Page 28 of Tin

I press the side of my head into his and lower my face into the crook of his neck. “Just one.”

“And what’s that?”

I mold the rest of my body to him and let his arms take me in. “Hope.” And it’s both the best and most frightening thing I’ve experienced in a long time.

“Hope,” he repeats quietly. “I think hope is going to go a long way for us.”

“It might never go anywhere other than here.” I start to step out of his embrace, but he stops me.

“Or it could take us to death do us part. That’s the thing about hope, Quinn. It comes with possibilities. And I like that. Whatever they are. I like knowing they exist.” He bends down and kisses the top of my head. Then he reaches for my door handle with one hand, while still holding me to him with the other.

“I’m going to finish up here, help Sid with the night feeding and then I’ll be home. You gonna be there?”

I unravel my way out of his arm and the safety of his broad frame and slide into the front seat of Kirsten’s car. “I’ll be there. Now that I don’t have to fake going for a run, I might even show up wearing something nice and girly like.”

“And yet another thing to hope for.” He winks and flashes me a mischievous grin, making me blush like a teenager. We’re flirting. And not dirty flirting, but cutesy flirting. It’s a whole new side of him. And it’s freaking adorable.

“Okay, you need to stop that right now.” My stern tone goes entirely to waste since I’m smiling from ear to ear. “Don’t get all sweet and charming with me now, mister. It won’t work. I already know you’re an antisocial asshole, so just stick with that. It makes me less wobbly in the knees and pink in the cheeks.”

He comes down into the car and kisses me square on the lips. Right there. In broad daylight. “Bye, Quinn.”

“Bye, jackass.”

He closes my door, still smirking, then taps the roof before he steps away from the car, giving me the final go ahead, and I take off, but not without watching him in the side mirror the entire drive down the driveway until I turn off on the main drag. And he stands there the whole time, watching me too.

When I get back to the house, Kirsten is in full-on dinner-making mode and Sophie is busy playing with her dolls in the family room just off the kitchen.

“Save the horse?” She’s staring at me expectantly over a pot of boiling spaghetti.

“Yep.” I plop down on one of the barstools across from her.

“Then why are you so mopey?” She sets down the wooden spoon she’s holding and comes to take a seat beside me. As soon as she reaches me, her nose crinkles in disgust. “You stink, by the way. Is that what’s depressing you? Because it’s definitely having an effect on my mood right now, I can tell you that.”

I lift my shirt up to my face and inhale. I smell fabulous. Like horses and fresh hay. “You’re crazy. This scent is amazing.”

“Quinn.”

“I don’t want to lose him.” I bury my face in my hands to avoid having to see whatever expression will show up on her following those words.

“Why do you think you’re going to lose him?” she asks calmly, and I venture a peek in her direction. She’s not mocking me or looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. She’s seriously asking.

“Because.” I let my hands fall into my lap. “We’re not together. But we’re something. And I think maybe he wants the something to become a together thing, only I don’t know if I can do together. I just know I don’t want to do apart. You know?”

Kirsten laughs. “Do I know? Jesus, Quinn.Youdon’t even know.”

“Thanks. That’s helpful. I’m really glad I opened up to you about this.” I go to get up but feel her hand on my elbow.

“You really want to know what I think?”

I turn around to look at her again. “Kind of. Tell me what it is first and then I’ll decide.”

She grimaces but tells me anyway. “I think you want to have your Riker cake and eat it too. You’re used to having him all to yourself without having to invest any feelings or offer any kind of commitment, and that suits you just fine. And maybe it suits him too. Except now...now you’re having some sort of tingling sensation in the hollow hole in the pit of your chest that used to house your heart, and you’re starting to remember what it means to have feelings and you don’t like it. And now you don’t know which is worse. Leaving the man you want dangling out there for someone else to come along and snatch right out from under you—literally, given what the two of you do with your time—ortaking a trip down memory lane to retrieve what’s left of yourself in hopes of someday handing it over to him.” She clicks her tongue at me. “I don’t know, Quinn. Tricky shit, this falling in love crap, when you claim you’ve no longer got a heart to do it with.”

“No.”

Her brow raises. “No, what?”

I press my bottom lip out into a pout. “No, I don’t want to know what you think.”

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