Page 43 of Just One Moment

“Yesssss.”Shedrags that one syllable out with an eye roll. “Butyou have to explain your answer.”

“Showme the rule book that says that.”

“Graham, there is no rule book.”Sheblows out a frustrated breath—it’s quite fun winding her up. “Demsthe rules, pal.”

Curlytrots ahead again, tail wagging, and we follow the light pitter-patter of his paws.Ilook down atQuinn, arms swinging as she keeps a tight hold of his leash.She’sa stubborn thing when she gets frustrated; her nose crinkles and a little dent creases between her brows.

Igive it some thought before replying. “Youcan multitask with tentacles.Plus, claws make it hard to hold certain things.”

“Likewhat?Actually,Iguess it would be hard for you to put your glasses on or type on your keyb—ohhhh.Youwouldn’t be able to jerk off.”Herfree hand is thrown up in the air, as if to sayduh.

Ialmost go flying into the frigid waters whenItrip over my feet at her blunt observation.Acold bath is probably whatIneed when she talks like that.Shedoes this a lot, says things with zero filter, and nowI’mthinking about rubbing one out.Withher in the room.GodknowsI’vehad enough cold showers since she moved in, especially when she skips around the apartment in those tiny shorts that mold to her ass like a second skin.

Imaginingher in those shorts is not helping the situation between my legs.

She’snot wrong—the idea of holding my dick between apincer and a claw does not sound appealing.Ijust didn’t plan on telling her that was the main reason behind my decision.

“So, you’d choose lobster claws?”Igruff, trying my best not to let images ofQuinnwatching me intimately flood my brain.

“Oh, heck no.We’dbe tentacle buddies.”

“Andyour reasoning?”

“Sameas you.”Hershoulders jerk.

Fuck.Shit.Fuck.NowI’mimagining her, spread out, hands drifting down to the apex of her thighs.Moaningand writhing under the caress of her delicate fingers asItower over her.Desperateto touch and taste.

“Ilooked over that report you gave me.”Thankfullyher words pull me out of my inappropriate thoughts. “Therewere a lot of things on thereIwasn’t clear about.Couldwe talk over it one day this week?”

“Yeah, sure.Ican swing by the bakery?—”

Mysentence is cut off by the ringing ofQuinn’sphone.Thereare so many pockets to her jacket, it takes some patting down until she finally locates it before stabbing at the screen to accept the call.

“Hello?”Wecarry on walking as she talks on the phone, nodding along and sayingokayto whomever she’s speaking to.Myhand hovers behind her, guiding her, and ready to catch her if she loses her footing. “Oh.Isit really that bad?”Hershoulders slump farther with each question and answer until all the spirit she had in her has vanished. “Right.I’ll…I’llhave to look into that and get back to you.Thanksfor keeping me updated,Ricky.Seeya.”

Ricky.Theowner of the garageIrecommended.Fromthe crushed look on her face, the news he’s just delivered isn’t good.

Sheends the call but doesn’t look up from her phone, even after it locks, her eyes stay glued to the black screen.

“Hey.Whatdid he say?”Iask quietly.

Acorner of my heart cracks and breaks off when she sniffles.Goddammit, people need to stop upsetting this woman becauseI’mgoing to get a savior complex.Itguts me in waysIcan’t explain when her bright spark dims.

Ibend at the knees and duck my head, bringing us to a standstill.Shestill refuses to meet my gaze, so with the tip of my pointer finger on her chin,Itilt her head up slowly.

“Honey, what haveIgot to do soIcan see that beautiful smile again?”

Thecorner of her lips pull in, catching the tears streaking her rosy cheeks. “Idon’t know.”Hervoice is so weak and full of turmoil. “Myvan.Myhome.There’smore damage to it than we thought.It’snot even just the electrics the rats have chewed through—which costs thousands alone—the air filter is useless.Theradiator is destroyed.Therats trashed it with all their nesting.It’snot only unlivable right now, but unsafe.”Sheworries her lips between her teeth, chin wobbling, and for whatever reason, those glassy, golden eyes look at me like she could…No.Likeshe does trust me.

Quinnlooks at me likeIhold all the answers in the universe—its stars, galaxies, and all undiscovered planets.And, fuck, doIwant to be that person for her.

Idon’t just want to hold the stars in the sky for her;Iwant to create a million more, to see them twinkle in her eyes.

“Graham,” she whimpers. “WhatdoIdo?”

FromwhatI’vepicked up, that question isn’t easy for her.Isuspect she’s spent a long time fending for herself, too scared to ask for help or perhaps not having the right people around her.

She’sheadstrong to a fault, andIsense there’s more behind that.

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