by Susan Stoker
“You weren’t adopted?”
“No.”
“Right. You do know that, as you age, your birthmark is most likely going to get darker? That it will get dark red, then maybe even purple. And nodules will most likely form as well.”
Quinn shuddered. She knew. She hadn’t lied when she’d told the doctor she’d done research on her affliction. She simply nodded.
The doctor’s voice gentled. “I know you don’t know me from Adam, and you have no reason to trust what I’m saying, but you do have remarkable skin. It’s still smooth, and if you were my patient, I’d one hundred percent recommend pulsed dye laser treatments before you get any older. It’s an outpatient procedure, and most patients don’t even need an anesthetic, other than cooling the skin. You’d need to undergo several treatments over a period of a few months, and it won’t ever go away completely, but the lasers can make the stain paler. I’d have to examine you and get a full medical history, but from what I can see, you’d make a perfect candidate.”
Quinn stilled. She’d do the treatment today if she could. She wasn’t one of those women who refused to alter her body. She wanted the birthmark gone. She hated it. From the second she’d been born, the damn thing had made her life a living hell. Hearing Doctor Ballard’s words was akin to someone holding a carrot just out of reach.
As if knowing she was on the verge of tears, John reached out and took the business card the doctor was holding out. “Her job and life is here in Texas. How long do the treatments take?”
“The laser treatments themselves don’t take that long. You could fly out and have the treatment on a Friday and go home on Sunday. You’d need to do several treatments, two to four weeks apart. The short intervals have been proven to have more satisfactory results. History shows that because your stain is on the side of your cheek and your neck, the chance of success is even higher. You would have bruising after each treatment, however. This isn’t an instant miracle cure. But I can guarantee that when everything is said and done, it’ll be a lot less noticeable.”
“And insurance?” John asked.
Doctor Ballard winced. “That’s a crapshoot. Many insurance companies see this as elective treatment.”
Quinn looked down at her lunch tray. She knew that. It was why she hadn’t had it done before now. She simply didn’t have the money it would take to have all the treatments she needed. It was silly to get her hopes up.
“With that said,” the doctor went on, “I believe I can get Ms. Dixon a grant. Again, I’d need an in-depth medical history, and she’d have to consent to having a complete physical done at my clinic in California, but from what I’m seeing right now, she’s an anomaly. And anomalies are good in my world. If she agreed to let me write an article on her case and treatment—all anonymous, of course—I have a feeling I could easily get a medical grant to pay for the treatment.”
And just like that, the carrot was once again within reach.
“I can see I just dropped a huge bombshell on you, and for that, I’m sorry. But, Quinn…you are a beautiful woman. I know you might not feel that way, and you likely aren’t treated that way, but trust me when I say that you’re one of the lucky ones. I hope you’ll be in touch.”
And with that, Doctor Ballard got up from the table, his lunch untouched in his hands, and headed for the area where the trays were dropped off. He already had his cell phone out and was talking into it.
Quinn gave John a stunned look.
He didn’t smile. “You okay?”
She nodded, but said, “No.”
At that, his lips quirked upward. “It looks like you’ve got some thinking to do. We’ll get references, make sure he knows what he’s doing and that he has a good reputation. We’ll find out more about this study he wants to do too. There’s no way I’m going to let you be anyone’s guinea pig.” He ran his hand over the unblemished side of her face. “All I want is for you to be happy, Emmy. I can’t say that I know what you’re thinking or what you’ve been through in your life, but I agree with the doctor on one thing.”
“What?”
“That you’re beautiful.”
Quinn resisted the urge to snort. “Oh, yeah, the beauty magazines are beating down my door to get me to model for them.”
John didn’t smile. “I know you don’t believe me, but you are. Your eyes are amazing. Your skin is soft and smooth. You have a body that I’ve been doing my best not to gawk at whenever I’m near you. Yeah, you have a birthmark, but, Emmy, beauty is only skin deep. Cliché but true. I wouldn’t be head over heels for you if you were a gorgeous bitch.”
Quinn blinked back tears. All her life, she’d been called names. Freak, devil worshipper, ugly, hideous, weird…but John was the only person, other than her friends at the lab, who’d ever called her pretty.
His words weren’t magic, they didn’t take away the hurt she’d experienced throughout her lifetime, they didn’t suddenly make her think she could enter a beauty pageant and win…but that little ball of hope deep inside grew just a little more still.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m guessing you’re done?” John asked, gesturing to her tray.
Quinn nodded. She couldn’t eat anything else. Not after the conversation with Doctor Ballard.
John held out the business card. “Take it, Emmy. Nothing needs to be decided today. We’ll see what info we can find on him, and if you want, I’ll ask Beth to look into him as well. If anyone can find dirt on him, it’ll be her.”
That actually was a great idea. “I’ll ask her,” Quinn told him. She liked Beth. She’d been through hell in her life, but she’d flourished after being hired as a kind of hacker for the government. There wasn’t a computer system she couldn’t get into, and she was able to track down information on anyone and anything with a few clicks of her keyboard.
Quinn was glad she was a friend, because having Elizabeth Parkins as an enemy would be frightening.
“Good. Come on, I’ll walk you back to the lab before I head out. I’m sure Taco is getting impatient.”
Quinn blinked. “Taco’s here?”
“Yup.”
“You came up here to have lunch with me and he’s waiting on you?”
John smiled. “Yup.”
“That was so rude!” Quinn informed him.
John merely chuckled.
“John! Seriously! That was rude.”
“He doesn’t care, Emmy. He’s probably been texting the new woman in his life.”
“He’s dating someone?”
“Yup. Jennifer something or other.”
“Is she nice?”
“Don’t know. Haven’t met her. She’ll be at the bar on Sunday though. So everyone will get to meet her.”
“Where’d he meet her?” Quinn asked.
“I’m not sure. He just told me about her the other day. But my point, beautiful, is that he probably doesn’t care that I’m up here eating lunch with you, because he’s likely in the truck texting Jen. He’s been permanently attached to that phone of his.”
“Well, tell him I’m sorry anyway.”
“Come on. I’m guessing your lunch break is over, right?”
Quinn looked at her watch and nodded. John stood, then took hold of her chair and pulled it out for her as she stood. They took their trays over to the wall and dumped their trash and put them on the conveyer belt. Then he grabbed hold of her hand and led her out of the cafeteria.
For the first time in a long time, Quinn didn’t even notice the stares she got. She was too overwhelmed with the chance meeting with the doctor and still getting used to the fact that John not only wanted to date her, but had no problem with public displays of affection. She wasn’t used to anyone touching her.
John held her hand the entire way back to the lab. Outside the doors, he didn’t even hesitate; he tugged her into him until they were touching from thighs to chest and leaned down. He covered her lips with his own in an intimate kiss.
Quinn’s lips were still tingling when he pulled back and smiled down at her.
“I’m glad I got to see you today,” he said softly.
“Me too,” she replied.
“I’ll call tonight if I can. It depends on what emergencies we get.”
“I’d like that,” Quinn told him.
“Me too. Okay. I need to go.”
“Thanks for eating with me,” Quinn said.
“If I could do it every day, I would,” John replied. “Talk to you soon.”
“Bye.”
John ran his hand over her hair once more, then smiled before turning and walking back down the hall at a fast clip.
Quinn watched until he was gone, then leaned against the wall. Bringing a hand up to her lips, she covered them and sighed in contentment. Why had she been fighting her attraction to John? He wasn’t like other men she’d been with in the past. He was…more.
Smiling, knowing she was going to get the third degree from her friends and not even caring, Quinn pushed open the door to the lab.
Chapter Four
“So, things with you and Quinn are going well?” Sledge asked on Saturday.
Driftwood smiled and nodded.
The entire gang was sitting around the station, shooting the shit and waiting for another call. Crash and Chief had made dinner and it was Moose and Penelope’s turn to clean up afterward.
“Good. Glad to hear it. I know you’ve had your eye on her for a long time,” Sledge said.
“Had his eye on her?” Squirrel asked. “Shit, he almost beat the crap out of me for an innocent comment about her birthmark.”
“And I still will,” Driftwood said. “So watch it.”
Squirrel smiled and held up his hands in capitulation. “Not me, man. I learned my lesson.”
Everyone laughed.
“We’re still on for Sunday afternoon, right?” Taco asked.
“Yup. You bringing Jen?” Crash asked.
“Yeah. She’s kinda shy, and I know she’d appreciate getting to know the other women.”
“She it for you?” Driftwood asked, honestly curious. He’d seen Taco become obsessed with other women he’d dated in the past, and he couldn’t tell if this was a temporary thing or if it was more.
Taco shrugged. “It’s too early to know. Jeez.”
And that answered that…at least in Driftwood’s opinion. He’d known the second he’d met Quinn that she was different. She wasn’t like the women he’d met online. He couldn’t explain what it was or how he knew; he just did.
Meanwhile, Taco had been dating more and more women lately, as if he was desperate to find what their friends had.
“Does she like animals?” Penelope asked. “Because Adeline will have Coco, and I wanted to bring Smokey.”
“You can’t bring that donkey to the bar,” Moose said calmly.
“Why not?” she asked, turning to the large man with her hands on her hips. “He’s as much my service animal as Coco is to Adeline.”
“I realize that, but you wanted to drive, remember? Smokey won’t fit in your PT Cruiser.”
The diminutive woman harrumphed and collapsed on the couch with her arms crossed. “He fits,” she said grumpily.
“To answer your question, I’m sure she likes animals,” Taco said. “Who doesn’t?”
“Lots of people,” Squirrel added.
“Well, not Jen.”
“Have you asked her?” Penelope asked, not dropping the subject.
“No.”
“Then how do you know?” she insisted.
Driftwood chuckled at the back and forth between his friends. Penelope was like a little sister to them all…well, except Moose. She was definitely not anything like a sibling to him.
“Fine,” Taco said and pulled out his phone. He tapped on the screen with his thumbs for a moment, then said, “There. I asked her.”
Ten seconds later, Taco’s phone gave a little ding. He looked down at the screen, then back up at Penelope. “Her response. ‘Yes, I like animals. Why?’ So can we stop talking about that now?”
“I just wanted to make sure, you know, because Adeline is too nice to say something if someone glares at Coco. I was just going to make sure they didn’t sit next to each other if she had a thing against dogs.”
“She doesn’t have a thing against dogs,” Taco muttered, as he concentrated on the screen of his phone.
“Has Quinn asked Beth to help her research that doctor yet?” Sledge asked.
Driftwood shook his head. “No. But she will. She’s overwhelmed thinking about the possibility of having her birthmark removed, so I think she’s still processing it. The main thing I’m concerned about is her health. I don’t want to put her in danger or have this procedure somehow make things worse.”
“Beth will drop everything to do what she can to help,” Sledge said.
“I know. But Quinn needs to move at her own speed. When she’s comfortable with it, she’ll reach out.”
Just then, a loud ringing sounded throughout the room and all the firefighters immediately jumped up and raced for their bunker gear, all thoughts of Sunday’s outing, donkeys, new girlfriends, and doctors forgotten for the time being.
Sunday afternoon, Driftwood pulled up to Quinn’s apartment. He’d talked to her for an hour last night between calls. She’d said she was snuggled under her covers, and the image that came to his mind almost brought him to his knees. He recalled what she looked like in his bed, and he had an almost innate need to see her that way again, this time conscious.
He’d offered to pick her up, and was grateful Quinn had accepted. He knew she enjoyed the company of the other women, but wasn’t all that confident in showing up by herself. He also knew it stemmed from people staring at her.
But he was mostly glad she’d agreed to let him pick her up because he wanted to see if he could catch another glimpse of that creepy neighbor of hers. Quinn had told him last night that she’d had another run-in with him. He never said anything, just stared at her in a way that made her very uncomfortable.
He parked his pickup and headed for the lobby. There wasn’t a doorman or any security, but at least the apartments didn’t have outside doors. He took the stairs up to the second floor and headed for Quinn’s apartment. Just as he was about to knock, some sixth sense made him look to his right.
He saw the neighbor, Willard, sticking his head out of his apartment.
Moving quickly, Driftwood headed straight for him.
Before Driftwood reached him, Willard slammed his door shut.
Feeling frustrated, he knocked firmly on the door. He didn’t really expect it to open, but he was still pissed when it didn’t.
“You need to stop staring at my girlfriend,” Driftwood called through the door. “I mean it. If you don’t stop, we’re going to go to the super of the building. You see her coming, you walk the other way. Hear me?”
Nothing but silence met his words, and Driftwood struggled with his emotions. He wanted to continue to beat on the door until the guy opened it and talked to him face-to-face, but knowing that wasn’t going to happen, Driftwood backed away.
He ran a hand through his hair and walked back down the hallway to Quinn’s door. Not surprised to see she was standing in the open doorway, he smiled at her. “You heard that, huh?”
“Yeah. I guess he was peering out his door into the hallway again?”
“He do that often?”
Quinn nodded. “Pretty much anytime he hears anything going on out here. It’s not just me. Anytime someone knocks on anyone else’s door, he’s Mr. McNosypants, wanting to know who it is and why they’re here.”
“Guess he knows who I am now, and that I’m not going to tolerate him scaring you.”
“Guess so,” Quinn said with a small grin.
Driftwood was relieved she didn’t seem to be pissed at him.
“You look great,” he told her, taking the time to really look at her now. She had on a pair of skinny jeans that we
re molded to her legs. Her blouse was some sort of frothy black material that flowed around her hips. It had little sleeves barely covering her shoulders and a scoop neck. Her hair was down, as usual, and it was so shiny that Driftwood wanted nothing more than to touch it to see if it felt as silky as he remembered.
“Thanks. You do too.”
Driftwood stepped toward her and brought a hand up to the side of her neck. He dropped his head and brushed his lips against hers once. Then twice. The third time, he felt her go up on her tiptoes, and her hand grabbed hold of his arm to help keep her balance. She opened her mouth under his, and he closed his eyes in relief—and ecstasy.
The kiss was the most passionate one they’d shared yet. He’d kissed her before, but every one felt like the first. She relaxed against him, and it made him feel ten feet tall. It had only been a week since she’d agreed to go out with him, and he’d still been afraid she would change her mind, decide she didn’t want to date him after all. But with her lips on his now, he could tell she had no intention of backing away.
Moaning in his throat, he pulled away before things could get out of hand. The desire to back her up into her apartment and show her exactly how much he wanted her was strong, but he wanted to bring her to The Sloppy Cow more. He wanted to show her off to his friends. Wanted to see her relaxed and happy with their inner circle.
He knew Quinn was an introvert and didn’t mind spending time alone, but he also had a feeling the more time she spent with Beth, Sophie, and the others, the more she’d want to. She’d see that they genuinely liked her and had no agendas. They’d have her back, just as he would, if any idiot felt the need to be a douche about her birthmark. She needed the other women as much as they needed her.
Because as much as he knew the others would stick up for Quinn, he knew she’d do the same right back. If Beth was feeling uneasy because of her agoraphobia, Quinn would be there for her. If someone said anything about Coco, Adeline’s service dog, Quinn wouldn’t hesitate to set them straight about the laws concerning when and where service pets were allowed. And he already knew she had no problem calling people out who were being dicks to Sophie because of her stutter.
