Page 133 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

“I know.”

“I have obligations. Family responsibilities. Complications with the pack. My mother’s care. The business. The relics. The legal disputes that come with old losses and current money.” I looked down at my hands. There was still grass on one cuff. “I wouldn’t ask someone to step into that unless I was certain I could offer more than attention in stolen hours and problems they hadn’t chosen. And I know that probably sounds cold.”

For several seconds, she said nothing.

The wind moved through the grass, soft and steady.

When she spoke, her voice was careful. “That’s not cold.”

I looked at her.

“You think love is something people deserve to understand before they agree to it,” she said. “There’s nothing cold about that.”

I could not answer.

She had done it again. Found the human shape inside a structure I had mistaken for armor.

Her eyes lowered, then lifted again. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think anyone ever understands what they’re agreeing to completely.”

“No?”

“No. People change. Life changes. Dogs get old. Doors break. Jobs don’t pay enough. Someone’s mother gets sick. Someone’s plan falls apart. You can’t disclose every future cost up front like terms and conditions.”

“That seems irresponsible.”

“It is,” she said, and smiled a little. “It’s also probably why people do it with vows instead of contracts.”

I looked at her for too long, and she held my gaze.

There was nothing between Quinn and me but grass, air, and a series of reasons I had been rehearsing for days.

Her gaze dropped to my mouth.

Then Max twitched in his sleep and huffed.

Quinn blinked, and the sudden tension eased.

She looked down at him, smiling with visible gratitude and regret. “His timing is either terrible or excellent.”

“Both,” I said, standing before I could do something unwise. I offered her my hand to help her up. She took it, and this time, when she rose, she didn’t let go immediately. Neither did I. Her fingers were warm, and there was a grass stain on the hem of her skirt.

I wanted her.

That was no longer in question.

The question was whether wanting her could ever become something honorable. Something feasible.

I released her hand first.

“We should get Max back before he’s too deeply asleep to move,” I said.

Quinn nodded, though something in her expression told me she knew exactly what I had done.

“Right,” she said with a small smile. “Logistics.”

I let out a small breath.

This trip had been for the dog.