanted.
But Xander... He glanced at the woman behind the bar, doling out drinks and sexy smiles.
Yeah. He remembered.
“You mean the Princess?” Zane asked, but he wasn’t looking at Quinn. He was watching Xander.
Shit. He’d given himself away.
“Yep, the Princess. Quinn Oswald was the finest girl in our class. Nobody here scored with her then and nobody’s scored with her since she moved back to Little Creek.”
From his tone, good ol’ Joe had given it his best shot.
The bastard.
Xander’s fingers tightened on the pool stick and Zane put a hand on his arm. They’d always had the whole twin sixth sense thing going on, could always tell when the other was hurt or in trouble.
Or slowly getting so pissed off, they wanted to wrap a pool stick around an old friend’s neck.
“We don’t bet on sex,” Zane said, speaking for them both.
Xander didn’t mind. They were twins, not clones, with their own individual sets of strengths and weaknesses. But there was one very important thing they had in common.
They had each other’s backs.
Always.
“Not sex.” But Joe’s disappointed tone said that was exactly what he’d meant. “A date. Just a date.”
Kyle grinned. “To the reunion dance. Last night of the event, everyone’s wearing clothes. Nothing rude about that, right? It’ll be like prom night all over again.”
“A date with Quinn Oswald to the reunion dance. Let’s make it easy on her and keep the choice between the two of you,” Mike said to Xander and Zane. “Challenge issued.”
Xander met Zane’s eyes. Son of a bitch. His brother was seriously contemplating accepting this stupid dare.
Zane never could turn down a challenge. And it wasn’t about proving himself. It was about one thing and one thing only.
Winning.
“Yeah, sure,” Zane said with a shrug. “It’s better than raw eggs. And should be more fun.”
Xander glanced at Quinn again. If he didn’t accept, the challenge would still go on. Zane would pursue Quinn with the same single-minded focus he used to get whatever he wanted.
Except he didn’t want Quinn. Not really.
But Xander did.
And he’d be damned if he’d spend the next two weeks sitting on his ass while his brother got the girl.
It was time he went after what he wanted.
He nodded at Zane. “I’m in.”
* * *
AH, QUINN THOUGHT as she carried cleaning supplies down the short hall. Finally. The best part of the night and her absolute favorite part of her job.
Closing time.
She stepped into the bar, set her supplies down then pulled her hair back into a short ponytail. A Norah Jones song played over the radio, Norah singing about love and loss, the melody mellow and heartbreaking.
Shutting her eyes, Quinn inhaled deeply. God, she used to love this song. Had danced to it just after being named homecoming queen.
It’d been her shining moment and, at the time, everything she’d ever wanted. Wearing a sparkly blue dress, that plastic crown on top of her head, had been the pinnacle of her
high school career. While Nora crooned over the gym’s loud speakers, she’d swayed in the arms of her king while the entire student body watched.
Their princess had become their queen.
Her eyes opened.
Princess. She snorted and sprayed cleaner over the bar. More like Cinderella now. A fairy tale in reverse.
If they could only see me now, she thought, scrubbing the ancient wood with enough force to wear a hole clean through it.
How the mighty Quinn had fallen.
Oh, that was right. They could see her and they did, each and every day. And she’d made it so easy for them, slinking back to Little Creek after her divorce, desperate to get back on her feet.
Determined to make it on her own.
Broke but not broken.
Not completely. Just...changed.
She was smarter. Stronger. And she still had her pride.
It didn’t do much to keep her warm at night but it did help her face each day with her head held high.
Humming along to the end of the song, she walked out from behind the bar with a tray and began clearing tables. The song ended, and in that brief few seconds before the next one started, the nape of her neck prickled. Frowning, she rubbed it, trying to shake off the sensation that something was...well, not wrong, exactly...just off.
She stepped farther into the room and peeked around the partition into the alcove.
And met Xander Bennett’s eyes.
Oh, yeah, something was definitely off because desire swept through her, hard and fast, almost knocking her back a step. Her heart raced. Her head spun. Her stomach dropped. It was like she was in a full-on swoon.
It was exhilarating and exciting and terrifying all at once.
It was also dangerous. Deceptive. A girl could be lured into believing she could play with fire and not get burned. Or worse, that the pain of touching the flame would be worth it in the end.
Lies. Vicious, hurtful lies.
“What are you doing?” she asked, unable to hide her irritation. Why should she try? It was late, she was tired and he was ticking her off. He wasn’t supposed to be here.
She wasn’t supposed to find him attractive in more than a passing “isn’t he pretty to look at” way. There should be no racing, spinning or dropping.
And absolutely no swooning.
“Waiting for you,” he said.
Damn it. And there shouldn’t be any sort of thrill from three simple words.
“Didn’t Steve tell you it’s closing time? Was closing time,” she corrected, checking her watch. “Twenty minutes ago.”
Xander nodded. “He told me.”
She hesitated, but that seemed to be all he had to say on the subject. A man of few words.
It was intriguing, how he didn’t blab on and on. How he thought through his answers, spoke slowly and carefully. Intriguing and more appealing than she liked to admit.
Most guys talked and talked and talked—mainly about themselves. Trying so hard to impress her. To get her to spend more time with them. To get her into bed. Or else they talked about her—more specifically, they talked about how beautiful she was, her eyes as blue as the sky, her hair like silk...blah, blah, blah.
If she wanted a description of what she looked like, she’d check out her reflection in the mirror.
“Steve told you it was closing time,” she repeated, “and yet, you’re still here.” She narrowed her eyes. “He didn’t tell you to leave?”
Another nod. “I told him I was staying.” He shrugged as if he had no idea what the problem was. “He seemed okay with it.”
“Of course he was okay with it,” she said with an eye roll. “You’re a freaking SEAL. He was probably terrified you’d eviscerate him with a stir straw.”
One side of his mouth hitched up in a boyish grin. No way she’d ever admit how adorable she found it. “I’m not sure that’s possible,” he said. “Maybe two stir straws. And one of those plastic swords. They seem pretty pointy.”
She swallowed a smile. Seriously? Good-looking, an American hero and funny?
She glanced at the heavens. Someone up there had a wicked and perverse sense of humor.
“Well, Steve may have been fine with letting you stick around,” she said, “but I’m not. You know what they say. You don’t have to go home. But you can’t stay here. You and your brother and your buddies can always come back later for another Let’s Reminisce About Our High School Glory Days meeting. We reopen at 3:00 p.m.”
He headed toward her, his walk deceptively lazy. “It wasn’t.”
She frowned. The man was really messing with her head if she couldn’t follow a simple conversation.
A simple conversation in which she was doing most of the talking. “It wasn’t what?” she asked.
He came closer, his gaze on her like a touch, one she felt to her bones. She ducked her head, pretended to focus on loading dirty glasses onto her tray. Hey, she was only human, made of flesh and blood and, it seemed, an abundance of hormones, and it was disconcerting having that much focus on her.
She felt exposed, like he was looking past her face and body, trying to see inside her head.
She shook that fanciful notion off. He wasn’t interested in her thoughts and feelings. No man was.
He stopped at the opposite side of the table. “High school wasn’t my glory days.”
No, she supposed it wasn’t. From what she could remember, he’d been popular enough in school. Not on par with the more outgoing Zane, but Xander had been well liked, smart and an accomplished athlete.
Now he had a successful career as a SEAL and, if she had to guess, plans for his future that didn’t include returning to Little Creek with no money, no job prospects or viable employment skills and no idea what he was going to do with his life. His future was probably all mapped out, complete with goals he accomplished with regularity.
Only brighter days were ahead for him. Brighter days.
“Lucky you,” she said drily, resentment dripping into her tone, “not to have peaked in high school.”
“That what you think?” he asked quietly, his gaze too knowing. “That you peaked in high school?”
She wasn’t sure, and that was the problem. “What I think is that I have a lot of work left to do. And you’re keeping me from it.”
“I’ll help.”
She set a glass on the tray with a sharp crack. “I don’t want or need your help.”
“You shouldn’t be here by yourself. I’ll wait until you’re done then walk you to your car.”
His concern for her was sweet but she couldn’t trust it. Couldn’t believe it was real.
No matter how much she found herself wanting to.
“I’m perfectly safe,” she said, sashaying around the table to stand before him. “Besides, we both know what you want—and it’s not to see me safely to my car. And while I’m flattered...” Flattered. Incredibly tempted. Why quibble? “I’m not interested in hooking up with an old high school classmate.”
A horrible lie, as she was becoming more interested by the moment, especially standing this close to him. But she couldn’t let him know it so she gave him a light, condescending pat on his cheek. “Don’t worry. I’m sure there will be plenty of women at the reunion eager to take a trip down memory lane with you.”
Something in his eyes changed, lit with challenge and she froze, her fingertips on his cheek.
Damn it, she’d gone too far.
Before she could pull away, he caught her wrist, held it lightly. Then tugged her closer, the move so slow, she knew he was giving her a chance to break free should she want to, that at her slightest resistance, he’d let go.
But if she backed down, he might get the crazy idea that she was afraid of him. And that was unacceptable.
She expected him to pull her against him, told herself she wasn’t disappointed when he left inches between their bodies.
Used all her willpower not to close that distance between them herself.
“You shouldn’t be alone, Quinn,” he said, his low voice doing odd things to her stomach. The way he said her name messing with her mind.
His words causing her throat to tighten.
She chose to be alone. It was smarter, safer than counting on someone to be there for her.
But it was also lonely as hell.
And, oh, how it grated to admit that.
She stepped back and he dropped her wrist. “Actually,” she said, proud of her even tone, “I prefer being alone.”
Heart racing, skin tingling from his touch, she nonetheless managed to hold his gaze steadily.
After several long, agonizing moments, he finally nodded.
And walked away.
Just like she knew he would.
3
OVER AN HOUR LATER, Quinn locked Myer’s front door, tugged on it once, then turned and headed down the street.
“Where the hell is your car?”
She whirled around, her hand already digging into her purse for pepper spray. When she saw who it was, she considered giving him a good dose of the stuff anyway on principle alone.
“Xander! God. What is wrong with you? You don’t just...” She waved her hand like a lunatic, which made sense as she was feeling extremely off-kilter. “Jump out at a woman on a dark street. What are you, a psycho? Where did you even come from?” The street had been empty a moment ago, she was sure of it. “Don’t tell me, temporary civilian life is too boring for you, so you decided to do a little nighttime rappelling down the side of the bakery so you could scare the crap out of me.”
“Your car,” he ground out, shoulders rigid, expression set. “Where is it?”
She raised her eyebrows. “What’s your problem? I’m the one who just had a heart attack.”
“I waited to make sure you got to your car safely.” He stabbed a thumb in the direction of the empty parking lot. “Where is it?”
