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“They were together for a few years. She was pretty upset when it happened—for a couple of weeks. She seemed to bounce back quickly.”
I wanted to ask what kind of a guy he was, whether he was a dirtbag, why they’d ended it, but I didn’t want to wonder about these things, let alone make it obvious to Holden I wondered about these things.
Apparently holding back didn’t work, because Holden asked, “You interested in her as more than a nanny?”
My beer was almost gone, so I resisted repeating that stall. I scanned the dance floor again. I scanned the dance floor and didn’t take long to spot Quincy’s golden hair. The cowboy was nowhere to be seen, but now there was a tall, skinny guy dancing with her, all grins. The punk.
“Don’t you think that age gap would be a bit much?” I finally asked my half-brother.
He shrugged. “I think attraction is attraction. Love is love. She’s legal and then some.”
It sounded good in theory, but this was real life, not theory.
“She’s going to college,” I pointed out. “It’s been so long since I was in college that I barely remember the name of the dorm I lived in and only recall a handful of my professors’ names.”
“Should I buy you a cane for Christmas this year, old man?”
“I trust we’re close enough now I can tell you to fuck off?” I said, laughing.
“Sounds like typical brotherly love to me.”
Our conversation moved away from Quincy on to more comfortable topics like beer and business and fatherhood. Holden’s excitement about pending fatherhood was tangible. It made me wonder how I would’ve felt to be in that position, with a woman I loved and eight or nine months to get used to the idea before the baby arrived.
During the next two hours, I met more people than I’d ever remember and counted no less than six male dance partners for my nanny. I was doing my damnedest not to let it bother me, but…
Fuck. It bothered me. It bothered me a lot.
It particularly bothered me a lot when the original cowboy took a seat at Quincy’s table, where she’d been sitting alone for about two minutes. It was as if he’d been watching her, waiting for an opportunity, after dancing with her at least two more times after that first one.
I’d switched to soda after one beer, recognizing fast I needed every ounce of good judgment and willpower intact if I was going to sit here and watch my daughter’s nanny flirt and touch guys who didn’t deserve her.
Not that I did.
Holden returned from the restroom as I settled my stare on the guy in the fake Stetson across the way. The smile Quincy gave him was strained, not genuine at all, as if she didn’t care to have his company. I straightened so I could see them better.
“It’s getting late for this married guy,” Holden said as he flagged down Donovan to clear his tab. “I’m going to head home to Chlo. Are you ready yet?”
“I’ll stay a few minutes and finish this drink,” I told him, my gaze barely leaving the big, ugly cowboy hat. “I won’t be far behind you.”
Donovan slid him a bill. Holden set some cash on it and handed it back.
“Need anything?” Donovan asked me.
I shook my head.
“You’re good?” Holden asked.
“I’m good. Go home to your wife. Thanks for convincing me to come out tonight,” I said. “It was great to talk more.”
“Agree. Take care. Don’t do anything too crazy.” He glanced toward Quincy, then raised his brows at me suggestively before heading out.
“See you,” I said, ignoring the look. I wasn’t going to do anything crazy, joke or not.
As he walked off, I leaned on the bar and cradled my drink between my palms. My gaze went back to Quincy just as she said something to the cowboy. It looked clear as day to me that she said, “No, thanks,” and her smile was nowhere in sight, so I went on alert.
When Quincy very clearly said no again and shook her head at the guy, I stood, trying to decipher what he was asking her for. I waited for the tension in her expression to lighten up and her to flash that smile I couldn’t get enough of.
Quincy cast a look at the dance floor, leaning one way, then the other, and I wondered if she was searching for her friends.
