Page 39 of Under Pressure

Blowing out a tight breath, I give my head a shake. The smile that tugs at my lips istoorelaxed, but I don’t focus on that right now.

“I was worried you’d taken off on me again.”

“Yeah, I get that. Sorry again. Come in.” She moves quickly, her hands fidgeting as she moves around me and locks the door behind me. “You can sit wherever. Want a muffin?”

“Only if you’ve got the good stuff left,” I say, softening my voice.

Her nerves are obvious now, concerning, especially when I’ve never seen her emotions so accessible before. It worries me a bit. Even more than her closing up early does. Though I assume those go hand in hand.

She disappears into the kitchen for a heartbeat before reappearing with a plate of muffins. The pink tint to them has my grin turning a lot more genuine.

I remember everything we spoke about the night before I left. From her surprising interest in my career to the lack of confidence in her answers regarding her own future, there was a lot of information that I stored away in my memory bank. It was the first time she’s even been open with me in that way, and it did my fucking head in all week.

Is that why she’s so on edge right now? Because she’s thinking about it, too?

I take the opportunity to check her out, knowing that once she kicks the nerves, she’ll notice every time I let my eyes slip.Without her apron, I have a full, unrestricted view of her body. One lingering look is all it takes for my cock to swell against my zipper, oh so very pleased that we’re here after so long away.

Her plain white V-neck long-sleeve is tight against herverygenerous chest, and I can just make out the shadow of the black bra she’s wearing beneath it. A woman like Quinn doesn’t come across as someone who’d be wearing something lined in lace or bows to work, which leads my mind down a very dirty path of imagining her tits swelling in plain black cotton. It’s a reaction that I don’t have a chance in fuck of understanding. I’ve just started accepting that I’d enjoy looking at Quinn in a garbage bag as long as it meant I could still see her.

The straight-legged, light-washed jeans hugging her hips and flaring slightly at the calf are what I’ve come to expect her to be wearing. She’d got a specific style that seems to do it for me. Add the white Nikes on her feet, and I’m a fish with a hook caught in my chest. They’re identical to the ones I’m wearing.

“You closed early,” I note, shifting my gaze to the plate of muffins on the table I’m assuming is ours now.

“I didn’t want anyone to overhear what I have to say.”

“Okay . . .”

She jabs a finger at the chair across from the one she’s pulling out for herself. “Sit.”

“Yes, baby.”

Her eyes narrow as I take my seat and lean back with my arms crossed. “This is serious.”

“Did something happen? Is that why you didn’t text me all week?”

“What? No. Nothing happened.”

“The old ghosting trick, then,” I muse.

“I didn’t ghost you. Were you expecting me to pine after you all week and send you ‘I miss you’ texts?”

“I mean, it would have been nice, yeah.”

Her sharp tongue is back, and that’s more than enough reassurance that I didn’t fuck up badly enough to lose all the groundI gained the other night. Quinn might be nervous about something, but she’s still my girl.

She taps her naked fingernails on the table before sucking in a breath. “Do you remember Ruthie? The woman from the other day?”

“The one with the silver hair who seems to think we’re madly in love? Yeah, I remember.”

“Okay, hold your horse. She doesn’t think we’re madly in love. But yeah, that’s her.” She fiddles with the clip holding her hair back and removes it, letting those thick auburn strands fall down her shoulders. My fingers dance across my thigh. “I may have told her something that I shouldn’t have.”

That distracts me from the pulsing need to touch her hair. “Told her what?”

Quinn draws her bottom lip between her teeth, gnawing down on it while she reaches for a muffin and rips the top off. I hide my laugh behind a forced cough, then do the nice thing of taking one for myself and taking a bite from the top so her move doesn’t seem as out of place. I’m halfway through chewing when she speaks.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve dated, alright? Let’s get that out of the way right now. I don’t havetimeto date. I mean, obviously. Look around. You come here often enough to know that I’m always working. I don’t even have the time to go to the salon to get my hair cut, so I’ve forced my sister into learning the basics just so I can conquer my split ends from time to time.” She shoves a hand through her hair and tugs it behind her, draping it over the back of her chair. “Ruthie is a busybody. She loves to insert herself into my life and thinks that I’m doing myself some great disservice by not going out and getting laid or falling in love. So, when she started pushing her grandson on me, I panicked.”

I blink, nodding regardless of how little any of that I’ve actually registered. My mind remains focused on the fact that shehasn’t gotten laid in a while, as if that’s the most important tidbit of knowledge here.