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He laughed. "That good, huh?"
"Oh. My. God." Zoe switched the radio on, probably thinking he hadn't noticed the hair-band ballad pouring from his speakers.
He noticed.
"I'll have to tell my mom. Or I would if you hadn't already done it about a thousand times before we left."
“I just can't believe you have that skill set in your arsenal and you don't total obliterate it. If I could cook like your mom, I'd be as big as a house." She shook her head, and he did his best not to laugh again as he pulled away from the house and back onto the street.
It had been a good night with her, and seeing her there with his parents…
Well, that was something that made him feel warm and happy, not just because he knew how few and far between her own family moments were, but because she seemed to be enjoying herself thoroughly. She'd asked his parents about a dozen questions about their courtship and their lives, even about Ian himself. All the while she'd looked at them with real, deep contentment, like she was studying up for a book she was about to write.
Before he left, his mother had hugged him tight and whispered, "I like this one." Now, as he looked at her and half-listened to her continued ravings about his mother's cooking…?
Well, he was pretty sure he liked her, too.
"So, what do you want to do?" he asked, and she looked bemused for a minute before he went on.
“What do you want to do tonight? Go back to Connecticut or…?"
The question stretched between them, and she glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
"Well, Quinn might be back at your place. We're going to have to check there."
He nodded. "Right."
"So let's go and sleep at your house, just in case she comes back, and in the morning we'll decide what we want to do?"
The chances of Quinn going back to the house were slim, he knew that—especially if she'd seen her sister's bag in the doorway—but he couldn't bring himself to point that out to Zoe. Instead, he headed for the house, thinking of what the two of them would do when they got there and hating all the lustful thoughts that filled his head.
Like, for instance, pulling Zoe into the shower with him and seeing exactly what lay underneath that prim and proper exterior of hers.
Briefly, he wondered if she was as staid and serious in bed as she was everywhere else. But then, what if she wasn't?
Well, that would mean every ounce of
wildness in her would be reserved for the bedroom, and God only knew what that could mean for a woman like her.
In his mind's eye, he could see her on top of him, riding him hard and fast while her blond curls tumbled over her shoulders and covered her pretty, pink breasts.
She'd look good like that. Really good.
"I don't see her car," Zoe said, and in that instant, the spell was broken.
Right. Shit. Quinn. They were on this trip because of Quinn.
"Well, let's head inside anyway. It's going to get cold soon." He grabbed the bags from between them and rushed for the house, hoping his head start would buy him enough time to hide the evidence of exactly what she did to him.
But God help him if they didn't find Quinn soon.
Six
Quinn wasn't coming back here.
She'd known it the whole ride home and the long trudge up the steps. If she knew her sister—and she was sure she did—there was no way on Earth Quinn would have stayed for any longer than strictly necessary when it came to people finding out where she was when she didn't want to be found. Which left Zoe…where?
It wasn't exactly like they had limitless options, and time was running short. If her resources through Ian were gone and Dad was gone and she wasn't bringing Zoe into this… then who was left? Maybe Paul if she hadn't ditched him at the altar, but as it was…
