Lost and Found Sisters

by Jill Shalvis

  Quinn went to work, shocked by the sheer number of people who showed up for breakfast. “Where do all these people come from every day?” she asked in amazement to a running-harried Trinee.

  “Truckers, ranchers, surfers, tourists,” she said, picking up her table’s food. “We get ’em all.”

  It amazed Quinn. The place was run on a shoestring budget with antiquated equipment and—in her opinion—an antiquated menu, and yet it was widely beloved.

  And then there was the other thing. She’d never worked harder in any kitchen than she had in this one on the few times she’d been cooking here, but . . . it was something she’d never expected—satisfying.

  There was a knock at the back door and Quinn turned to see Dylan standing there. “Hey,” she said. “What’s up? Tilly okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Or I think so. I haven’t seen her today. I have one less class than she does.”

  “Okay,” Quinn said and paused. “Are you hungry? Do you need breakfast?”

  Dylan’s eyes moved hungrily to the range. “I’m here to start work,” he said, surprising her.

  “Um . . . what?”

  His gaze slid to hers. “Tilly told me I start work today. The busboy position. It’s still open?”

  Quinn blinked as she realized she’d once again been bamboozled by a far-too-sharp fifteen-year-old. If only the girl used her powers for good . . . “I thought the job was for Tilly.”

  “I’ve bussed before, I’ve got experience.”

  Trinee shoved her head in from the dining room and yelled, “I need some damn help out here, the crowd’s getting restless and I can’t do it all by my damn self.”

  Quinn turned to Dylan. “It’s an insane asylum. Why would you want to work here?”

  He looked at the stove and then met her gaze again. “I’ve always been pretty passionate about not starving to death.”

  Her heart squeezed hard. Dammit. She was so used to not feeling a single thing. And now here she was feeling . . . everything. All the damn time. Before she knew it, she’d probably be crying at tampon commercials. “Welcome aboard,” she said, and insisted he eat a large plate of food she made up for him before he went to work.

  He inhaled every bite and that tugged at her heart too.

  When the crowd finally thinned several hours later, she stepped out into the dining room and to her surprise, the patrons applauded.

  Okay, so it was mostly the geriatric crowd: Lou, Hank, and Big Hank, but still. Laughing, she took a bow.

  “Hey, nice job,” Lou called out. “You didn’t get stung by a bee, beaten up by a chicken, or need an ambulance or fire truck today.”

  She took another bow and when she straightened, caught sight of the tall, handsome man walking into the place, hair wind tousled, dark lenses covering his eyes.

  Mick.

  Her silly heart skipped a damn beat as he pushed the glasses to the top of his head and sought out her gaze. “Thought you could use a lift.”

  “A lift?” she asked.

  His mouth was solemn and serious, but there was something much lighter and amused in his gaze. “Yeah. To the thing,” he said meaningfully.

  Her entire body quivered in anticipation. “Oh, that’s right,” she said, untying her apron. “The thing. Give me a sec.”

  She whirled and rushed into the kitchen, tossing her apron aside.

  Greta and Trinee stood there side by side, brows up. “The thing?” Greta asked. “What is this thing?”

  Quinn tried to be cool, but let’s face it, she’d never been cool a day in her life. Worse, she couldn’t control her sudden smile. “Oh, it’s just a thing.”

  Trinee gave Gerta a knowing glance. “Uh-huh. When you and I go to a”—she used air quotes—“‘thing,’ I smile like that too.”

  FIVE MINUTES LATER, Mick had Quinn in his car, heading up the highway along the coast. He had a million other things he should be doing, but he didn’t care. He had the windows down, the ocean breeze blowing in, stirring Quinn’s hair, teasing him with the scent of her shampoo.

  “I’ve never seen you drive anything but a truck,” she said.

  “The truck’s my dad’s. I usually drive it in Wildstone when I’m working at the house because it’s more convenient for hauling materials. And also because Coop likes it better than this.”

  Quinn looked at the dog in the rearview mirror. “He doesn’t seem to be having a problem enjoying himself.”

  And true enough, Coop had his entire head out the window, eyes and jowls flattened back by the wind, making him look like an alien.

  Quinn laughed, and Mick discovered he liked the sound of that almost as much as he liked the scent of her hair. But he knew what he liked even more than both of those things, and that was the taste of her.

  To that end, he pulled off the highway and drove them along a private road up the bluffs and stopped facing the ocean.

  “Wow,” Quinn said, sounding awed. “What a gorgeous view. Where are we?”

  “This property used to be a small, local family-run winery. It’s thirty acres of dust crop now, with several run-down buildings.”

  “They went bankrupt?”

  “They were headed that way,” he said. “They started some renovations that the city objected to and they got their permits rescinded. But they were already tens of thousands of dollars into the renovations. They were going to have to declare bankruptcy.”

  “How awful for them.”

  “Yeah. Then the vultures descended with ridiculously low-ball offers.”

  She stared at him. “And you . . . did something. To help . . . Yeah,” she said, studying him, cocking her head to do it too.

  It was pretty fucking sexy. And cute. “I bought the place.”

  “Not for an undercut price,” she said, sounding so sure of him that it did something to his gut.

  “I always pay fair market value,” he said. “Only part of the reason that the city manager isn’t happy with me.”

  “Why would he care?”

  “He’s the main vulture.” Colin had called him with the news. It seemed that Wildstone’s city manager might be taking kickbacks from outside builders and businesses—at the expense of the locals. “He likes to use his position and power to learn which properties are in trouble, and then he does his best to make it worse for them, and when they’re at rock bottom he comes in and buys for pennies on the dollar.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?”

  “If he’s caught at it.”

  “So you’re going to run a winery,” she said, looking at him like he was some kind of hero instead of just a solid businessman.

  “No,” he said. “I’m going to fund the renovations and then the original owners are going to lease it back and run it.” Without the heavy mortgage and the second and third loans they’d had out on the place, which had been running them into the ground. They were good people who’d run into bad times, but the bottom line was that the property was a good investment for him, one of several he’d made over the past year.

  “You know them?” Quinn asked.

  “Everyone knows everyone out here, at least loosely.”

  “Hmm,” she said and kept watching him.

  “What?”

  “I think it’s cute that you bought this land to keep a local winery intact.”

  “And because it’s a win-win for me,” he repeated.

  “I still think it’s pretty damn sweet of you.” She paused. “Or are you one of those guys who think sweet threatens his . . .” She gestured to his crotch.

  He grinned. “I’m willing to go with sweet if that turns you on.”

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth as she licked her own lips. “Is this where we get to the . . . thing?”

  In answer, he scooted his seat back as far as it would go and hauled her over the console and into his lap so that she was straddling him.

  Coop gave one happy bark, excited at the possibility of a wrestle sessio
n. Mick reached back and opened the car door. The dog hopped out, happily loping along the bluffs, nose down, taking in all the scents.

  “He won’t wander off?” Quinn asked, worriedly watching him go.

  He cupped her face and turned it back to his. “Not even if I wanted him to. Where were we?”

  She smiled and wiggled a little bit, causing him to groan. He slipped his fingers into her hair and pulled her mouth down to his.

  Sweet turned to scorching when she melted against him. It awed him, and it turned him on like nothing else, and he knew he was going to take what she was willingly giving him, keep her for as long as she allowed, and maybe, if his luck held, it’d be a long time before she wrenched his heart out and walked away.

  He slid one hand up her shirt, the other in her pants, and she whispered his name, her voice a breathy, desperate whisper. The tension in her changed when he found the right spot and he felt her go utterly still, like she didn’t want to misdirect or distract him. But he could read her like he could his own soul. He knew exactly what she wanted, what she needed. “I’ve got you, Quinn.”

  She clung to him, a few wayward strands of hair slipping into her face, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she came apart. After, she sagged against him, nestling in close, and he savored that, wondering, as he always did, if this time would be their last.

  Then she lifted her head with a smile and met his gaze as she ran her fingers down his chest, pushing up the hem of his T-shirt to open his jeans. A minute later she had him in her hot little hands and he knew he wasn’t going to last all that long when his phone, which had slipped out of his pocket and landed on the seat at his thigh, went off with an incoming text.

  The screen ID said: MOM. He closed his eyes and felt Quinn’s silky hair brush over his abs.

  “I think your mom’s—”

  “Ignore it,” he said, his hand gently fisting in her hair.

  She dropped to her knees between his and had her mouth just below his belly button, heading for his favorite body part when his phone went off again—a call this time.

  Quinn’s soft exhale brushed over him and he groaned.

  “Maybe it’s important,” she whispered.

  He blew out another breath, and eyes still locked on Quinn’s, he picked up the phone. “Everything okay?” he asked in lieu of a greeting.

  “Well, what kind of a hello is that?” his mom asked. “Of course I’m all right, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Is it Wendy?” he asked. “Have you heard from her?”

  “Actually, yes. She’s still in New York and she says she’s doing great and that she’ll return your texts and calls soon.”

  Uh-huh. More like she’ll do so when she ran out of money . . .

  “But that’s not why I’m calling,” his mom said. “I need you to come over.”

  “I can be there later tonight—”

  “I was hoping for now, honey. What’s got you so busy you don’t have any time for me?”

  “Mom.” Mick let out a low laugh and rubbed his forehead. “I’m . . .” He met Quinn’s still languorous, still hungry expression. “Busy.”

  “Well, get unbusy and hurry,” she said and disconnected.

  He stared at his phone.

  “She okay?” Quinn asked.

  “She needs my help with something.” He paused. “She hung up on me. She’s never hung up on me.”

  “Does she live close by?”

  “Yes, actually, only a few miles from here.”

  Quinn sat up, and to his sexual frustration, climbed back into the passenger seat and put herself back together. “Let’s go make sure she’s okay.”

  “We?”

  She looked at him. “Well, you’re already almost there, right? I can wait in the car, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  She thought he didn’t want her to go. Which was more than a little true, but not for the reason she believed. His mom didn’t have much of an inner filter and he held no illusions of even trying to control the things she might say. “It’s fine.” He started the car and opened the door to whistle for Coop.

  When they pulled up to his mom’s house a few minutes later, she was sitting on the porch in one of the two chairs. The other chair was filled by . . .

  Lena.

  And to think he’d been worried about what his mom might say. He parked and just looked at the porch.

  “What’s going on?” Quinn asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said. But he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like it. He got out of the car and was grateful for small favors when Quinn didn’t follow.

  He walked up to the house and looked at Lena and then his mom. “What’s up?”

  Lena stood up. “I asked your mom to call you out here so we could talk. About us.”

  “Lena, there is no us.”

  “But there could be an us,” she said. “I know it. Your mom knows it. The whole town knows it—”

  “Lena.” Christ. He didn’t want to be doing this, but he especially didn’t want to be doing this with Quinn right there. Were his car windows down? Yeah, perfect. They were. And then there was his mom sitting there soaking up every little thing, hopeful, eternally hopeful, for grandchildren.

  “I just don’t know where we went wrong,” Lena said.

  He snorted and turned back to his car but Lena ran down the steps and put her hand on his arm.

  “Stop this,” he said quietly, for her ears only. “Before I say something that hurts and embarrasses you. What we had when we were kids is long over and you know it. You also know why.”

  “I apologized for that,” she said. “It should be like a juvenile court record—expunged.”

  “I agree, and I’ve forgiven you if that’s what you’re looking for. But we were kids and I no longer—”

  “Don’t say you don’t have feelings for me, Mick. I can feel that you do. I’ll show you.” She went up on tiptoe and brushed her mouth across his.

  Two things happened simultaneously. One, Mick took a step back. Two, a truck pulled up. And before Mick knew it, he was being cold-cocked right in the jaw.

  He hit the ground and blinked up at a furious Boomer bending over him. “What the—”

  “Get up, you two-timing hypocrite,” Boomer snarled and then dove on him.

  They rolled in the dirt. Mick got a good shot in before they were stopped by two blurs who came from opposite sides to pull them apart.

  Quinn and Lena.

  Quinn put her hands on Mick’s chest. “You good?”

  He swiped at his bloody lip. “Yeah.”

  She pushed his hair from his forehead, looked him over, and then nodded.

  Lena was faced off with Boomer, hands on her hips. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Boomer swiped at his own bloody lip. “What do you think?”

  Lena stared at him. “You dumped me, remember?”

  “I said you needed to make some changes. I didn’t mean to go after your damn ex and my best friend! Jesus, Lena.”

  “You need to make up your damn mind,” she said.

  “Don’t you mean you need to make up your damn mind?” Boomer demanded incredulously.

  “You’re both insane,” Mick said.

  Boomer gave him a long, considering look and Mick gave it right back to him. He was pissed enough to go another round, no problem.