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Praying he wouldn't be too pissed, I slid my phone back into my pocket and headed inside. "He mad?" Brian asked.
I laughed. "Nope, he understands."
"Good." Brian grabbed a stack of forms. "Pull a chair up, and let's start."
We went over the intake forms, making some changes due to the new programs Brian wanted to implement, then met with the patient. His name was Sam, and he was in his sixties. Gray hair, rough beard, bloated cheeks, beer belly. He gave off the desperate, angry vibe I'd seen from long-term alcoholics who didn't think they'd ever stop, but were tired of living in the gutter. I watched the way Brian dealt with Sam, balancing the fine line of support with tough love. We spent a long time with him, and I realized it was one of the best intakes I'd ever been involved in. Even in just that hour, I learned a lot.
When Sam was settled, we got back to his office, and the Chinese food was laid out in cartons. My stomach rumbled loudly. Brian laughed. "I know. As long as you don't care, I say let's ditch the plates and dig right in."
I collapsed into the chair, grabbed a box of lo mein, and dug out a plastic fork from the paper bag. "Done." He passed over a Diet Coke can, and we ate in happy silence, slurping noodles and savoring the salty spiciness of garlic sauce.
"You're amazing with the patients," I said in between bites. "It's like you know what they need right at the perfect time."
He took a sip of his soda. "Lots of practice. Studying. It doesn't come overnight, but I have to tell you, Quinn, you have a knack. People respond to you."
I shrugged. "I was always the one my friends came to," I explained. "They'd tell me their secrets. I think they knew I could be trusted."
He shook his head. Those light brown eyes turned serious. "It's more than that. You actually care. There's this vibe inside of you that makes people want to be close to you. Makes you feel safe."
Startled, I looked up. Our eyes met and locked. A current of awareness surged between us, but then it disappeared, and I tried to pretend it never happened. "Oh, my God, what time is it?"
He glanced at his watch. "Ten."
"I gotta go." I wiped my mouth with a napkin and began gathering up the cartons to help clean up. "Thanks for dinner. I have to get home."
"I'll drive you."
"No, it's a short walk."
I clumsily tipped over the rice, and he grabbed my hand. "Quinn, you're not walking. I'll drive you home right now."
I held my breath, withdrew my hand, and nodded. "Okay. Thanks."
He dumped everything in the trash, grabbed his coat and keys, and headed out. The air was an arctic blast that numbed my skin, and I was glad for the ride. I shivered in my coat, and he clicked on the button to heat my seat. "Why did you move from Florida again?" I muttered, tucking my head down for warmth.
He laughed. "Too much sun makes you underappreciate a good day."
"Try me."
"Seriously, I missed the seasons. There's something about embracing the changes in the weather, like changes in life. When summer hits, I'll be able to savor every last drop of sunshine."
I smiled. "I like the way you think. You're a very positive person."
"So are you, Quinn Harmon."
The silence thickened. I swallowed, keeping my head down, and gave him the brief directions toward my apartment. Finally, he pulled up to the curb. "Thank you so much for the ride."
"Thanks for staying."
I slid off the seat, ready to jump out of the car, but he cut the engine and walked around to open my door. "Be careful. There's ice." Before I could say anything, he gripped my arm in a firm hold, tucking me into his body.
We reached the door, and I stepped quickly away. "Thanks again."
Very gently, he touched my cheek. "Any time."
Uncomfortable with the intimate look and his touch, I stepped back and fell into James's arms.
Oh, he was pissed.
A mixture of chilly displeasure and hot temper swirled in those blue eyes. "Hello, Brian," he clipped out. "I see we meet again."
Brian frowned. "I'm sorry I kept Quinn late at work."
James stared at him, his face tight. I knew he wanted to blast him, but knowing Brian was my boss, James managed to hold back. "Next time, let me know if she needs a ride. I can take care of her."
Tension swirled in the air. The challenge was delivered. Brian stepped back as if accepting defeat. "Of course. Good night."
James shut the door and dragged me inside. "What the hell is going on, Quinn?"
"I'm sorry! I know I texted you saying eight, but I had a patient intake, and it ran late, and then Brian ordered Chinese food, and we were talking, and I forgot about the time." My explanation sounded lame to my ears, but it was the truth. I took off my coat, turned, and saw the room.
Oh. My. God.
He'd set up a card table with a pretty floral tablecloth. Candles were lit, and the air was scented with apple spice. Two plates lay out with small portions of steak, baked potatoes, and green beans. A bottle of wine was uncorked in the center of the table. A white envelope lay on my chair. Stunned, I walked over to the beautiful table, my heart beating wildly. He'd set up the perfect dinner for me, and I'd ruined it. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling like crap.
"James, I'm so sorry," I said again. "I didn't know you were going to do this."
"You're never late," he said. "When you say eight, you always mean eight. Why do you and Brian seem cozied up? What's really going on?"
"Nothing! He's just being nice to me, and it's all about work." A tiny sliver of guilt pierced through me, but I didn't want to say anything about a touch when it probably meant nothing. It would only make matters worse, and I couldn't have James upsetting my chance for the full-time job.
"You could've called me to pick you up."
"It was just faster! I swear, I didn't want this to happen. I was looking forward to seeing you tonight."
His face hardened. "But not enough, right?"
I went over to him and reached out, but he jerked back. Oh, boy, this was bad. I had to get him to understand. "James, I want this job. I thought you supported this."
"For God's sake, I've been supporting you endlessly! I want you to have it all, but lately, I feel like a fucking pity case, like I'm at the bottom of your list. We haven't talked or had a date or even fucked in a while. So, I'm asking again, what the hell is going on?"
My temper snapped. I was tired, stressed, and didn't need a jealous boyfriend making me feel guilty. "You're not a pity case. You're the man I love! Is it so hard to just be patient for a while? Everything is happening at once, and I just need some damn space!"
Silence fell between us. I bit my lip. That hadn't come out right. "I didn't mean--"
"Fuck this. You want space? I'll give you as much as you need. Let me know when you're available." He grabbed his jacket and headed toward the door.
"Don't leave! James, please. Aren't you staying over tonight?"
He shook his head and gave me a h
ard look. "You have a paper to write, remember? Call me when I'm not in the way."
The door slammed.
I fisted my hands. Tears burned my lids. What was happening to us? Why did I say such things when all I wanted was to be held in his arms? I went over to the table and opened up the envelope. The card was simple, a sketched-out caricature of a couple holding hands, sitting on a wall, watching a sunset. I opened it up and found the simple scrawl.
It's always been you, and always will be. Love, James.
I gripped the card tight between my fingers and vowed I'd fix everything.
Chapter Ten
JAMES
I TRIED TO GET MY HEAD together when I walked into class. The whole scene with Quinn bothered me, and I hadn't slept at all last night. Finally, that morning, she'd called me. The moment I heard her voice, I forgave her. I knew we were both handling a lot, but seeing her come home, and that dickhead touching her cheek like he owned her, well, I just lost it. We both apologized and said we'd talk tomorrow night. I just had to work harder at finding more time to be with her. Especially in bed. Giving her multiple orgasms.
Ava was already speaking with one of the other students, so I set up my station. I loved the progress on my newest portrait, and felt solid she would, too. I'd followed the rules and incorporated all the techniques, but added another layer of whimsy I thought made it unique. The new sketch showed a woman after an orgasm, staring at her lover. I had worked hard on capturing that subtle gleam of polished skin after fucking; the softened, slightly bruised lips, the touch of wonderment and satisfaction in her eyes. I'd studied Quinn's face time and time again and would never get bored trying to capture the essence of her sexuality. It haunted me, pushing me to get it on paper.
Heels clicked and stopped behind me. The earthy scent of musk that reminded me of sex drifted to my nostrils. I felt Ava's scorching gaze take in my portrait, and my gut clenched. Ever since our conversation at the art store, I thought maybe she'd change her attitude toward me. Instead, she spent our last session treating me like shit, as if she'd never admitted I had raw talent.
