More Than This

by Shannyn Schroeder

  Quinn sat at the table, staring at her pocket calendar while she sipped on her drink. Only two weeks left of school. If she was going to play hooky, she’d have to do it soon. But she had to prep the kids for finals. Why did Indy even put this on here? I get plenty of time off.

  Brian slid into the seat across from her. “What’s going on? I hear Shari Ackerman’s going to teach summer school in your spot.”

  Quinn shook her head. “Do you think she can handle it?”

  “What’s to handle? It’s three hours a day with a captive audience.”

  “I’ve taught that class for the last seven years. Those are not the bright, engaged students she’s used to teaching.” Quinn swallowed the bitterness of being passed over for the position Shari got. Quinn really wanted to teach the Honors classes.

  “Everyone’s got to start somewhere. Me, I’m going to start at the bar and work my way toward a game of darts.”

  Brian walked off and before she had the chance to refocus on her calendar, Ryan took Brian’s seat. “Good evening, Ms. Adams. Enjoying your night here at O’Leary’s?”

  “Jenna said you weren’t here.” She sat back and crossed her arms against her chest.

  “You came in looking for me?” He leaned forward at the table.

  “No.” Her eyes widened. “She assumed I was looking for you and offered the information.” She reached out and turned her glass in circles, avoiding his eyes.

  “What’s up? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “It’s only been a week.”

  “I’ve gotten used to you stopping by more often.”

  “I’ve been working. The end of the year is a busy time.” This was the third time she’d seen him since the kiss, and he’d said nothing.

  “What’s this?” He tapped her calendar.

  I guess we’re still ignoring the kiss. “I’m trying to choose the best day to play hooky.”

  Ryan’s laughter rose above the noise of the milling crowd. “You need more help than I thought. Sweetheart, a hooky day isn’t something you plan. You just do it. You don’t think about work. The day is supposed to be fun.”

  Quinn groaned and thumped her head on the table. “I can’t do that.”

  “Didn’t you ever cut class?”

  Quinn raised her head. “No. Perfect attendance all four years. Eight if you count college.”

  His crinkly-eyed smile returned. “Oddly, I’m not surprised by that fact. If you’re not comfortable with it, why are you doing it?”

  “Remember the list Indy and Kate created for me last week?” You know, the night you kissed me senseless one minute and moved on to a bimbo the next?

  He nodded and she continued, “The first item on the list is to play hooky.”

  “Playing hooky should not be stressful. Everyone does it. Lighten up. Pick a day and have fun. Your students will survive without you. Most of them have played hooky and can appreciate it.”

  She slammed her calendar shut. “Okay. Monday it is, then.”

  He shook his head again. “Not quite spur of the moment.”

  “Hey, I’m a work in progress.”

  Ryan hung up his phone. It had been his third call from his mother. She wanted to verify he was coming to family dinner. Colin’s home—time for a big celebration. It didn’t matter that Colin hadn’t accomplished anything over the last three years. Coming home was achievement enough. He rolled his shoulders to ease the tension.

  He left his office and stood in the hallway facing a decent-sized crowd, early for a Friday night. He took two steps into the bar and saw Quinn still sitting at the same table. He’d figured she would’ve left by now. She never had more than one drink with the other teachers. She only stayed late when she had a date. A tall blond man bent over and kissed her head. Ryan’s stomach clenched with the realization that she wasn’t pulling away.

  Had she actually found a decent date?

  He relaxed moments later when he took the time to recognize the man—he posed no threat.

  Ryan watched Quinn after the man left. She drummed her fingers on the table and sipped more alcohol. She pulled her phone from her pocket and opened and closed it. A frown creased her face. No one joined her. She spoke to no one.

  He took it as an invitation and sat across from her again. “The guy who left. You do know he’s gay, right?”

  “Huh? You mean Brian?” A giggle escaped. “Yes, he’s a friend from work.”

  “Just making sure your gaydar isn’t as broken as your asshole radar.”

  She straightened in her chair. “I think it’s time for me to go.”

  Ryan reached out to grab her hand. “Don’t take offense. I’m being a good wingman. It would ruin my reputation if I let you date a gay guy.”

  Quinn leaned back in her chair. Her head tilted to one side. He saw the unfocused glaze in her eyes. She’s drunk. “How’s the dating going?”

  A crooked smile etched her face. “Dating sucks. All the Internet sites that promise you’ll find someone special run at the sight of me. I give up.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She shook her head with a sigh. “I haven’t been having any luck with the dating site I signed up for. You’ve seen them. I don’t think I’m asking for too much. A guy with a job, at least average intelligence, and he has to be able to kiss. I can overlook a lot of things if a guy can lean in with a kiss to make me forget where I am. I don’t have it in me to work with a guy on his kissing.”

  Ryan snickered. “The guys you go out with can’t kiss?”

  “One guy was like a lizard. He kept jabbing his tongue in and out.” She flicked her tongue out repeatedly.

  Instead of laughing at how ridiculous she looked, Ryan had the urge to pull her close and give her a non-lizard kiss. Her tongue flicking made him imagine where else she might use it. He stared at her mouth, not hearing what she said.

  He blinked and refocused. “What’d you say?”

  She barreled on, unfazed. “So I tried to sign up with a different site. They wouldn’t even have me. I tortured myself honestly answering their tedious questionnaire, only to have them tell me I’m unmatchable.” She paused and gulped the last of her drink. “What the hell does that mean anyway? Am I unlovable because they can’t figure out with whom to pair me?”

  “I told you you’re looking in the wrong places. Real men don’t troll the Internet to find dates. We’re visual creatures. We like to see the product upfront.”

  “Thanks for the information. I’ll take it under advisement. Brian told me I’d find someone when I least expect it. With any luck, when he shows up, he’ll know how to kiss. Until then, maybe I need a break from dating.” She tugged her jacket off the back of the chair.

  He quickly stood and blocked her from getting up. “You’re not driving, are you?”

  “No, Officer Friendly. I’m not stupid. I came with Brian. I’ll call a cab, since it’s obvious my sister isn’t coming.” She pushed her chair from the table.

  Ryan held out a hand to help her up. “How much did you drink?”

  Her hand was cool and smooth in his and he didn’t want to let go.

  “Three of those. I think it was only three.” She jammed one arm into her jacket and fumbled to find the other side.

  He reached around and helped get her other arm through. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

  Tugging on the collar of her jacket to close it put him too close to her body. His thoughts wandered to being alone with her. He pulled back to keep a clear head.

  “No, thanks. I hardly know you. And I’m pretty buzzed. What if you turn out to be a creep?”

  “I would never take advantage of a woman who has had too much to drink. Ever.” His sharp tone had her head snapping up from fumbling with the buttons on her jacket. He smoothed his tone. “You know me well enough. Better than these guys you’ve been meeting.”

  He tugged her sleeve. “Come on. It’ll give us a chance to get to know each other. I’m a better wing
man for friends than acquaintances.”

  She flipped open her phone and dialed. After a moment, she spoke quietly. “Hey, call me in twenty to make sure I got home okay. Yeah. Bye.”

  When she closed the phone, Ryan handed her a glass of water. “Drink this before we go. It’ll help.”

  Quinn gulped it quickly. “Leave it to the barman to know all the tricks.”

  He grabbed her elbow and guided her through the maze of patrons. Right now, he had a golden opportunity to be alone with Quinn.

  Ryan shepherded her to his SUV in the parking lot. It was a vehicle he used for bar business more than anything. If she puked, he’d rather it happened in the SUV than his personal car. Although she walked with her head held high, Quinn wobbled. He continued his hold on her arm to make sure she didn’t fall.

  “Where do you live?” he asked.

  “You know those industrial buildings on Laramie they turned into lofts a few years ago? I live on the fifth floor.”

  He opened the passenger door and helped her slide in. Trendy neighborhood. Not a far trip at all. He’d be there within ten minutes. He’d hoped to have more time to get to know her. Maybe he could get her to agree to a date while she was drunk. A little underhanded, but he’d take it.

  “Tell me about yourself,” he prompted.

  “What do you wanna know?”

  Her usual prim and proper voice had slipped into the realm of easygoing. It was a side of her he’d like to see more. “Anything. Were you born here in the city? Have you lived here your whole life? Do you have family other than the sister who blew you off tonight?”

  “Slow down on the darn questions, would ya? My brain can’t move fast with so much liquor swirling around.” She inhaled deeply. “I was born in southern Illinois. I moved here with Indy for college. She’s my only sister. My dad still lives down south, so we don’t see each other often.”

  They rode silently for the next few blocks. Ryan thought she dozed off, but then she spoke again. “How long did you go out with Indy?”

  Surprise made him swerve the car. “Indy? Indy and I didn’t date.”

  “Oh.” She became quiet again until the wrinkles of confusion on her face smoothed. “It’s your turn. Tell me about you.”

  “I’ve been in Chicago my whole life. I come from a big family. Six kids including me. My father died a few years ago.”

  “Sorry. My mom died when I was seventeen. It sucks.”

  She straightened in her seat as the car stopped. Quinn fumbled for the handle and flung the door open. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Wait. Let me walk you up.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She swung her legs out and pushed against the door frame to stand.

  Ryan stood beside her before she stepped away to close the door. “I want to make sure you get in safely. Then I promise I’ll leave you.”

  “Trying to be chivalrous to trick me into dating you? Won’t work.”

  She allowed him to take her keys from her hand and help her to the door.

  “What will work? One date and if we’re not compatible, I’ll leave you alone.”

  “I told you I don’t date guys I meet at a bar, especially the ones who work there.” She pointed to the elevator that looked like the original from the building’s warehouse days.

  “What have you got to lose? You said the Internet dating thing wasn’t working.” A rumble and thunk echoed in the empty hall as the elevator arrived.

  “If I waste my time with you, I might miss the guy I’m supposed to meet. The one who can kiss me and make me forget where I am.” She stepped in ahead of him.

  Was she implying his kiss didn’t cut it? Not possible. Instead of being angry at the accusation, he viewed it more as a dare. “I bet I can make you forget where you are.”

  She pushed the button for the fifth floor and turned to face him. “You could, but then you’d be too busy with whatever other woman is within a hundred yards. I think I’ll keep looking.”

  “Maybe I’m just casting a wide net like you are.” She didn’t respond and he paused for a moment. Maybe she was implying he wasn’t what she was looking for. Thinking back, every date he’d seen arrived in a suit. The last time he’d worn a suit was to his father’s funeral. “How can you find anyone if you don’t date? You said you were giving up. Taking yourself out of the game prevents a guy from kissing you, doesn’t it?”

  She smiled. “You have me there. I’ll think on it when I’m sober and get back to you.”

  She leaned against the wall as the elevator climbed floors. He held back the urge to pull her to lean into him. She still looked sad. Her pouty lips begged to be kissed. At the fifth floor, the elevator gave a little shudder before the doors slid open. Ryan continued to hold Quinn’s elbow as she led the way to her door. There were only two lofts on the floor. He jabbed the key into the locks and swung the door open.

  He waited, half hoping she would invite him in. She said nothing as she tossed the keys on a side table beside the door and hung her jacket on a hook. Her phone rang in her pocket. She fished it out and held up a finger to tell him to wait.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I made it home safe and sound. I even got an escort to my door.” She barked out a laugh. “Not gonna happen. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  She clicked the phone shut and turned her attention to him. “Thanks for bringing me home. I appreciate it.”

  “You could repay me by letting me take you out on a date.”

  “Sorry. I have a list to work on. Getting involved with you would be too complicated.” She pulled at the door to signal he should leave.

  “But we could be friends, though, right?”

  She nodded her head and smiled. “Sure.”

  It was her version of a brush-off, but he’d take what he could. “We can get together as friends for a cup of coffee.”

  “Maybe. I’m going to bed now. Thanks again.” She began to close the door, but he stopped it with his palm flat on the cool metal.

  “Drink at least one more glass of water before bed. It will help counteract the dehydration of the alcohol. The hangover might not be so bad.” His hand slid away from the door. “Bye.”

  “Bye. Thanks.”

  He waited in the hall until he heard the snick and chunk of her locks being thrown. Ryan walked back toward the elevator but spied a door leading to the stairwell. He had no desire to ride in the rattling death trap again. As he bounded down the flights of stairs, his mind raced. He wanted a date with Quinn Adams, and she would take careful planning.

  CHAPTER 4

  Quinn woke the following morning, early as usual, but felt sluggish. A slight throb ached over her eyes. She hadn’t slept much, but when she did, dreams plagued her. Images of Ryan had taken over her night.

  In the steam of the shower, she tried to convince herself it was the alcohol that wreaked havoc on her subconscious. Or was it the id? Either way, the sexy dreams filled her head. Her verbal diarrhea with Ryan hadn’t helped her anxiety level. She always talked too much when she drank.

  As she pulled on a tank top and shorts, she wondered at the thought of being an old maid. At what point would she become a spinster? The depressing thoughts grabbed her before she could push them away. Growing old alone frightened her.

  She knew what she needed, a temporary fix. Comfort Cookies—deep, dark, double-chocolate-chip cookies.

  Quinn yanked her hair into a small, high ponytail and entered her kitchen. Here, she could rid herself of the thoughts of men. She didn’t need them while she baked. Baking was a hobby, a solitary art, and she could focus on the measuring, the mixing, not Ryan.

  She pulled the ingredients she kept at the ready in the pantry. For her, these cookies were comfort food. She used to make them with her mom. And they made their way onto everyone’s list of favorites too.

  Quinn pulled out the different types of chocolate, bittersweet and unsweetened baker’s chocolate, and chopped the blocks into smaller pieces before dumping them into the double boile
r. The radio played as soft background noise. Between the smell of melting chocolate and the music, trying to push Ryan from her thoughts should have been easy.

  But it wasn’t.

  He’d been a total gentleman last night. Not that he hadn’t been in the past, but she’d expected him to try something, even if it was just to get her to agree to a date. But he didn’t push it. He was just being nice.

  While the chocolate began to melt, she cracked eggs into a bowl and began the task of mixing them with sugar. Sometimes she’d use her stand mixer, but today she wanted to mix by hand. It would take longer, and it utilized every muscle in her hand and arm. For her it was therapy. The rhythm of the whisk scraping the side of the bowl combined with the beat of the music. Her mind relaxed and let the sounds take her back to childhood.

  The ringing door buzzer startled her. Who would come to her house on a Saturday morning? She had few visitors regardless of time or day. She turned the flame lower on the chocolate so it wouldn’t scorch and pressed the call box. “Yes?”

  “Good morning, Quinn. It’s Ryan. Can I come up?”

  She rubbed the back of her hand over her cheek. Why was he here? She never should’ve let him drive her home. “Why?”

  “You said we could have coffee. I brought the coffee to you.”

  The end of the night blurred a bit, but she knew she hadn’t made a date. She sighed, knowing he wouldn’t disappear if she ignored him. She buzzed him up.

  Quinn waited nervously at her door for the elevator when the stairwell door flung open. She jumped and turned to see Ryan holding two paper cups. She crossed her arms over her chest to steady herself as the desire to bolt into her loft surged in her chest. She masked her face as well as she knew how. “Hi. I don’t remember making a date, most definitely not for today.”

  “I didn’t say we made a date for today. You said maybe we could have coffee sometime. I figured you might need coffee, so I stopped by before going to work. How are you feeling?”

  The tone of his voice always seemed like he had a joke he was dying to tell, and as it coasted over her, she felt the tense muscles in her shoulders relax.