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He traced the side of her jaw with the back of his finger, his gaze tracking the movement, before lowering his hand and relaxing against his chair. “Roxie. She seems pretty scattered in her regular world. Flighty, some would say. But here... I don’t know... she’s more like a...”
“Drill sergeant?” She adored Roxie, she really did, but Work Roxie was truly someone to be reckoned with.
He laughed, and the deep rumble warmed her. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
His amusement made her smile.
“You know what, Alex?”
Her heart skipped. Having him so focused on her did something to her insides. It was impossible to form a coherent thought.
“What?” she managed to say.
“You have the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen.”
Heat tore through her cheeks. “Um, thanks,” she stammered. Clearly, coherent thoughts were still not her friend.
“I promise that’s not a line. It’s just a very pleasant fact of life.” He slowly stood from his seat. “I have a great idea. In honor of your first day at work, I think you should have dinner with me tonight. No Roxie this time, just you and me. Besides, after today, I’m sure the last person you’re going to want to spend extra time with is Sergeant Jameson. What do you say?”
Coherent thoughts moved fromnot her friendtomortal enemy. She feared her mouth was gaping open. Again.
“Great,” he said. “It’s a date, then.”
Wait. What?
That flirty grin graced Quinn’s lips, and she melted.
She now understood why Mrs. Abbot and Mrs. Yoshida had dissolved into a fit of giggles upon having it directed at them.
“Your place, sweetheart. Six thirty. I’ll cook and bring over everything I need.” He bent down and brushed his lips across her forehead. “See you then.”
He was out the door before she’d recovered. Her jaw remained hanging open.
Holy shit.What had just happened?
Peeking at Mrs. Abbot and Mrs. Yoshida’s table, she saw them watching her with curious, twinkling eyes.
“Looks like our little Roxie isn’t the only steamroller in town,” Mrs. Yoshida said with a chuckle. “Aside from when he was a tiny thing, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that boy move that fast before.” She nodded to Mrs. Abbot. “You?”
“No.” Mrs. Abbot winked at Alex. “No, I can’t say that I have.”
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
Alex ran through the front door and tossed her keys and purse onto the small entryway table. Six fifteen. How had it gotten so late? She dashed up the stairs to her bedroom, a trail of scattered clothing marking her path.
Flinging open the closet door, she frowned.
“Well, what’s it gonna be?” she asked herself, standing in her underwear. “The gray Unabomber sweatshirt or the equally blah T-shirt?”
The other clothing in her closet was more or less the same, only in different colors.
We’re not in Kansas anymore.
Her old wardrobe had been a whole lot nicer than the one in front of her now. While the practical part of her was fine with it, the vain part shuddered.
She pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and turned toward the vanity, searching for a brush.
“Don’t be so nervous,” she muttered. “Quinn’s just being a good neighbor. It’s not like adatedate or anything—”
