Page 55 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

I agree, then set my phone on silent and tuck it into my bag. The timer beeps for the torte, so I set it gently on a cooling rack on the counter.

What does my brother want that requires meeting me for coffee? He used to do that when I was in school, to check in. One time he asked if I’d rather live in town, so I could see my friends more. But I couldn’t leave Grandma and Granddad, or Soren Lake. Maybe that makes me weird, but whatever.

Another time Hunter urged me to finish college, but again I said no. College would be great if I knew what I wanted to study. Instead I got stuck in general ed classes that bored me to tears and cost an arm and a leg. It felt wasteful. I’m happy with my little jewelry side gig and my job at Soren Lake. Someday, that will change. I’ll deal with it then.

Could Hunter want to talk about Vander again? Or is it related to our family? More bad news?

“Something smells delicious,” Quinn says from the edge of the kitchen.

I spin, my heart jumping into my throat. “Hey.”

He’s wearing a plaid button-down with the cuffs rolled to his elbows, dark jeans that hang from his frame like a dream, and soft leather loafers. His hair is still wet from a shower, and a two-day scruff adorns his tanned face.

He crosses the room, a concerned look in his brown eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Yes.” I force a smile. “How was your day?”

He leans his hip against the counter and raises an eyebrow. “Long.”

My neck heats, but I focus on stirring the caper sauce. “How was the glacier tour?”

“Amazing, but…lonely.” He winks at me.

With a shake of my head, I pull the bruschetta from the oven. Using tongs, I add each of the rounds on a pretty plate and set on the other side of the island with a stack of colorful paper napkins.

He takes my hands in his and gently turns them palm-up. “Healing up nicely.”

I smile and slide my hands free. “Very kind of you to check on me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

I ignore this because it feels loaded, and I need to focus on dinner. When I return to the fridge for the fish, the scuffed packaging reminds me of Hayden, but with a firm breath, I shove him from my mind. He’s a problem for another day. I’m here now, and I’m going to enjoy it.

Quinn comes up behind me as I unwrap the fillet and set it on the cutting board. “I’ve been thinking about you nonstop.”

A shiver races down my spine. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

“Last night was incredible.” His exotic, spicy scent hits my senses, making my core cinch into little knots. An ache starts to throb between my thighs.

So much for last night being a one-off.

I gaze out the window, to where Dawson is playing, his foot tapping to the rhythm. “Did…we go too far?”

Quinn brushes my arm with the backs of his fingertips. “Maybe we should talk. Set some ground rules.”

Under normal circumstances, I resist rules or anyone who tries to force me to follow them. But this feels different. These rules could keep us all safe.

Though hashing them out will surely reveal how this will all end. The reality of that feels scary, especially when we’ve only just begun to spend time together, but I need all the cards on the table.

“Okay,” I finally say.

Quinn kisses my temple, as if to reassure me. “Let’s start with Dawson. Until he’s divorced, he’s promised to stay within the parameters they set. No relationships, outercourse only, and discreet.”

I release a slow breath. Hearing this so…cut and dry isn’t exactly a turn on, but I also know that I need to understand. “Outercourse?”

Quinn steps back and crosses his arms. “Everything but the home run. It prevents surprises in the family planning department.”

“Oh.” I gaze out the window, where Dawson is still playing. I guess I understand—sort of. “So, you two, like do your thing…together?”

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