Through His Eyes

“He’s my…friend,” Quinn answers, at the same time, I say, “I’m her boyfriend.”

Everybody laughs as Quinn’s eyes bug out of her head. “Baby,” I whisper, leaning into her so only she can hear me. “What I was doing to your pussy with my tongue only a few short hours ago definitely makes us more than friends.”

Quinn gasps, her sexy neck turning that beautiful shade of pink I love, and Celeste chokes on the water she’s drinking. Oops…at least, I didn’t think anyone could hear me. Oh well.

“Did I mention I’m moving out of the townhouse?” Quinn says to no one in particular, in an attempt to change the subject. Celeste gasps, and Jase curses under his breath.

“And in with Lachlan?” Celeste clarifies.

“What? No!” Quinn says, realizing her comment was vague and made everyone jump to conclusions. “I’m moving on my own, with Kinsley.”

Jase’s shoulders drop in relief, and I chuckle. “Damn, would it be so bad if she was moving in with me?” I joke, and Jase and Jax both glare my way, which only has me laughing harder.

“We’ll be talking later,” Jase says, pointing a finger in my direction. Quinn’s eyes widen in shock, maybe fear, but once I lean over and squeeze her thigh, she calms.

We spend the next hour watching Kinsley play soccer. None of the kids are really good, but I guess you can’t expect them to be at five years old. One kid makes a goal, and another blocks one. Kinsley runs back and forth, kicking the ball a few times. A kid from the other team kicks a goal, and another one attempts one, but it gets blocked. When the game is over, the kids crowd around the coach who tells them they did a good job and passes out drinks and snacks for them.

I’m watching Kinsley open her drink and snack, when I hear Quinn yell, “Oh no!” She jumps up from her seat on the ground and rushes over to Kinsley. Concerned something has happened to her, I follow her over.

“Kins, sweetie, you have to remember,” Quinn says, her voice laced with worry.

“I’m sorry. I only forgot for a second,” Kinsley tells her with an adorable pout.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, coming up next to Quinn.

“Kinsley is allergic to raw fruit.” Quinn holds up the juice box. “It doesn’t contain a lot of natural fruit, but I’d rather not take the chance. When she was a baby, I gave her fresh peaches and her lips puffed up. I rushed her right to the emergency room, but by the time we arrived, she had rashes all over her and was having trouble breathing. I’d never been so scared in my life. After running tests, they said she has OAS, meaning she’s allergic to certain types of fruit.”

“So she can’t eat any fruit?” I ask. I had no idea a kid could be allergic to stuff like that.

“If it’s cooked she can, but not raw,” Quinn clarifies. “She has an emergency Epi-pen I keep in my purse, and one at school, in case she eats something by mistake that causes an allergic reaction.”

“Too bad you’re not allergic to vegetables,” I joke, giving Kinsley a playful wink.

She laughs. “I’m allergic to carrots!”

“Only raw,” Quinn adds with a laugh. “It’s mostly fruits, but she is also allergic to carrots.”

After everyone tells Kinsley how amazing she played, she thanks everyone for coming and hugs a couple of her cousins. I let Jase and Jax know I’ll see them at the shop later since I only work a half day on Saturdays.

Once everyone has left, and it’s only the three of us, I pull Quinn into my side and whisper, “Can I take you ladies to lunch?” so Kinsley can’t hear. A slow smile creeps up on her lips and she nods. Inside, I’m fist bumping myself. Every time she says yes, it feels like another victory in my book, another step to completely winning her over.

We head over to a café nearby to eat lunch. Kinsley spends the entire meal going over her game play by play, asking us what we thought and what she thinks she can do better next time. Afterward, Quinn offers to drop me off at the shop, since she and Kinsley are going to go meet with a friend of hers who is a realtor to show them some houses.

When I step into the shop, both Jase—who rarely ever works on the weekends—and Jax are waiting for me. “Back office,” Jase grunts. Willow, who is pretending to dust the front desk or some shit, looks up and mouths Good luck.

“Make it quick,” I tell them, “I have an appointment at noon.”

“What are your intentions with our sister?” Jax asks, getting straight to the point once we’re seated.

“To get to know her.”

“You’re aware she’s almost forty, right?” Jase adds.