“Why not? So you can spend your evenings looking at my ass and wondering if I’m wearing panties?”
“Maddie, you’re deliberately misunderstanding me.”
“No, I think I understand you perfectly.” She opened the door wider. “Good night, Quinn.”
He stood there for a long moment, frustration and hunger written on his face. Then he stormed out the door. “Don’t wear that skirt again.”
“I’ll wear anything I damn well please.”
THE TOWN WAS DESERTED as Quinn drove back. He pulled over to the side of the road and stopped in front of the Harp. I thought I knew you, but I don’t know you at all. What was she talking about? They knew each other as well as two people could.
He stared at the ruins of his pub. He needed to get a grip, to figure out how to put the pieces of his life back together, but all he could think about was Maddie. You’re a coward who’s afraid of getting hurt again.
Only a fool made the same mistakes more than once. He knew better than to let down his guard. He knew where it could lead.
When dawn was a hint of light on the horizon, he reached into the glove box and pulled out a flashlight. Then he walked across the street to the Harp.
It smelled of wet, burned wood and acrid smoke. The shattered front window opened into inky darkness. It was probably unsafe as hell in there.
Quinn stepped through the window and switched on his flashlight. Skeletons of chairs lay on their sides, shoved into piles with the tables from the force of the fire hoses. The granite bar he’d found in an old pub in Milwaukee was cracked and blackened. Some of the shelves of liquor bottles had fallen, littering the area behind the bar with broken glass. The cupboards above the mirror were either hanging crookedly or had fallen altogether. The top two shelves were intact, however. The glass in some of the doors was missing, but bottles fogged from the heat were still lined up there, the last ghostly reminders of normalcy.
He made his way through the debris to the kitchen. The damage wasn’t as severe here; stainless steel didn’t burn as easily as wood. His light picked out the grill, the freezer, the refrigerator. All looked relatively untouched. Maybe they could be salvaged if—
Nope, the Harp was gone. All that was left to do was to sweep up the remains and carry them away.
As he aimed the flashlight behind the bar, he saw his old bottle of Jameson in the middle cupboard. Untouched. Glass crunched beneath his shoes as he walked behind the ruined bar, reached up and took it down.
The bottle felt gritty, but it was still half-full. He remembered the bite of the whiskey in his mouth, remembered how it had washed his memories into oblivion.
You’re wallowing in the past.
He tightened his grip around the neck of the bottle, then made his way outside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A CAR DOOR SLAMMED in his driveway, and Quinn stirred.
As he lifted his head from the kitchen table, the first thing he saw was the bottle of Jameson he’d set there the night before. Still half-full.
He’d done it. On one of the worst nights of his life, he hadn’t taken a drink.
It had been a struggle, but the whiskey was still here. And so was he.
Someone pounded on his door. Quinn took a deep breath, his heart suddenly racing. “What?”
“Open the door, Murphy.”
“Get lost, Paul.” Quinn slumped into his seat again. Had he really thought it would be Maddie?
“Not going to happen. I need to tell you something.” The door thumped in its frame, and Quinn realized Paul had settled against it.
Quinn shoved his chair backward. He flung the door open and Paul fell in. “You’re a pain in the ass, Black.”
“So you’ve said.” Paul looked around the room and stilled when he spotted the Jameson. “Aw, damn it, Quinn.”
“It’s not what it looks like,” he said.
“No? You were sleeping with the bottle, for God’s sake. The imprint of the kitchen table is still on your face.”
“I didn’t take a drink.”
Paul shrugged. “Not my business if you want to kill yourself. Some people might be upset, though.”
“No, she wouldn’t.” Quinn threw himself back into his chair.
Paul pulled up another and sat down, while Quinn scrubbed his face with his hands. It felt as if all the dust and smoke from the Harp had settled in his eyes. He closed them tight. “I screwed up,” he finally said. He’d stared at the bottle for hours until he’d understood.
“Hey, you’re making progress. That’s more than you knew last night.” There was no blame or censure in Paul’s voice.
“Yeah. I’m real smart. Quick, too.”
“So you’re a slow learner. Maddie might decide you’re trainable.”
Quinn stared out the window, to see the sun was high in the sky. It had to be past noon, and he wondered what she was doing. “I was a jerk again last night,” he said quietly. “I hurt her.”
“At the Harp?” Paul asked. “I doubt she noticed you watching her rear end.”
“She noticed. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“What, then?”
Quinn told his friend what he’d done.
“I have to hand it to you, Quinn,” Paul said when he’d finished. “When you screw up, it’s not a half-assed effort. So what are you going to do about it?”
“Apologize.” Knowing Maddie, she’d probably slam the door in his face.
“And then…?”
“Then what?”
“What are you going to do after you apologize?” Paul said patiently. “For God’s sake, Quinn. You don’t think you’re going to waltz in, tell Maddie you’re sorry, and it’ll be all hearts and flowers again, do you?”
Yeah, he had. “Um, tell her I’m a jerk?”
“Trust me, she already knows. Are you going to make some kind of commitment to her? Is that what she wants? Is it what you want?”
“How the hell should I know?” he answered. “It took me all night to figure this much out.” It felt as if every one of his nerves was exposed. “What did you come over here for, anyway? You said you had to tell me something.”
Paul studied him for a moment, then nodded. Clearly, he realized that they were done with all the touchy-feely crap. “Cal Hodges has been trying to call you. He got worried when you didn’t answer your phone.”
Quinn pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Not charged.”
“Yeah, I figured. I volunteered to come out and make sure you were okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“God knows. Your life is perfect right now. You own a thriving business and you’re in a relationship with a great woman. Come on, Quinn.” Paul nodded at the bottle of Jameson. “Everyone knows you used to be a drinker. No one would be shocked if you’d started again.”
I can’t bear to be around you.
Quinn touched the bottle, then stood up. “Why was Cal trying to get hold of me?”
“They know who burned down your pub.” Quinn spun around to face Paul. “And they’re pretty sure they know where to find him.”
“Tell me.”
“Someone reported a prowler near J. D. Stroger’s house, and they found a gas can in J.D.’s garbage.”
“J.D.? Really? He’s an obnoxious drunk, but I didn’t figure him for burning the Harp down.”
“It wasn’t him. It was Andre.” Paul shook his head. “You have to give the little bastard credit. He knew J.D. had trouble the last couple times he was in the Harp. That’s why Andre threw the can in his garbage. But the dumbass didn’t wipe the can down. His fingerprints were all over it.”
“They haven’t arrested him?”
“His wife kicked him out after you fired him, and someone said he was staying with a cousin in Sturgeon Falls. Cal sent Jed Miller to check it out.”
The Harp was gone because of an angry, vindictive employee. “Thanks for letting me know.” Quinn opened the refrigerator and stare
d inside to signal that it was time for Paul to leave.
His friend didn’t take the hint. “Have you contacted your insurance agent yet?”
“Yeah, I called her the next day.” Quinn slammed the refrigerator door. “She said I’d be getting a check soon for the equipment and furnishings. Maddie will get a sum for the building, since she’s the owner.” He’d give his check to Maddie in an instant as a down payment for the land, but he suspected that option was gone.
“There’s talk in town about holding a recall election to get rid of Gordon. People are pissed off about YourMarket, and they know he wants them to set up shop in town. You should run for mayor.”
“I can’t be mayor,” Quinn said automatically.
“Why not?”
“I wouldn’t know what to do.”
Paul shrugged. “It’s not that tough. You can learn on the job. The only requirement is caring about this town. About the people. And you do. You’re a leader. People listen to you.”
He was a leader? “That’s not my thing.”
“What is your thing? Sitting alone in your house, drinking?”
“I don’t drink anymore.” The Jameson would always call to him, but he was done answering. “I’m sure you can come up with a better choice. Why don’t you run? You’re involved in everything in Otter Tail.”
“Can’t do that,” Paul said. “My job is to fight the man. If I’m the mayor, I am the man.”
“You’re a barrel of laughs.”
“Think about it.” Paul opened the door. “I’ll see you tonight at the Harp South, right?”
“I’ll be there.” Where else would he be?
The sound of Paul’s car faded away into silence. Quinn’s neck was stiff and it felt as if the Russian army had marched through his mouth in their socks. He was getting too old to fall asleep at the kitchen table.
After showering and shaving, he felt only marginally better. Maddie’s face haunted him. He couldn’t forget her shattered expression when she’d realized he’d just been looking for sex.
He had to make things right with her. He needed to apologize.
He needed to know if she truly believed in second chances.
THE SUN BURNED her shoulders and waves of heat reflected off the asphalt as Maddie struggled up the hill on County U. Even the pine-scented air tasted flat, like a glass of water left sitting on the counter too long.
Stupid to go for a run. She had too many other things to do. But she was addicted, and her addiction had to be fed.
Better to satisfy her craving for running than her old dependence on food.
She shouldn’t have picked this hill, though. It was where Quinn had found her that day. Bet her she couldn’t beat him. Suckered her into working at the Harp.
What was wrong with her? Why had she come this way?
She was a glutton for punishment.
Stupid, on top of that, to save the hill for the end of her run, when her muscles were already burning. But then, she had done a lot of things backward since she’d come to Otter Tail. Like fall in love with a man, then find out who he really was.
She heard the low rumble of an engine behind her and moved to the shoulder of the road. She stepped on a stone and felt a sharp pang as her ankle twisted, but she didn’t slow down.
She didn’t want company right now. She didn’t want to have to smile and be sociable.
Instead of accelerating to pass her, though, the car slowed. She glanced over her shoulder and her heart stuttered at the sight of Quinn’s truck.
He pulled up beside her and leaned out the window. “You’re still running without water.” He held a bottle out the window. It was misty with condensation, and she realized how thirsty she was. She’d been trying to outrun her pain and had headed out without thinking.
“Take it, Maddie,” he said when he saw her hesitate. “I didn’t poison it.”
She bit back the sharp retort she wanted to make, and took the bottle. “Thank you.” She unscrewed the cap and drank deeply.
“You need a keeper,” Quinn said when she’d finished.
She was sure he wasn’t volunteering for the job. “I’ll put up a notice on Craigslist,” she said, pleased at how cool her voice sounded.
“Smart-ass.” Quinn jumped out of his truck and she backed into the shade of the trees lining the road. No sense in broiling in the sun.
“How did you know where I was?”
“I went to your house. When you weren’t there, I went into the Cherry Tree and asked if anyone had seen you. Jen saw you go by in your running shorts.” He looked down at the hill she’d just climbed. “I followed your regular route.”
Maddie shrugged, as if she had forgotten all about their last encounter here. “It’s the best place around for a challenging run.”
He stood in front of her, blocking her way. If she wanted to leave, she’d have to push him aside. Since she didn’t want to touch him, she’d have to talk to him. “What do you want, Quinn?”
“A couple of things. First, I don’t care what Paul says, I didn’t drink the Jameson.”
“What are you talking about? I haven’t seen Paul since last night at the Harp South.”
He sighed. “I should have kept my mouth shut. But Paul is such a do-gooder, I figured he’d tell you.”
“What about the Jameson?”
“It’s not important.”
“Since you brought it up, I think it is.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “I took my bottle of Jameson home with me.”
She instinctively reached out to him, then dropped her hand when she realized what she’d done. “Why?”
“It’s the bottle I was working on when I quit drinking. I kept it at the Harp. On the top shelf. To remind me. I figured if I could get through last night without taking a drink, I could handle anything.”
“And did you?”
“Yeah.” He held her gaze, and she couldn’t look away. “But I was tempted. Sometimes oblivion is attractive.”
“I know all about needing to forget.”
“When have you ever needed oblivion?”
She wiped the sweat from the side of her face with one arm and looked at him wearily. “I was a fat girl, Quinn. I ate because it made me feel good, when nothing else in my life did. My mother didn’t really want a kid. I couldn’t control that. She made me come up here in the summer, and I couldn’t control that, either. But I could control what I ate.”
Birds chattered in the trees behind them and a cow lowed in the distance. “Thank you for telling me that,” he said quietly.
She lifted one shoulder. “You’re not the only one who has baggage.”
She tried to push past him, but he stepped in front of her. “Don’t go.”
“Why not? Did you come to tell me you didn’t take a drink last night, even though you were tempted? Good for you. That’s great. But you need to get your attaboys from your mentor at AA. Not me.”
“God, you’re tough.” He shoved his hair off his forehead. “That’s not why I was looking for you. I’m not even sure why I told you about the Jamesons, except that I figured Paul said something.”
Maybe because he wanted to share more of himself with her? Forget it. Quinn had been very clear about where he stood on intimacy. “You said there were a couple of things.” She stretched one leg, then the other. To show she was ready to start running again. That she knew this was just a minor break in her routine.
Quinn’s eyes darkened as he watched her, then he lifted his gaze. “I came to apologize for last night. I hurt you. Again. That’s the last thing I want to do.”
“Really? Seemed like that was exactly what you were trying to do. Especially the night the Harp burned down.”
“I was scared, Maddie,” he said in a low voice. “Of what I felt for you. About you. What I wanted.”
Her heart began to pound. “Really? And what was that? Besides more sex.”
“You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?”
>
The memory was too fresh to ignore. “It does seem to be the theme running through our relationship. Oh, sorry, you don’t do those, do you? I guess I should have said our booty call.”
“Can you stop with the smart mouth? I’m trying to make things right here,” he said quietly. “I’m trying to say I’m sorry.”
Her smart mouth was the only way she could protect herself. “Is that it?”
“No.” He reached out a hand as if to touch her, then let it drop. “I want a second chance with you, Maddie. I want to figure out how to make this work.”
“What is this?”
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” When she didn’t answer, he shoved his hand through his hair again. “The thing is, I think I could fall in love with you. I think we could have a relationship. Or more.”
He thought he could fall in love with her? What had the past few weeks been about, if not falling in love with each other?
“You make it sound as if it’s a distasteful chore.” She focused on a bird’s nest in a tree. An empty one. It looked tattered and sad, as if it had been abandoned long ago. “The thing is, Quinn, I am in love with you. And I’m not willing to settle for maybes. Maybe you could love me? Maybe we could have a future together? I can’t give you my heart and hope you don’t reject me again.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going back to Chicago. I have to get my life there straightened out. My friend Hollis needs her money, and I got the check from the insurance company today. That will pay what I owe her. But I still have to settle with the contractors.”
“You love me, but you won’t let me make this right? You won’t let me fix what I did?” There was an edge of desperation in Quinn’s voice.
“I don’t have a choice.” Every fiber of her wanted to stay. Wanted to throw herself at Quinn. But she was worth more than that. “I can’t force you to care about me. I’ve tried to do that too many times in my life, and I’m not doing it again.”
“So you’re running.”
“What can I say? It’s what I do best.”
“Then all that talk about everyone deserving a second chance was just crap. Something you said to make me feel better, but didn’t really mean.”
An Unlikely Setup Page 18
