Friendly Fire (Ricochet 2)

More pushing with the straw.

“Quinn, look at me.”

Rick waited several excruciating seconds for Quinn to drop the straw and lift her gaze to his. Those big doe eyes, long black lashes fluttering around the golden amber depths, turned him inside out just like they did the very first time he saw them.

“Talk to me, doll. I’m the same guy as I was before. The one who laughed with you at the grocery store as we discussed the pros and cons of almond milk.”

Quinn smiled. “Almond milk. I forgot about that.”

Rick shook his head with a chuckle. “How could you forget one of the strangest conversations to ever take place?” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Your father’s estate?”

To Rick’s surprise, she didn’t yank her hand away. Instead, Quinn laced their fingers together. “There’s not a buyer for the house yet. There was one, but the contract fell through. I’m tired, Rick. I mourned my dad three years ago when he died. Now it feels like I’m doing it all over again.”

He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I’m sorry. If I can do anything to help you out, let me know.” He wanted to know why she waited three years to take care of her fathe

r’s estate, but the waitress chose to deliver their food before he could ask.

Quinn pulled her hand back onto her lap when their plates were set down. Rick missed the contact, the warmth he felt from her touch, and not just in his hand. Being close to Quinn made his entire body vibrate, giving him a reassuring, floating feeling that made his skin hum with pleasure.

Neither of them needed anything else, so the server left them alone. Miraculously, Quinn continued their conversation without him having to spur her on for details.

“Once I get a buyer, I still have to get the rest of the furniture out. My realtor and lawyer said a furnished house sells better so—” Quinn shrugged, letting the sentence trail off as she took a bite of her sandwich.

Is this really what they were going to talk about? Real estate?

Rick wanted to ask what was going on between the two of them, about their relationship or lack thereof. He wanted to know if she felt the same overwhelming pull that he did, if she wanted him the way he wanted her… permanently.

Instead, he continued discussing Quinn’s future, a future that didn’t appear to include him.

“Do you have any plans to get a car of your own?” Rick had been wondering why Quinn was still driving Mack’s old beater of a truck. If she got an inheritance, it made sense to Rick that she would use some of the money to purchase a car.

“I want to. I don’t have a license yet.”

Rick grinned. “No license? But you’re driving Mack’s truck? Does he know this, you little law breaker?”

For the first time in a long time, Rick heard Quinn laugh. A loud, genuine laugh that rang through his heart and touched his soul.

“Law breaker? Hardly,” she scoffed. “I just don’t want to go through the trouble to get a license and then have to change my…” The conversation came to an abrupt halt. Quinn looked up at Rick slack-mouthed, with discernible fear in her wide eyes.

“Change? Change what?”

She waved a shaky hand in the air dismissively. “Nothing. I don’t know what I was saying.”

Rick knew she was lying. He didn’t even need the extensive interrogation training he received in the Marines to see the blatant lie.

What in the hell is she hiding from me?

He was getting damn sick of the evasiveness and the games that Quinn played. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the time or the place to get into an argument with her and he promised that he wouldn’t push her to discuss things. Rick silently seethed, clenching his hands under the table.

The rest of the meal was finished quickly. Neither of them touched on subjects other than safe, impersonal ones, sports, traffic, and the weather.

Fuck! I’m sitting here discussing the mother fucking weather while the girl I love slips through my fingers.

Love? A bolt of fear shot through Rick’s heart, jump starting it until it was pumping erratically against his chest.

I love her?

Rick mulled it over as they drove back to Quinn’s apartment, turning it over in his mind a hundred different ways with no clear answer. He walked her up the stairs, waiting for her to unlock the door. As he stood there watching her, the sun glinting off of the golden highlights in her dark hair, it finally hit him, sucking the air from his lungs.