Page 23 of Quentin
“What is it?” he asked and then listened silently before ending the call and climbing out of bed. As he reached for his pants, he looked back at Loralei. “I’m going to have to weasel my way back into your good graces later. Joey Barnes’s body was just found by a bunch of drunk high school kids.”
Loralei sat up. “His body?”
“Someone shot him in the gut,” Ciaran replied. “And Silas Barnes is on his way to question Harlow Tate…one of the deputies, who isn’t completely crooked, tipped Matt off. He means to have her arrested for this whether she did it or not.”
“I’m coming with you,” she said.
“Don’t,” he replied. “I have no idea what’s going to happen, and you may need to work on getting bail money together for her. I don’t doubt for a second that Silas will be able to manufacture enough cause for an arrest, even if he has to plant it himself!”
“But she was with Quentin all along, right?”
Ciaran shook his head. “Any decent lawyer will be able to discredit her lover as an alibi…we can only hope that Joey was still alive at the time they showed up at Mia’s. If not, if Quentin is her only alibi, and Silas Barnes is determined to pin this on her…she’ll get off eventually, but it won’t be easy. He’ll fight it every step of the way.”
“I’ll talk to Kaitlyn about bail money. I don’t have it myself, but she does, and I know she’ll help out if I ask her to.”
“I shouldn’t put that on you,” he said. “This is my fucked-up family after all…the thing is, I know how much money they’ve poured into the distillery, Lor. And Quentin could probably get her out of jail, but it would take every dime he’s got.”
“I don’t mind,” Loralei replied. “I like Lowey. I’ve always liked Lowey, and I know just what a shit Silas Barnes can be. Any Barnes for that matter. It’s just a whole freaking barrel full of bad apples.”
Ciaran kissed her soundly on the lips, but it was more an expression of affection and gratitude than the wicked things that had been on his mind earlier. “I do love you, Loralei Elizabeth Crawford. And even if this all comes to naught, I do appreciate what you’ve done to try and give me the family I wanted…and if it doesn’t work, you’re all I ever needed anyway.”
She blinked at him as tears filled her eyes. “Damn you, Ciaran! I wanted to be mad at you for a little longer.”
He was smiling and whistling as he walked out the door.
Lowey was standing at the counter in the kitchen of the small carriage house. A glance at the clock told her it was nearly three in the morning. Quentin was in bed, but she’d been unable to sleep. Rather than stare up at the ceiling, she’d gotten up. She was worried about so many things—the bar was her home and her livelihood. Her savings account wouldn’t carry her forever. Hell, she’d be lucky if it carried her through Christmas. But that wasn’t what kept her awake. It was him. She was worried he would break her heart all over again, and she also worried because, in that moment, her heart was breaking for him.
Quentin had been quiet since they’d left Mia’s, and she knew that the conversation about his mother was weighing on him. He was afraid to hope, and she understood that perhaps better than anyone. Being afraid to believe that any positive sign wasn’t just too good to be true was an all too familiar sensation for her.
In fact, she’d been having that same feeling since he’d walked into her bar not even two days ago. Had it really been less than forty-eight hours since her life and her heart had been turned upside down all over again?
“Nothing will ever fuck you up as bad as that man, Lowey. Nothing,” she muttered to herself as she opened the refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of water from inside. She didn’t know who’d come in and stocked it for them, but the gift basket of fruit and other goodies on the counter had been very welcome.
The bedroom door opened, and she looked up to see Quentin standing there. Shirtless, his jeans half undone, hair mussed, God above, he was hot.
“I’m sorry I dragged you out the way I did,” he offered. “I let it get to me, and you paid for it. As usual.”
She rolled her eyes. “Leaving early wasn’t quite the hardship you make it out to be. I like your family. They’re nice people. Welcoming and warm…but I don’t belong there.”
It was his turn to roll his eyes, and he did. “Do not start that shit again. You’re as good as anyone else!”
“Yes, I am. But as good as and same as are very different things,” she explained. “I will never be the kind of woman you can take to dinners or fundraisers. I will never be a soccer mom like Annalee, even assuming you and I would manage to avoid killing each other long enough to get married and have kids…hell, we’ve never even talked about whether or not either of us wants kids!”
“Since you’re predicting gloom and doom in our relationship, why not branch out a little? What day will I die? What horrible illness or accident will have me meeting my maker?” he demanded. “Jesus, Lowey! Can we not justbe? I want you in my life…I don’t know about forever, and I don’t know about kids. And if I wanted a soccer mom, there are about fifteen single ones in this town who’ve been knocking on my door since you and I split up.”
That brought her up short. “And I just bet you let them in, didn’t you?”
He ran his hands through his hair. “No, dammit. I didn’t. I haven’t been with another woman since you…I haven’t wanted to, and that’s the hell of it.”
“I find that difficult to believe,” she snapped.
He walked toward her, that slow easy stride that had all his muscles rippling and her heart pounding. Just inches separated them when he stopped, close enough that she could feel the heat of him. “Doesn’t matter whether you believe it or not, Lowey. I said it because it’s the truth, not because I’m trying to convince you of anything.”
“Quentin, we’re fooling ourselves if either of us expects this thing to work. You do know that, right?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t. I’ve always said I wasn’t good at commitment, but the simple truth is, I’ve never tried. I’ve never met anyone who made me want to.”
“Quentin—”
