Page 21 of Frequency of Attraction

He shrugged, bringing his gaze back to their piece of Tyvek-covered plywood.

Quinn waited. This man obviously had a story to tell.

“Truthfully, there was someone. The one that got away, as it goes. Everyone else is just filler. They’ll always only be filler.” He punctuated his words with pops and hisses of the nail gun.

“You seem pretty young to have lost your chance at love.” Though Quinn had decided herself pretty early that dating, love, and marriage were all too much of a risk. Being the youngest in a family like hers meant she had box seats to the disasters related to all three.

He snorted softly. “I met her when I was eighteen. In five years, not a single woman has come close.”

“I hope you find her again, then.”

Maddox’s dimpled smile appeared. “Stranger things have happened. You thirsty?”

Quinn nodded.

“Tate! What kind of host are you? We’re dying out here. Where’s the beer?”

“You invited yourself to my house, remember?” Tate hollered back. But he dusted his hands on his shorts and made for the house.

“Short stuff.”

Quinn finished her next set of shingles before replying to Maddox. “Oui?”

“Damn, I love the French. Gives me the shivers.”

She smiled. She had the same reaction every time her mind went back to Vadim’s vivid blue eyes on hers as he gripped her thighs with inked hands.

“Thanks for letting me talk about her. I’ve never mentioned her to anyone. Feels good to give us life again.”

Her heart skipped with joy. Quinn loved serving others. Listening was an easy way to do so.

She stood, dusting herself off. “My pleasure. I’m going to see if I can help Tate with the drinks.”

She slipped in near the pool entrance, but Maisie had beaten her to it. She quick-stepped toward Quinn, worry etched on her forehead. “I think we’re in trouble. There’s a redhead in the kitchen, and she looks pissed.”

Quinn fought an eye roll. She’dtoldTate he should have mentioned the Cases to Rosie. In this instance, she hated to be right.

Tate was a natural-born fixer, but Quinn followed the raised voices toward the kitchen anyway. She could see right away that she was too late. Tate, with the open fridge behind him, looked stricken, his tan face noticeably paler. Rosie, conversely, looked an unnatural shade of pink as she stormed past Quinn. Tate let her leave, which Quinn didn’t understand at all. Tate loved Rosie, though he’d sworn off love long before Quinn had. Even she knew that if you loved someone, you didn’t let them go. She sent her cousin a baffled look and took off afterhissecret girlfriend.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Quinn said, grasping at Rosie’s arm as she caught up outside.

Rosie stopped, but she didn’t look happy about it.

“What’s going on, Rosie?”

“I’m giving up.” She raised her chin like she dared Quinn to convince her otherwise.

Quinn did dare. “Giving up on Tate? Why? He adores you. I’ve never seen him happier.”

“I’ve never been happier. Until today. That’s the problem. Happiness doesn’t last.” She wiped a tear away, looking angry at the saltwater for escaping. “You know,” she said, voice dark and accusatory, unlike herself in every way. “You said it at Chen’s going-away party. Relationships are too much of a risk.”

Quinn frowned. Tate would do anything for Rosie. He loved her despite his mother’s pressures, his own goals, everything. He’d taken the risks of their relationship knowingly and without regret.

She tried one more time to defuse the situation. “Maisie, that woman, is just—”

Rosie held up a hand, shaking her head. “I’ll see you around, Quinn.”

She sputtered, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Where was Tate? Quinn really didn’t understand dating at all. Her plan with Vadim was looking better and better all the time. Just sex, no risk of feelings.

---