“Come on, you know you want to tell me,” I tease, swinging our joined hands between us.
She lets out a breath, her eyes closing for a second before she says, “I’m twenty-nine.”
I smile as I say, “Man, you look amazing for your age, seriously, not a day over twenty-five.”
“Kai!” she squeals, elbowing me in the side.
“What?” I ask, laughing as we turn down the long drive that leads to her rental house.
“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head, her smile wide.
“No, seriously, what?” I ask, grinning.
“I don’t look a day over twenty-five?”
“You don’t, seriously,” I say.
“And yet age is just a number?” she asks.
“Yep.”
“So the fact I’m turning thirty in two weeks is also not a problem?” she asks.
I stop, my grip on her hand tightening as she also stops walking, turning to face me. I take a step closer to her, watching as her eyes widen a little. “It’s not a problem to me,” I whisper, my eyes locked with hers. Quinn swallows hard, her hand still in mine as she stares back at me. I take another step closer, feeling her hand tighten its grip on mine. “Like I said, Quinn,” I whisper, my eyes dropping to her mouth. “Age is just a number, and I happen to find older women incredibly sexy.”
Quinn blinks, her eyes now focused on my mouth. I can’t resist licking my bottom lip, watching as her eyes widen again before she blinks and looks away. And for just a second, I swear if I’d leaned in and kissed her, she would have let me. Would have kissed me back even.
“Come on,” I say, knowing that the moment has passed. “Let’s get you home.”
Quinn wordlessly walks beside me, her hand still in mine as we head up the steps to her front door, where the pineapple still hangs upside down. Quinn lets go of my hand as she pulls her keys from her pocket.
“You haven’t fixed it?” I ask, gesturing to the pineapple.
“I can’t find the nail,” she says, her eyes scanning the dark front porch. “I’ll get to it eventually.”
I smile, chuckling a little as I turn to her and say, “I mean, maybe that’s your thing, but if it isn’t, you should fix it.”
“What? What do you mean?”
My grin widens as I take the keys from her hand and unlock the front door. “Swinging.”
“What?”
I place a hand on her lower back, guiding her toward the open door. “An upside-down pineapple is the universal symbol for swingers, Quinn. I mean, not gonna lie, it’s not really my thing, but if you’re?—”
“Oh my god, are you serious?” she says, turning to look around the porch, a look of desperation on her face.
Laughing, I pull her in for a hug, my mouth against her ear as I say, “Relax, I’ll come by first thing tomorrow and fix it for you.”
“No, it’s fine, you don’t have to do that.”
Pulling back, I hit her with a grin as I say, “Sure I do, that’s what friends are for, right? Night, Quinn,” I add, giving her a kiss on the cheek before I turn and head into the night.
I wake to the sound of pounding, and at first, I think it’s someone knocking, but as I lie here, half awake, it dawns on me that it’s a hammer.
Kai.
Rolling over, I glance at the clock through one open eye, seeing it’s a quarter after six. What the hell is he doing up so damn early? Doesn’t he know that normal people aren’t up this early, and if they are, they’re certainly not hammering a nail into someone’s front door?
