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That feeling of invincibility had transformed him into a complete idiot as far as she’d been concerned. Hence why he’d turned a blind eye to her faults, of which there had been many.
Isabel had lied, manipulated, and schemed. Always the victim, nothing had ever been her fault. Ever.
But Quinn had eaten all that shit up because he’d believed he, and he alone, could do what no one else had been able to do: save her from her shitty past.
Being with Isabel had been emotionally exhausting. She’d been unstable. Narcissistic. Sociopathic. He’d recognized all that. And had ignored it. What he’d missed? She’d also been an addict.
If it had been anyone other than Joe who’d found Isabel’s gigantic stash of cocaine in Quinn’s bedside table, his career would’ve been over. He would have been booted from the FBI, and he sure as shit wouldn’t have become the sheriff of his hometown.
It had taken that threat to his career to lift the fog over his vision. He’d cut her loose without a second thought.
But it still pissed him off that it had taken him so long to see what had been clear to everyone else. So many people had told him that she was trouble, that she was playing him like a fucking fiddle, but he had been so content in the damn white knight role that he’d ignored them all.
For his own sanity, he needed to treat Alex like she was just as dangerous as Isabel. Hehadto.
But he couldn’t.
The more time he spent with her, the deeper she got under his skin. His gut said she wasnothinglike Isabel, but his head reminded him that he’d been tricked before. It was a fucked-up internal tug-of-war. But his gut was winning out.
These last two weeks, he’d stopped by Comfort Food every morningto sit and have coffee with her. Every evening, they’d had dinner together with Roxie. Day after day, as her bruises had slowly faded, she’d gradually begun to open up.
He wouldn’t fool himself. He knew Alex’s increasing comfort was all thanks to Roxie. His friend had the uncanny ability to make people feel at ease. He was just happy to be along for the ride. The glimpses he’d caught of Alex’s strength, determination, and feistiness, combined with her lingering vulnerability, tugged at his heart. Hell, at every part of his being.
Then there was the physical attraction he had for her. It was borderline ridiculous. He could stare at her for hours—and he’d done just that during their nightly dinners. Her whiskey-brown eyes held tiny flecks of gold, and he could have sworn they sparkled when she laughed. Sappy as fuck, for sure. But he was okay with a little sappiness when it came to her.
He loved how petite she was—her head barely came up to the middle of his chest. He’d had more than one fantasy about pulling her small frame to him and removing the claw-looking contraption from her hair. He wanted to tangle his fingers in those soft black waves. And her lips...
With a groan and a quick glance around to make sure he was still alone, he adjusted himself.Shit. He had to stop thinking about her like that.
Dinner, dammit. He needed to focus on dinner.
Tonight was about getting to know each other.WithoutRoxie. He was reluctant to get involved with anyone again—
No. He wasn’t going to lie to himself. There was no point.
Hewantedto get involved with Alex. And hereallywanted to be Alex’s white knight, to slay every one of her fucking dragons, even knowing how that had turned out for him last time.
That should worry him. White knight syndrome led to disaster.
But strangely enough, when his relationship with Isabel had imploded, his heart had been fine. Only his pride had been wounded.
With Alex, something told him it would be much more complicated. But that same something told him it would be worth it.
* * *
Returning to the kitchen, Alex paused in the archway. A smile spread across her face as the savory aroma of sautéing garlic and onions engulfed her senses. Her mouth watered.
“Jeez, I leave you alone for a few minutes and you have the place smelling divine.” She joined Quinn at the stove. “What are you cooking?”
“It’s a surprise.” He grinned. “You like garlic?”
“Who doesn’t?” She reached for the covered pan to sneak a peek and chuckled when he playfully swatted her hand away.
“Go make yourself useful,” he said, gesturing toward the kitchen island. “There are a couple bottles of wine in the bag. Can you bring them over?”
At the island, she paused. And stared.
She watched as he added more spices to the mystery concoction, and a sigh escaped her lips. The man was ridiculously attractive. And cooking. For her. How could that not make her sigh?
