“You’re not.”
“I’m worried about all the things I told you, things that are deeply personal and I thought in that moment I shared it was okay, because the information was contained. No one would know, and when you returned to Seattle, you’d forget all about me, but here we are, in my favorite coffee place in Marietta, and I’m pretty sure you remember everything I told you.”
“Of course.”
“So you can see why I feel as if my ‘sharing’ was a mistake?”
“I was open, too. I shared about Alice and my relationship, because that’s what people do.”
“Alice didn’t treat you badly, though. Greg was pretty awful. I didn’t realize you’d actually meet him one day.”
“I’d love five minutes in a boxing ring with him—”
“No!”
“He doesn’t belong in this town. We don’t treat women badly in this town.”
“But that’s what I mean. I’ve had really different experiences here in Marietta than you have. People do love you, Quinn. People don’t love the Wrights. We have really different backgrounds, and we come from different families.”
“I knew your dad in high school. He wasn’t a bad man, Charity.”
She hated that Quinn knew about her father’s drinking. It had been out of control for years. “We struggled a lot financially. There was a time where we wouldn’t have survived if not for the kindness of strangers, as well as the support of local churches and charities.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I’ve always hated my name because it’s how we existed. On charity.”
“Our ranch in Paradise Valley got by on a wing and a prayer,” he answered. “It was badly managed. My dad wasn’t cut out to be a rancher. He didn’t know the first thing about taking care of the land.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“Talk to Rory. He’ll tell you. The ranch was a disaster. My folks were deeply in debt when they died.” His brow creased and his jaw hardened. He waited a moment before adding, “There’s a reason I own a big house in Paradise Valley with just a couple acres of land. I want the privacy, without the property. I don’t want to graze cattle. I don’t want to breed horses. I don’t want to wear chaps or play cowboy. I love the valley with the views of the mountains and the river, but I’m not cut out to be a rancher. It’s a hard life, especially come winter, and I’ve known since I was eleven years old that it’s not for me.”
“So even before the—tragedy—on your place?”
“Yes.” His gaze met hers and held. “I’ve only ever wanted to play ball. I was that kid that slept with his glove. My mom used to throw the ball to me when I was still in diapers. My dad and Rory would be out working somewhere and she’d be at the stove, making dinner, and I’d bring her a ball and beg her to play with me.”
Charity’s chest felt so terribly tender. “She’d be so proud of what you’ve done.”
He shrugged. “The point is, I don’t talk about my mom with just anyone. I rarely mentioned my family to Alice. There was no reason to. But it’s different with you. I feel comfortable talking to you, and I think it’s because you don’t have any expectations of who I’m supposed to be. You just accept me for me.”
“So you don’t care that my mom took us to the thrift store behind the gun shop to do our back-to-school shopping?”
“No.”
“And you don’t care that we never bought our own Thanksgiving turkeys until Jenny had her first job and was able to buy it for us herself?”
“No.”
She glanced down at her cup and noted the pale pink smudge from her lipstick on the rim. She rubbed at the mark. It faded but couldn’t be completely erased. “Okay,” she said softly.
“Okay?”
She lifted her head and looked at him, her chest still overly tight. He’d impressed her as the handsome, charming sportswriter Douglas Quincy, but as tough, uncompromising Quinn Douglas, he absolutely touched her heart.
“Well?” he prompted quietly. “What do you think?”
She wanted to reach out to him, to slip her hand into his. She wanted contact and connection and closeness, but those things created risk. She wanted him in her world, without the risk. “We can do this,” she said. “I’d like to still be friends.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“But I worry about something.”
He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. “I’m listening.”
And he was. His blue gaze focused intently on her mouth, and his expression was attentive. He was so close she could see flecks of silver in his blue eyes and the fine lines at the corner of his eyes. His skin was still lightly tan, revealing all the hours he spent out in the sun. Her finger itched to trace the light creases and his dense black lashes.
“I could use a friend like you,” she said carefully. “But Quinn, this is such a small world.”
“I know.”
“People will get involved. They’ll say things. They’ll judge.”
“You mean Carol Bingley and her crew might gossip, but Sadie won’t ever gossip or judge, and your sister won’t, and my sister won’t, either. They all love you, and they respect you, and conveniently, they all respect me.”
She couldn’t look away from his lovel
y face. It astonished her that in just days he’d become familiar and dear. “You have friends. You have fans—thousands and thousands of them. Let’s be honest, you don’t need me in your life—”
“Are you for real?” he demanded, jaw flexing.
Her face burned, and she dropped her gaze. “I’m trying to be honest, and practical. I think being honest is essential, which is why I want you to agree that the moment this… friendship… is a burden or a hassle, in any way, we let it go.”
“Friends don’t drop friends because one is a burden or a hassle. Furthermore, I can’t imagine you would ever be a burden or a hassle. That’s Greg the Schmuck filling your head with nonsense. I want you on my team. I picked you for my team. I’m not letting you go.”
“I’ve never really been on a team, other than with my sister.”
“I have. I’ve spent my life on teams, and the best teams, the most successful teams work together, stick together, and look out for each other.”
“Got it,” she said.
“Good. Now join us for dinner tonight. McKenna has booked a big table at Rocco’s. McKenna and Trey, Sadie and Rory, with their four hundred kids—”
She laughed at that, her snort not muffled enough.
His hands lifted. “Okay, there aren’t four hundred. There are only three I know of, but it can feel like four hundred when they all start crying at the same time.” His smile warmed. “Come on. Join us. McKenna and Sadie would love to have you there. They’re your friends. We’re all your friends.”
She was tempted by the invitation, so tempted, but she’d already made plans with her sister for tonight and maybe it was for the best, as her feelings for Quinn were far stronger than she’d first imagined, and strong feelings were dangerous, because they weren’t in a romantic relationship.
“I wish I could,” she said, “but Mandy and I have planned a girls’ night in for tonight. After work, we’re meeting for pizza and a glass of wine.”
“I’m glad. I know you’ve missed her.”
And yet she already regretted turning him down for tonight. She would have enjoyed dinner with him and his family. “Maybe another time before you leave? When do you leave?”