More Than This

by Shannyn Schroeder

  He stood two short feet away, deep blue eyes smiling down at her. He smelled good. His aftershave mixed with the aroma of chocolate and caffeine. It was intoxicating. Then it hit her. This man was like her Comfort Cookies, without the calories. Way too good to be true.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Is now a bad time?”

  “Uh, no. I just started baking cookies.” She was torn. Invite him in or ask him to leave? She glanced over her shoulder, knowing she needed to mix the chocolate. “Come on in.”

  She kicked the door wider and walked back to the kitchen.

  “No hangover?”

  She couldn’t help but smirk. “No, someone suggested I drink lots of water before going to bed. It helped tremendously. I woke up with only a slight headache.” His visit doubly surprised her now because of the reason. He wanted to check on her?

  She kept her back to him as she tried to sort out this new information. She was beginning to see Ryan in a new light. He was a nice guy in addition to being charming. This could be her downfall. She turned the flame back up on the chocolate and gave it a stir.

  “Here.” Ryan reached from behind her and pushed a cup at her. His voice was hesitant, and if Quinn didn’t think it impossible, a little nervous. “I didn’t know how you take coffee, or if you even drink it. I took a chance on a light, sweet mocha. It smells like you like chocolate, so I think I did good.”

  Quinn accepted the cup and inhaled deeply. She leaned the spoon on the edge of the pan. “You can never go wrong with chocolate.” She took a small sip, allowing the caffeine to hit her system. As the warm, chocolatey coffee slid across her tongue, thick and rich, she closed her eyes and let a small moan of ecstasy escape her throat.

  Ryan laughed quietly and her eyes popped open.

  “Thank you. This is really good.”

  “Sounds like it.” He looked around the mess on her counters. “Can I help?”

  “Huh?”

  “Making cookies. Can I help?”

  Could he? The only person she’d ever baked with besides her mother was Indy. And Indy usually just ate the raw dough. She’d always enjoyed the solitary nature of it, but here was Ryan asking to be included in this personal process. Behind him, her list glared at her.

  Step out of your comfort zone.

  “Sure.” She handed him a spoon. “Stir the chocolate until it’s a smooth pool of yumminess.”

  “Sounds easy enough.”

  “It’s not difficult, but if you don’t pay attention, the chocolate will burn.” Quinn turned back and mixed flour, baking powder, and a pinch of salt in a separate bowl. She tried to ignore his presence without being rude.

  “Do you bake a lot?”

  “I don’t know if I’d say a lot, but I like to bake. It’s relaxing, especially when I have stuff to think about.”

  “What else do you do for fun?”

  She remained quiet for a minute. What did she do for fun? “I like to read.”

  But even that wasn’t always for fun. More often than not, she read something related to teaching. “I like to watch reality TV.”

  “Like Survivor?”

  “No, more like The Bachelor.”

  He huffed out a sound of disgust. “That is not reality.”

  “I know that. But for the most part, it’s regular people. They just spend an inordinate amount of time doing stupid crap. It’s fun to watch and doesn’t require anything from me.” She turned to check on the chocolate. “How’s the chocolate?”

  “Looks melted to me.” He scooped the spoon through the lake of chocolate and lifted it to show the smooth drizzle. “Now what?”

  She turned off the flame. “Dump the chocolate into the egg mixture I already made.”

  He grasped the handle of the top pot of the double boiler and poured the chocolate over the batter.

  After the chocolate was incorporated with the eggs and butter, she added the dry ingredients slowly. When it was all mixed, she said, “Now we fold it together with the chocolate chips so it stays kind of fluffy. We don’t want to beat it.”

  One eyebrow shot high on his forehead and she knew she lost him. Dumping chocolate he understood, folding it was a different matter. “Like this.”

  She used her spatula and gently folded the chocolate in.

  “I can handle that.” He reached for the spatula and his hand brushed hers.

  The charge between them startled her. He stood so close she thought for sure he was going to kiss her again. She stepped quickly to the side to let him access the bowl.

  She stood on tiptoe and pulled down her stoneware cookie sheets. The stone was smooth and shiny from years of use. They were heavy, but they gave her perfect cookies every time.

  “All mixed. Now what?”

  Ryan looked like a kid baking for the first time. He displayed his excitement on his face. Most guys would be bored or would only care about the finished product. Ryan was enjoying the process.

  Rather than take over, she handed him the cookie scoop. “Scoop the dough and plop it on the pan. Leave space between the cookies. You should get a dozen per pan.”

  He played with the scoop for a minute, squeezing the handle to get an understanding of how it worked. “Like scooping ice cream.”

  “Yep.” She eased onto a stool and watched him drop dough on the pans. It was weird teaching Ryan to bake Comfort Cookies. She’d always imagined that the first person she’d teach would be her own child.

  “Have you decided what you’re doing on Monday?”

  His question brought her back to the kitchen, away from her thoughts. “Monday?”

  “You’re playing hooky, right?”

  “Oh, that. I have no idea what I’m going to do.”

  He finished filling the two pans and she slid them into the preheated oven. After setting the timer, she returned to her stool. What was she supposed to talk about now?

  “I bet my sister Moira would love these cookies. She loves everything chocolate, and there appears to be about a hundred kind in these.”

  Within minutes, the inviting smell of chocolate filled her kitchen. “You’re more than welcome to take some with you. You can tell her that you made them yourself.” She dipped a finger into the remaining batter. “A good cookie always starts with good dough. This is Indy’s favorite part.” She licked her finger. “Sometimes we don’t even get a second batch in the oven. We just lick the bowl clean.” Dipping her finger in again, she felt his eyes on her. “Try some. It won’t hurt you.”

  His hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist. He guided her finger to his lips and licked the batter off. Jolts of pleasure ran up her arm and her eyes widened.

  He did not just do that.

  She yanked her hand away. “Wh-What are you doing?”

  He shrugged with one of his careless smiles. “Trying the cookie dough. I didn’t think you’d want my grubby hands in the bowl.”

  The innocent look on his face baffled her. Did he really not mean anything by that? He made no other move. He’d been nothing more than friendly the entire time he’d been there. Maybe she was reading more into his actions.

  His phone chirped. He pulled it out and checked the screen. His brows furrowed and his lips tightened.

  “Problem?”

  “A text from my sister. I’m being summoned to my mom’s house.”

  “You don’t look too happy about it.” Other than mentioning his sister earlier, he hadn’t done much talking about himself. She wondered if he was hiding something. He said he had a big family, but that didn’t mean he liked them.

  “It’s not that. They’re changing plans again, that’s all. I have to juggle some stuff.” He tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Unfortunately, that means I have to head out now.”

  Disappointment hit her quickly before she swiped it away. “Can’t you wait for the cookies? They’ll be ready any minute.”

  “I better not. Save some for me.” He headed to the door and she followed.

  “Thanks
again for the coffee,” she said.

  “I told you I knew how to be friends. Thanks for letting me hang out with you. Talk to you soon.”

  She stared after him as he moved through the stairwell door. He made a hasty departure. She smiled at the kindness of his visit. There was definitely more to Ryan O’Leary than she’d thought.

  In the kitchen, the timer went off, and she removed the cookies from the oven and set them out to cool.

  Quinn sipped at the last of the decadent brew Ryan had brought. The essays in her bag needed to be graded, but she ignored them. She thought long and hard about her life. By now, she was supposed to have what Kate had: a house, a husband, and kids. Her first marriage had been a joke, and she couldn’t even find an adequate date. But she still wanted children.

  Eyeing the list tacked to her refrigerator above the artwork created by Kate’s kids, Quinn thought of the possibility of starting a family. As soon as school let out, she’d seriously start making plans. Adoption, in vitro, artificial insemination . . . There was a lot to consider, but if she could handle the list Indy made, she could conquer anything.

  Sunday afternoon, Ryan sat at his desk, sucking down his third cup of coffee. The numbers on the spreadsheet in front of him blurred. The family dinner usually held on Sundays had turned into a whole-day affair on Saturday to give Colin a proper welcome home. Of all the things to pull him away from Quinn, he didn’t think Colin had been worth it.

  He didn’t believe Colin had reappeared out of some sense of family. He wanted something, but Ryan couldn’t figure out what. As much as he’d wanted to press the issue last night, their mother had been too happy to have Colin home.

  Colin’s appearance made his mother happy, but Ryan couldn’t handle the gushing and fussing. He couldn’t wait to escape the family dinner. Claiming bar business, he’d thought he could get away. Colin following him to O’Leary’s last night had not been part of the plan. He’d successfully avoided Colin for the two weeks he’d been home. He knew it had been too good to last. His brother closed the place drinking with friends he hadn’t seen in years.

  Ryan couldn’t wipe the image from his mind. It was like being stuck in a time warp. Part of him had expected their dad to walk in and yell at Colin. Ryan drank last night to forget the grief Colin had caused Dad. Ryan was still paying for it.

  His office door opened and Ryan lifted his eyes expecting to see Mary. Instead, Eileen O’Leary stood in front of him. “Hi, Mom. What’re you doing here?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  Shit. He didn’t need any more on his plate. His mother sat in the chair in front of his desk.

  “You need to give Colin a chance.” As usual, his mother offered no preamble or small talk; she got straight to the point.

  “To do what? Fuck up everyone’s lives instead of just his?”

  “Watch your mouth. He’s your brother.”

  Ryan inhaled through his nose and reined in his anger. Lashing out at his mother would solve nothing. “He’s the one who left.”

  “He’s back. And he’s staying. He’s moved back home.”

  Figures. Colin always took a free ride. Ryan looked at his mother. She sat straight in the visitor’s chair, hands folded in her lap, and ice in her eyes. She wasn’t about to let this go.

  “What do you expect from me?”

  “He needs help finding his way. He thought going out on his own would make it happen. He’s as lost now as he ever was.”

  Ryan shook his head. Colin wasn’t lost; he was lazy.

  “He’s not like you, Ryan. You were always driven to succeed. Picked what you wanted and fought for it. Colin has a harder time figuring out what he wants.”

  “Did he tell you all this?”

  “He didn’t need to.”

  Ryan huffed and rolled his eyes. Eileen slapped a hand on his desk. “I know my boy. Just as I know you want to make him pay for not being here.”

  It amazed him how quickly the brogue blasted from her lips whenever she was angry. He’d lived with it his whole life, but never got used to it. The Irish brogue was a beautiful lilt in the mouths of his cousins, but from his own mother, it was venom-filled.

  He had no choice but to give her what she asked. “I’ll try, Mom. That’s all I can promise.”

  She stood. “He’s family, Ryan. Your brother. You have to do more than try. Your father would want you to make it right. He’d expect no less.”

  She left as quietly as she came. Good old Mom. She didn’t care if it was a low blow to pull out the guilt card. Irish Catholics were masters.

  Monday morning, six-fifteen, and Quinn lay wide-awake. Her stomach churned. She held her phone in her hand and hit speed dial.

  “What?” Indy answered groggily.

  “I did it. I called in sick. Now what?”

  “Go back to sleep. I’ll call you at a decent hour.” She hung up.

  “Great. Her brilliant idea and she won’t talk to me.” Quinn tossed the phone on her nightstand and rolled over.

  Three hours later, her phone rang. She reached for it and stopped. What if it was school? Would she have to pretend to be sick? Could she? She blew her bangs off her forehead and crumpled the dust rag in her hand.

  Her heart thumped nervously as she waited for the machine to answer.

  Indy’s voice called, “Hey, Quinn. It’s me. Are you there?”

  Quinn picked up the line. “I’m here.”

  “Too bad. You’re supposed to be out having fun. What are you doing?”

  She tossed the rag on the table. “Spring cleaning I put off.”

  “Oh, God. You are such a sad case. You do not take a sick day to clean. You need to go do something.”

  “Like what?”

  “Look, I have a couple of showings scheduled for this morning and a closing this afternoon. Keep yourself busy, with fun, and we’ll do something together later. Don’t you have any other friends to hang out with?”

  “They’re all at work. Where I should be. I called Kate, but Kyra’s sick. The only people I know with flexible jobs are you and Nick.”

  “Do not call Nick.”

  “I didn’t say I’d call him.” But the thought had crossed her mind. Her ex was always good for having fun.

  “My clients are coming. Find something fun to do. I’ll call you soon.”

  Quinn turned back to her bookshelf. She’d finish what she started and then find something fun.

  Ryan stood outside Quinn’s loft. He reminded himself they were hanging out as friends. She wasn’t ready to accept anything else from him, regardless of how hot their kiss was or the continued chemistry they shared. He rang the bell, but she didn’t answer. He rang again.

  “Hello?” she questioned hesitantly.

  “Hey, Quinn. It’s Ryan.”

  She didn’t respond, but the buzzer sounded, allowing him entrance. He eyed the elevator and chose the stairs.

  Her door was open, and Quinn wasn’t standing in the doorway. It was an improvement over his last visit. Country music floated quietly from the kitchen. Quinn stood on a step stool wiping down the binding of each book on the shelf before setting it aside.

  This is worse than I thought.

  Without looking at him, Quinn asked, “Why are you here?”

  “Indy called me—”

  “That’s what I figured. You can leave. I’m fine.”

  She scrubbed furiously at the shelf, ponytail on her head bobbing in rhythm. The cotton pants hung loosely on her legs but contoured to the shape of her behind. The baggy T-shirt did nothing for him. Her feet, however, with red-painted toes were incredibly sexy.

  He’d told Indy he’d leave if Quinn told him to. He’d lied. “Why don’t you go shower and change, and we’ll get out of here?”

  “I don’t need your pity date.”

  “It’s not pity. And it’s not a date. We’re a couple of friends playing hooky and spending the day together.” He leaned against the arm of the couch. As often as he fixed
things for his family, he could help her too.

  Quinn turned and looked at him suspiciously, but stepped off the stool. Dust rag balled in her hand, she crossed her arms. “Thank you for the ride home Friday night and the coffee Saturday. It was really nice of you, but I don’t think we can be friends.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you kissed me.”

  “We don’t have to stop being friends because we kissed.” He straightened and stepped closer.

  Her eyes met his. “You kissed me. I don’t know how to do the friends with benefits thing.”

  He barely stopped his laugh. She would bolt if he laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me. But I said nothing about benefits. Just friends.” He extended his hand to shake.

  Quinn took his hand tentatively. Hers trembled. For a woman who kept cool and reserved, the slight motion hinted at something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

  Ryan rocked back on his heels. “You can’t cross this off your list if you spend the day cleaning.”

  “You sound like Indy.” She blew her bangs up and out of her eyes.

  “It’s a good thing you have me. Go change.”

  She measured him and sank her teeth into her bottom lip. White teeth against pink flesh stirred his blood.

  “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.” He hadn’t yet figured out what fun they could have with their clothes on.

  “That doesn’t work for me.”

  “Too bad.” He sat on the couch and propped his right ankle on his left knee.

  “Then I’m not going.” She recrossed her arms.

  “I’ll drag you out of here looking like that, lemon furniture polish scent and all. It’s your choice.”

  “You can’t drag me.”

  He leaned forward and cocked an eyebrow. “Wanna bet?”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Her challenge made him want to go all caveman and throw her over his shoulder just to prove he could. “I would.” He rose from the couch and she stumbled back.

  “Fine. I’m going upstairs.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  She stomped up the stairs and closed a door. Ryan took the time to do what he hadn’t done on Saturday—explore Quinn’s loft. The main floor was basically a wide-open space with the ceiling at the second floor. Windows lined one wall, bookshelves another. She had more books in piles in various places in the room. A desk tucked in the corner near the stairs held her laptop.