I look up, feeling Quinn’s presence before I see her. She parks across the street, smiling when she sees me. I grab my bag and get out of the car.
“Hey,” I say as I slide into the passenger seat, leaning in to kiss her. A quick peck turns into something more, and I can’t pull away. Blood rushes to my cock, and the pain of being separated from Quinn for days rushes back. Long-distance relationships suck ass.
“You know,” she says, unbuckling so she can turn in and kiss me back. “There’s a cornfield on the way to my parents’ house that’s a notorious make-out spot.”
“I want to fuck you, Quinn,” I growl and kiss her hard. Quinn lets out a moan and reaches over the center console, slipping her hand between my thighs.
“On second thought, I think we should both stay at the bed and breakfast tonight.”
“I said I want to fuck you, and I plan on it no matter where we are.”
Quinn cups my balls through my pants and bites her lip. “I enjoyed phone sex this week, but it’s not as good as the real thing.”
“Not at all. Though those pictures you sent…you are so hot, Quinn.”
“I like when you say my name, Archer Jones.” She grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it up.
“As much as I hate saying this, we need to stop.” I take Quinn’s hand. “Or Weston will get a call that his sister is being arrested for indecent exposure.”
Quinn blushes. “Sorry. I got carried away.”
“Don’t apologize.”
She pulls her seatbelt back across her body and gets her phone from her purse. “Owen and Logan just got to my parents’. Ready?”
I reach over and take Quinn’s hand. “Let’s go.”
Quinn puts her Porsche in drive and fiddles with the radio the entire way to her parents’ house. We park behind Weston’s squad car, and I take Quinn’s hand and we walk inside together.
The dogs come running, and the smell of chicken enchiladas fills the air. Laughter echoes through the house, and that instant feel-good aura the Dawson farm holds sets in. This place is safe and warm. It’s welcoming and full of comfort. It was my reprieve in college when Bobby was at the height of his addiction.
“Quinn!” Kara says, looking up from the wine she’s trying to open. “And Archer?”
“Hey, Kara,” I say. Quinn pets each dog and goes over to give Kara a hug. She pulls a bottle of wine from her large purse.
“Oh!” Kara squeals. “That’s the good stuff!”
“Yeah, from that little winery in Chicago you all love.”
“Let’s crack it open.”
I crouch down and pet Rufus, noticing more and more gray fur around his eyes. He leans into me, turning his head up so I can scratch under his chin. Kara grabs two wine glasses, and Quinn fills them both up. Kara takes one, and Quinn takes the other. I look at the wine and then at Quinn.
“You can’t drink,” I whisper.
She rolls her eyes at me. “Should have told me that sooner, doctor. I’ve been boozing it up every night.” She waits a beat for Kara to step farther ahead. “It’s for my mom. I figure liquoring her up won’t hurt.”
Now that I’m here, I’m no longer nervous. The timing isn’t right, and we might have started things a little backward, but it’ll work out in the end.
I know it will.
“There you are!” Mrs. Dawson says, smiling when she sees Quinn. And then her eyes go to me, brows furrowing for just a split second. She’s surprised to see me, but not in a bad way. “Archer!” She gets up, giving Quinn a quick hug and coming over to me. “What are you doing here? Does this mean you took the job at our county hospital?”
“Not quite,” I say, though I did get invited back for a second interview.
“Here, Mom.” Quinn shoves the glass of wine into her mom’s hand. “It’s from that place in Chicago you like.”
Mrs. Dawson takes a sip. “I do like this. Thanks, Quinn. Go ahead and sit, kids. I’ll grab another place setting for Archer.”
“Finally,” Owen grumbles to Quinn. “Mom’s been making us wait for you.”
Quinn raises her eyebrows. “You’ve only been here for like ten minutes, and your beer is still full. You guys just sat down.”
“You’re too damn smart,” Owen says with a smile.
“Language,” Mr. Dawson reminds him, looking at Jackson. “Little ears are at the table tonight.”
Quinn goes around to Jackson, picking him up and giving him a big hug. I don’t mean to smile as I watch her, thinking how she’ll get to do the same with our kid.
“Hey, man,” Dean says. “Didn’t know you were coming. Are you taking that job?”
Quinn looks over the table at me. She knows about the second interview, but the last time we talked, we both agreed it wasn’t for me. Though seeing her with Jackson, surrounded by her family is making me reconsider.
“It hasn’t been offered yet, but I don’t know.”
“It’s a small hospital,” Quinn says, setting Jackson down. “And you want to get into a trauma fellowship.”
“More school?” Logan asks, eyebrows raised. “You like torture, don’t you?”
“I guess I do.”
Quinn comes back around the table, taking a seat next to me. Weston eyes Quinn and then me several times, and I pretend like I don’t notice. Mrs. Dawson sets a placemat, a plate, a full glass of ice water, and silverware down in front of me. Quinn scoots her chair a little closer to mine, and I slip my hand into hers and give it a squeeze. Meals at the Dawsons’ are always served family-style, and we all fill our plates. Quinn pushes her food around, not eating. She’s still dealing with constant nausea, and the nerves aren’t helping.
“Well, since you’re all here,” Kara starts, a big smile breaking out over her face. She turns to Dean, smile growing even more. “We picked a date for the wedding!”
Mrs. Dawson cheers and Quinn looks relieved she has some time. “When?”
“March sixteenth. I know it’s a little soon, but it falls on my spring break and the arboretum just happened to have a cancelation. I got on the wait list the day after Dean proposed and when they called to see if I wanted the date, I knew it was fate!”
Quinn turns her head down, eyes wide. March sixteenth is two days before our baby’s due date.
25
Quinn
I need a drink. A big one. With lots and lots of alcohol. I close my eyes in a long blink, praying I misheard Kara.
“That’s less than a year away!” Mom exclaims. “Do you think you can get everything ready in time?”
March isn’t that far away, she’s right. And there is a lot to do before then, and I’m not thinking about the wedding.
“I think we can swing it,” Kara says. “I’ll have to get right to work, I know, and my mom’s already on it.” She looks back at Dean, smiling. “We don’t want anything fancy, anyway.”
I bring my hand to my head, subconsciously rubbing the space between my jaw and my ear. It’s been hurting off and on since last weekend, and I knew I should have listened to Archer about a sinus infection lingering for longer than normal now that I’m pregnant.
“Are you okay, hun?” Mom asks, and I flick my eyes up to her.
“Oh, yeah. I think I have an ear infection, that’s all,” I blurt. I should have made something up, but I’ve never been a good liar and not telling the truth is as bad as lying in Mom’s book. r />
“I thought you said you were feeling better,” Archer says, turning to me.
“I was,” I say guiltily. “But I got busy with work and started feeling crappy again. You were right about the cold turning into something more.”
“Wait a minute,” Weston says, eyes narrowing. It clicks in my mind right before he says it. “Why does Archer know you were sick?”
Dean stares at me before shifting his gaze to Archer. “Is he your doctor or something now?”
Shit. Shit. Shit. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Damn you, Archer. Stop being so genuinely concerned for me, why don’t ya?
I inhale, look at Archer, and give him a tiny nod. “No, he’s not my doctor now. He’s my boyfriend.”
Dean lets out a snort. “Funny.”
Archer puts his arm around me, and I lean in, needing his support. “Quinn and I are dating,” he says, voice steady. “That’s why I came to dinner tonight. We wanted to tell you.”
Silence falls over the table. No one talks. No one breathes. And then Dean’s fist comes down on the table.
“You’re dating my sister?”
“Dean,” Mom scolds, sticking to her don’t raise your voice at the dinner table rules.
“My sister?” Dean repeats, looking at Logan, Owen, and Weston. He expects them to be outraged like he is. Weston gives me a guilty look, feeling bad for outing us. Logan’s expression is unreadable, and Owen, that asshole, is amused.
“What the hell, man?” Dean waves his hand out in front of him. “Did you even think to stop and ask my permission before you made a move on her?”
“Permission?” I echo. “Seriously, Dean? Like I need your approval before I date someone. Like I need any of your approval.”
Wrong choice of words. Everyone starts talking at once. Jackson gets up from the table, running into the kitchen while no one is looking.
“You don’t own me,” I retort, narrowing my eyes at my brother. “Or Archer. We can see whoever we want and we want to see each other.”
“But he’s my best friend,” Dean says, turning from the table.