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Troy gulped and blinked a few times, as if he were holding back tears, then nodded. “OK. But when I looked for you downstairs, it was very dark, and I couldn’t see you anywhere, and then I heard your voice, and it sounded funny. Like you were angry. So I got worried. And when I tried to come inside, the door was locked, and I heard more strange noises, and I got scared.”
“Yeah,” Beckett said. “Because Quinn and I were, uh … talking.”
“Oh,” Troy said doubtfully. “OK.”
“What do you think?” Beckett asked. “Cup of cocoa, before you go back to bed?”
“Yes, please,” Troy said.
“Quinn,” Beckett asked, “do you think you can find my shirt?”
“Uh … sure.” She did—it was under a pillow, next to her underwear, which she couldn’t exactly put on right now. The whole bed looked like a wrestling venue after the crowd had left, and her fancy black bra was draped jauntily over the lampshade like a decoration, which was pretty hard for Troy notto see. She shrugged off the embarrassment and handed the shirt to Beckett, and he pulled it on.
“Right,” he said. “Cocoa.”
Quinn said, “I’ll make it,” then stopped in her tracks. “Uh … would you rather be alone? Have, uh, family time?” Just because they’d had sex, that didn’t mean she got to horn in on his tender father/son bonding! It wasn’t like they were in some sort of committed relationship. In fact, she had absolutely no ideawhatthey were doing.
Other than, yes, having sex. Trulyamazingsex. The kind she hadn’t realized actually existed outside of books. And he’d been telling the truth. Hehadseemed to enjoy the power struggle. He’d also won it, she was pretty sure.
“What?” Beckett looked confused. “No. Come have cocoa.” Then he grinned at her, a little lopsidedly, and said, “Cocoa seems like the least I can do.” And she felt so much better.
* * *
It wouldn’t have beenhis first choice of how to spend the minutes after his first sex with somebody that … unexpected, but it wasn’t bad. Quinn poured the cocoa into mugs and added a marshmallow to each—his sugar consumption was off the charts tonight—and put some cookies on a plate. They’d finished the snickerdoodles, and she’d baked peanut-butter ones. He wasn’t familiar with that variety, but they turned out to be brilliant, soft and crunchy and salty-sweet, and, of course, with chocolate bits in, because Quinn seemed to be a woman who’d never heard of kilojoules, or maybe just one who’d always burned them off as fast as she consumed them.
What the hell. He sat beside Troy at the round table in Quinn’s snug lounge and took a sip of cocoa. She’d melted some chocolate in there, too, because it was rich.
Troy shivered, and Quinn said, “It would be nicer to start the fire again.” And then, of course, she stood up to do it.
“No,” Beckett said. He stood up himself, got a hand on her shoulder, and shoved her back down. “My job tonight.”
“Arrogant again,” she said. “My house, need I remind you?”
“And still,” he said, “my job.” Anddidn’tsmile at her. It may have been a bit of performance art, but it worked. She got a little dreamy around the eyes, and she shut up.
Troy slewed himself around to watch as Beckett built the fire. “I think fire is very nice,” he said. “Maybe I can learn how to do it when I’m bigger.”
“I’ll show you now,” Beckett said. “Come over here. “
Quinn said, “Beckett. Are you sure—”
“Wait and see how I do it,” he said. “Then tell me, if you still want to.”
She seemed to consider that, because she finally said, “All right. But I reserve the right.”
“No worries,” he said. “I know you do.” Negotiation, he was coming to realize, could be heaps of fun.
Troy was here now, though, so Beckett said, “First thing—you can help me build it. You can’t light it, though, not for a good few years yet. Fire is warm, and it’s nice, but it can be dangerous.”
“Because you could burn down your house,” Troy said.
“Too right,” Beckett said. “You start by smushing up some newspaper, like this. You don’t really have to do that, but it makes it easier to light. Show me how you do it. That’s excellent. Now you build a little tent with tiny bits of wood, and …”
* * *
Quinn was trying notto fall in love. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be working. When Beckett had used the lighter wand, first cautioning Troy gravely one more time, and he was kneeling down with his son, showing him how to blow on the flames, then handing Troy the potholder and saying, “Give that side door a shove, now, and turn the handle, so we keep the fire inside”? When he walked back to the table with his hand on Troy’s shoulder, and they sat down and Troy put his head against Beckett’s side and Beckett put his arm around his boy … well, how could you not?
“Want to tell me what the dream was about, mate?” Beckett asked.
