Page 25 of Quentin
“I don’t know. I didn’t know why you walked away two months ago, and I didn’t know why you walked back into my bar yesterday,” she admitted. “What you just said to me, Quentin, it’s what I needed to hear from you two months ago.”
The implication that despite everything that had passed between them, it was too late, was there. And maybe she was right. Maybe it was too late. Maybe his fear of commitment, his fear of opening up and letting anyone in, had alreadywrecked what was probably the best thing that had ever happened in his life. But he had to try. If the last two months had been any indication, whatever hurt pride or hurt feelings he was risking by laying it on the line couldn’t be any worse than the misery of being without her and wonderingwhat if.
“Then let me rephrase. I don’t think that I’m in love with you, Harlow. IknowI am. And as much of an ass as it makes me to admit it, I walked out on you because I was too much of a coward to face it then.”
She let her head fall back and sighed up to the ceiling. “And when you get spooked again? What happens then, Quentin? I’m fine with us this way…you and me, and whatever happens just happens. No promises mean no expectations…but if you promise me things, if you let me hope for things, and then you take it away—I don’t know if I can forgive that.”
“I’m sticking this time, Lowey. Whatever it takes. You can count on it.”
“I want so badly to believe that,” she whispered.
“If you let me, I’ll prove it,” he promised. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat, then traced his tongue over the arch of her collarbone. “Starting now.”
Quentin reached for the button of her jeans and freed it with a flick of his thumb before sliding the zipper down. Tugging them over her hips, he dropped them onto the floor and then pressed her back onto the countertop. He let his hands roam over her, touching her everywhere, savoring every shudder and moan from her.
With Lowey, it wasn’t just about his own pleasure and making her come had nothing to do with his own ego. It went beyond that, to something deep and visceral. Primal even. She washis. In every way that mattered, and whether she stayed with him or not, this part of her would be his forever. Maybe it was ego, after all, because he wanted her to feel that. He wanted to know that long after he was gone, she’d still bear his mark on a part of her that no one else would ever touch.
Quentin kissed her again, taking her mouth, staking a claim. And then he moved lower, trailing kisses along her neck, her breasts, pausing to tease each nipple. Just as he reached the band of her underwear, a loud and obnoxious bang sounded at the door.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered and rested his head against her hip for just a second. “Who the fuck would be looking for us here?”
“Ciaran,” she said. “Or one of your other siblings…they’re the only ones who know where we are. Whoever it is, they have shitty timing.”
He pulled his pants up and then gathered her discarded clothing. “Epically shitty…but this—this is not done. The minute we get rid of them, I’m going to lick every fucking inch of you.”
“Well, that’s romantic.”
“It will be,” he said. “And if it isn’t, it’s going to feel so damn good you won’t care.”
He walked toward the door, but stood there, waiting until Lowey was fully dressed again to open it. The pounding resumed along with a booming announcement.
“It’s the Sheriff! I know you’re in there, and you need to open up the door immediately.”
Quentin glanced back at Lowey. “This can’t be good.”
“It never is. But let the son of a bitch in.”
Quentin opened the door to see Silas standing there accompanied by two Fayette County officers. He was out of his jurisdiction since Ash Grove Farm was over the county line.
“Silas, you’re an unexpected and unwelcome surprise.”
“Can the attitude, Darcy,” Silas said. “I’m here to serve a warrant.”
“For?” Quentin demanded.
“The warrant is issued to my cousin-in-law, not you.”
“Former cousin-in-law,” Lowey corrected as she stepped forward. She accepted the paperwork from Silas and frowned as she read through it. “Why are you searching The Kicking Mule? There’s not enough left of it to hide anything.”
“We’re looking for a weapon…a handgun in particular. It seems someone shot Joey this evening.”
Quentin frowned as Lowey asked. “Is he okay?”
“Why the hell would you care?” Silas demanded.
“For Joey, I don’t. But Juanita loves his worthless ass, and that woman has enough misery in her life already,” Lowey snapped at him.
“No. He’s not okay. He’s dead, and frankly no one has more cause to want him that way than you do,” Silas replied. “I wouldn’t advise taking any trips, Harlow. We’re going to want to talk to you again.”
