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Not looking at her, I waved her off. “You heard her.”
Another gasp, but she retreated.
Quinn sat back with a huff. “She better not open any drinks unless she’s in front of me. I don’t like tasting someone else’s spit.”
I turned to her with a raised brow, and she let out an embarrassed squeal. “That’s not how I meant it. Some people’s spit is fine. I mean, if it doesn’t come in a drink. But when they’re doing other things. Oh my God, shut up, Quinn.”
The corner of my mouth lifted into a half smile. I couldn’t say I didn’t enjoy watching her flustered. She was always herself, never pretending or putting on a show. And in my world, that was rare to find.
“Your scotch, Mr. Olysses.” Melanie held out my glass, and I took it with a nod.
When she tried handing a glass of water to Quinn, she was met with crossed arms. “Can I please get a sealed water bottle instead?”
Another huff, but Melanie did as requested. I sent an email to my assistant to find a new flight attendant. Even if I didn’t feel such a strong urge to protect Quinn, I’d never tolerate insubordination or attitude in my employees.
Quinn pulled out her screen from the armrest and put on a movie. A few minutes later, she let out a tiny snore and her head slumped to the side, landing on my shoulder. I ached to put my arms around her, make her more comfortable. I didn’t have enough control left to push her away, but I’d allow myself this small contact.
She slept all the way until we touched down, the movement of the plane causing her head to slide down into my lap.
We both froze for a few seconds before she shot up, nearly headbutting me in the process. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to land in your lap. Or to fall asleep.”
Fighting myself to not reach out and smooth the crease between her brows, I took a sip of my drink. “I didn’t mind.”
She shot me a look that I couldn’t decipher. Before she had a chance to respond, the plane came to a stop, and we disembarked.
As soon as we were in the limo, I called Gabriel, who picked up after the first ring had barely finished. “You back?”
He sounded anxious, and I was worried that Dad’s condition had deteriorated. “We are. Is everything ready?”
“Of course.”
My chest was suddenly tight, but I had to know. “How’s Dad?”
“Out of surgery. The doctor said his chances are good. You coming back here?”
I visibly slumped in relief, overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions that hit me at the thought of anything happening to Dad. The light touch of Quinn’s hand holding mine grounded me.
“I’ll drop Quinn off, and then I’ll be there.”
We hung up, and I lowered my phone to my lap, taking a deep inhale. Quinn’s hand in mine felt right. And I didn’t want to let go.
I’m in so much trouble.
“Is everything all right with your dad?” Her voice was low, but she didn’t have to speak up for me to hear her, since she was sitting so close.
“Someone shot him, and he’s in the hospital. His prognosis is good.”
My tone sounded robotic, but if I thought about what could have happened, I’d go into a murderous rage.
Quinn gasped. Her hand touched my cheek, and then she pulled me in to her. I closed my eyes at the wave of quiet that enveloped me at the contact. It was an awkward twist, since we were both sitting down, but I wouldn’t have traded this moment for anything.
Releasing the pent-up breath I seemed to have been holding since Dad was shot, I sank farther into her, our cheeks touching. One of her hands was still holding mine; the other was wrapped around my neck, her fingers lightly caressing my exposed skin.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered into my hair.
Words that would have sounded like a platitude if anyone else had said them burrowed deep inside me. Her voice was full of emotion and sincerity. But I didn’t think Quinn could ever be anything less than sincere.
When I pulled away, I couldn’t help but kiss her forehead, my lips lingering. My body screamed at me to lean back in, to feel her against me.
