Archer nods and follows me to the corner. I can feel his eyes on me and do my best to ignore him. I don’t trust myself not to give in to the intense desire to kiss him that’s currently crippling me.
We cross the street and go into Henry’s Feed and Garden, an old cowbell jingling when I open the door.
“My oh my,” Mrs. Miller says, pushing her glasses up on her nose. “Is that you, Quinn Dawson?”
“It is,” I say with a smile.
“I haven’t seen you in years! Get over here, girl.” She opens her arms and wraps me in a big hug. Mrs. Miller and her husband, Henry, have owned this feed store for as long as I’ve been alive. Back in my youth, I showed goats and horses at the county fair and I spent a decent amount of time in this place. My parents got rid of the goats soon after I graduated high school, and my show horse died five years ago.
I still miss him.
“You look amazing!” Mrs. Miller exclaims, holding me out at arm’s length. “I heard about your fancy app and your fancy job. We’re all proud of you, hun. This whole town is.”
“It was nothing,” I say, trying to brush off the compliment. It wasn’t nothing, and it took a lot of work to create the app. Selling it was part talent and part luck. The right person saw it at the right time and offered me a deal I couldn’t refuse.
“And who is this?” Her eyes go behind me to Archer.
“Hi,” Archer says, offering his hand to shake. “I’m Archer. Dean’s friend.”
He is Dean’s friend. It’s not a lie. But for some reason his words make me feel all stabby. What is up with me today? I must be PMSing hard.
We talk with Mrs. Miller for a bit before getting the things on Mom’s list. Archer carries two heavy bags of feed out to the car like it’s nothing. I open the door for him and step aside.
“Quinn,” he says once the bags of chicken feed are in the car. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
“I’m not mad,” I say softly, tempted to go with Mom’s favorite and add ‘I’m just disappointed’ to the end of it. I don’t, and instead, I pull the list out of my purse to see what else we need to get. “Mom wants two bouquets of flowers. The florist is just down the block.”
I take off, and Archer falls into step next to me. “You seem mad, and I wouldn’t blame you.”
Coming to a sudden halt, I whirl around. “Really, Archer? You wouldn’t blame me? How very generous of you.”
I take off again, wondering where the fire inside of me is coming from. I’m not a confrontational person. At all. I know I have feelings for Archer, but I guess they’re rooted deeper than I thought for all this snapping.
“Quinn, stop.” Archer grabs my wrist, gently pulling me back to him. I let him bring me close, and rest one hand on his firm chest, feeling his heart beat beneath my fingers. I want nothing more than to kiss him, for him to pick me up and press me against the brick wall of Eastwood’s only bookstore, not caring who sees.
Tingles make their way through every inch of me, and my pussy aches to feel his touch. I need him.
And I think he needs me too.
I lick my lips and inch in, wanting to feel if his desire matches mine. It’s a bit unfair, if you think about it, how women can hide it when they’re turned on but guys can’t. Especially guys like Archer who have a big dick. Not that I feel sorry for him in that aspect, of course.
“You said you like honesty,” Archer says, voice deep, rumbling right through me. “So be honest.”
I swallow hard, throat suddenly thick. “Fine. I can be honest.” I raise my head, lips inches from his, and open my mouth. Archer tips his head down, and if he doesn’t kiss me, I think I might explode.
Archer grips my hips, pulling me to him, and I feel his cock start to harden. I melt into his embrace, remembering how good it felt to have him inside me. Even before that, the way he touched me, the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel like I was a goddess…I miss it and I need it.
I slowly bring my hand down his chest, keeping my eyes locked with his. My fingers dance over his waistband of his athletic shorts, so close to the tip of his cock.
And then the door to the bookstore opens, swinging out and almost hitting us. We jump back, separating just in time.
“Quinn!” Logan exclaims, stopping short. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
18
Archer
I blink rapidly, eyes needing to readjust to the bright sunlight around us. Everything faded for a moment there.
“And Archer. I didn’t know you were in town.” Logan’s eyes go from Quinn to me a few times before he pulls Quinn in for a hug. “I’m guessing this is why Mom’s having us all come over for dinner tonight.”
“Yeah. We’re out running errands for her,” she says, shuffling back. Sweat breaks out along my back, both from the heat of the day and almost getting caught. My judgment goes out the window when it comes to Quinn, and she got me going from zero to sixty in three seconds flat.
“What’d you buy?” Quinn asks, shifting nervously. She’s worried her brother saw us too.
“That thriller that’s being made into a movie. I refuse to see the movie until I’ve read the book.”
Out of all her brothers, Quinn and Logan are the most alike. He’s the second youngest, even though Owen is a mere handful of seconds older, and I’ve heard them joke about that bonding them.
“The one about the girl who wakes up from a car accident covered in blood and thinks her husband is a killer?” she asks.
“Yeah, that one.” Logan holds up the book. “Well, I’ll see you guys later. I need to stop in at the bar and make sure things are set up for tonight. And then find Owen.”
Quinn raises an eyebrow. “You lost him?”
“I’m not his keeper.”
“He needs you to be,” she mumbles. “Do you need me to triangulate his phone again?”
“Nah, I installed a tracking app he hasn’t noticed yet. He went home with some girls last night and I’m guessing he’s still sleeping it off somewhere.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know how you guys can look so alike but be so different.”
Logan shrugs. “Beats me. I got all the smarts, and he got all the…you know, there’s nothing he has that I don’t.”
Quinn laughs and moves her gaze from Logan to the buildings surrounding us. I remember Dean saying he was worried about Quinn when she first took her job in Chicago. The rest of her family was here in Eastwood and she moved away, though it’s not like anyone could blame her. This is a small town and she has an advanced degree in computer science. There’s nothing here for her.
Quinn’s hand lands on her stomach and she grimaces. Shit, she’s probably feeling sick again.
“You okay, sis?” Logan asks.
“Yeah, I’ve been so stressed from work it’s making me sick,” she says, waving her hand in the air. A long list of terminal illnesses rush through my head, and I have to force myself not to diagnose Quinn. There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s fine.
She has to be fine.
We say bye to Logan and move onto the next stop, and Quinn picks out two bouquets of yellow and white flowers. After that, we go to the vet to pick up medication for Rufus, and lastly, the post office to get a book of stamps.
We leave the post office in silence, and I hate how tense things are. They don’t have to be like this. I want to go back to that Friday night when Quinn and I were walking along the river.
“Quinn,” I start, mentally yelling at myself to man the fuck up and just tell her how I feel.
r /> “Archer.” She unlocks her car and opens her door. I wait until we’re both in and buckled to start talking.
“I’m sorry.”
She puts the SUV in reverse and flicks her eyes to me. “For what?”
“For not calling you. I should have called or texted or…or…something. Things are complicated, and Dean’s been a good friend to me. He’s like a brother and I…” I let out my breath, shaking my head. “It’s not a good enough excuse, I know. But I am sorry.”
Quinn bites her lip, looking out at the road as she leaves the parking space. Her brows come together, and I wish so badly to know what she’s thinking.
“Complicated. Right.” She turns down the main road out of town. “What does that even mean?”
“I’m not sure,” I say honestly.
She tightens her grip on the wheel. “Do you regret sleeping with me?”
“No. Do you regret it?”
Her lips press into a thin line and she shakes her head. Before she can answer, her phone rings. Connected to the Bluetooth in her car, the call comes up over the speakers. It’s someone from work, asking Quinn about coding. Her words are technical and lost on me, but I’d be lying if I said hearing her talk like that didn’t turn me on. The phone call goes on until we arrive back at the Dawsons’ farm, and even though we left our conversation in a very precarious place, going back would be even more awkward.
“Should I take the chicken feed into the barn?” I ask, getting out of the SUV.
“Yeah. Thanks.” She gets the other items and heads inside without me. Dean and Kara are here, everyone is in the usual meeting place: the kitchen. Quinn is leaning against the counter snacking on pretzels, Dean looks like he’s close to being bored to death, and Kara and Mrs. Dawson are bent over an iPad, intently looking at something.
“Thank the Lord,” Dean says when he sees me. “We got important video gaming to do.”
Kara looks away from the iPad, giving Dean a glare. He holds up his hands in defeat and sits back down.