Shelter for Quinn Read online

  Driftwood licked his lips, but didn’t take his hand from the side of Quinn’s neck. “You taste good,” he told her.

  She grinned. “It’s my cherry lip gloss,” she informed him.

  “My new favorite flavor,” he said, loving the blush that bloomed on her unblemished cheek. “Come on, let’s get going. The others are on their way, and I don’t want everyone to beat us there. Gotta get the good seats and all.”

  “There are bad seats at The Sloppy Cow?” Quinn teased.

  He watched as she grabbed her purse then closed her door. She tested the knob, making sure it was locked, then turned to face him.

  “Nope. But it’s a thing with us. None of us like being last. Just go with it.”

  She smiled. “Right. Got it. Lead on then.”

  They chatted about nothing in particular on the way to the bar and Driftwood parked as close to the door as possible. He got around to Quinn’s side of the car as soon as she was up and out and laced his fingers with hers as they walked to the bar. He hadn’t missed how she relaxed every time he touched her. It made him feel good that he could soothe her in such a small way, simply by doing something he loved anyway.

  Driftwood held open the door to the bar for Quinn. She stepped in—and he almost ran into her because she stopped so suddenly.

  “Watch where you’re walking!” a man a few inches taller than Quinn barked at her.

  “S-Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

  “Maybe if you opened your eyes, you would’ve.”

  “Hey, enough,” Driftwood said in a low, harsh voice. “Maybe if you weren’t standing in front of the door, you wouldn’t have people almost running into you.”

  “What are you…the door police?”

  Driftwood would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so pissed at the guy’s attitude. He stood up straight and shifted so Quinn was behind him. He was taller than the asshole in front of him, and he used every one of his extra three inches to try to intimidate him. “I think you should tone down the entitlement,” he told the man. “You should also have your conversation anywhere other than right in front of the door, where you won’t interrupt the flow of traffic or almost get run into. There are several perfectly good tables around here.”

  The man’s face turned almost purple with rage. He had dirty-blond hair that fell over his forehead and a scraggly blond beard with tobacco stains around his mouth. “How about you step outside and put your fists where your mouth is?”

  “Come on, Alaric!” a man called out from the far side of the bar. “Drinks are up!”

  Driftwood didn’t take his eyes from the other man’s. He almost wanted the guy to take a swing at him.

  “Watch yourself,” the man threatened before turning on his heel and heading over to the table where his friend sat.

  “Jeez,” Quinn said after he was out of earshot. “Who pissed in his Cheerios this morning?”

  Driftwood couldn’t help it; he laughed. “Come on,” he said, putting his arm around her waist and tucking her against his side. “Ignore him. Our friends are waiting.”

  He headed in the opposite direction from the asshole, where he saw Sledge, Beth, Crash, Adeline, Chief, and Sophie sitting.

  “What was that about?” Crash asked the second they got close to the table.

  Driftwood ignored his friend for a moment as he got Quinn settled. He made sure to sit on her left side, knowing she wouldn’t be comfortable with anyone else being there.

  “Just some jerk who thinks he has the right to be an asshole,” Driftwood said, then turned to the others. “Hey, Beth. Adeline, Sophie.” He nodded at each of the women. Then gave a chin lift to his buddies. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “Taco should be here any second, and Squirrel is on his way with Blythe. Tiger and Moose should be here later,” Sledge informed him.

  “You want something to drink?” Driftwood asked Quinn.

  “An unsweetened ice tea. With double lemon,” she told him.

  Nodding, Driftwood asked the group at large. “Anyone else?” They all declined and Driftwood leaned into Quinn. His lips brushed against her hair as he said softly into her ear, “I’ll be right back. You okay?”

  She smiled up at him. “Yeah, I think I’ll be okay for the two minutes it’ll take you to get a drink and come back to the table.”

  “Smartass,” he teased.

  As it turned out, it took longer than two minutes. Erin, the part-time bartender who they all knew, and who he hadn’t seen since the weekend before when he’d taken Quinn home, had a million questions for him. She’d not only seen the altercation with the dude at the door, but she’d seen Driftwood holding Quinn’s hand. She was understandably excited about the fact he was finally with Quinn.

  By the time he made it back to the table, Taco had arrived with his date, Jennifer, and Squirrel and Blythe were there too.

  There was also an odd tension that hadn’t been at the table before he’d left. Immediately, his hackles rose.

  He placed Quinn’s ice tea on the table and his own soft drink, and put his hand on her thigh as he sat.

  “Hey, Driftwood. This is Jen,” Taco said, sounding oddly desperate.

  “Hi,” Driftwood greeted as he eyed the woman at his friend’s side. Jennifer was a few inches shorter than Taco. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. She had on a bit too much makeup for his tastes, but Driftwood couldn’t deny that she was pretty.

  “It’s good to meet you. Hudson talks about you all the time,” Jennifer said.

  Driftwood saw Taco wince slightly, knew he hated the name Hudson, but no one corrected her.

  Conversation continued, but Driftwood was more concerned about why Quinn was sitting stiff and uneasy beside him.

  “What happened?” he whispered into her ear.

  “Nothing.”

  “Quinn. What happened?”

  She half turned to him, putting her back to Taco and Jen, and said softly, “It’s not a big deal. When Jen walked up to the table, she stared at me a little too intensely. It was awkward, so Beth said something. It embarrassed Jen, and things were weird for a second. But she apologized, so…all is well.”

  Driftwood clenched his teeth. He knew people stared at Quinn. He’d been around her long enough to witness it himself. Every time, he wanted to get in the person’s face and ask them what their problem was. But he knew how much she hated it when people drew attention to her birthmark. She’d rather pretend she didn’t see the stares or hear the comments.

  But to have it happen while with their inner circle was unacceptable. Driftwood was pissed he hadn’t been there when the encounter happened, but at least Beth and the others had Quinn’s back.

  He tried to relax, picking up his soft drink and taking a sip. It was Quinn who ended up comforting him, rather than the other way around. She put her hand on his thigh and squeezed gently. Driftwood looked at her, and she smiled at him. He immediately trapped her hand against his leg and did his best to pay attention to the conversation going on around him.

  He learned that Jen was taking classes at the local community college to become a nurse. She’d been homeschooled and had taken some time off to work for the family business before deciding to get her nursing degree. As the women talked, Taco had relaxed, and it was obvious how much he wanted her to get along with everyone else.

  It was no secret that the women were close. And Driftwood knew as well as Taco did that if any of their girlfriends didn’t get along, it would strain their own relationships. The firefighters were extremely loyal, and being able to hang out together and not worry about who liked who or who might be fighting was imperative.

  Forcing himself to pay attention, Driftwood did his best to participate in the conversation and get to know the woman Taco was dating.

  An hour later, Quinn was more than ready to leave. She had a headache, and she envied Beth, who’d said she’d had enough and had already left thirty minutes ago. It was exhausting trying to be polite to Jen. It wasn’t that th
e other woman was mean, she was just trying too hard and it was making things increasingly awkward.

  Earlier, Sophie had asked Quinn if she needed to use the restroom, and she’d immediately stood, needing a break from the group dynamic for a moment. But Jen had jumped up and said she could use a visit to the little girls’ room as well.

  With no choice but to go along with it, Quinn followed behind Sophie and Jen. After doing their business, and while they were washing their hands, Jen had turned to her.

  “I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable when I first got to the table. I just haven’t seen anyone with that big of a birthmark on their face before.”

  “It’s okay,” Quinn mumbled.

  “You do know that you’re s-still being rude, right?” Sophie had asked.

  Jen looked shocked. “I am? I don’t mean to be. I was homeschooled and wasn’t around kids a lot growing up, so I think I missed how to pick up all the nuances on that sort of thing. Thank you for pointing out my rudeness. But in all seriousness, and I’m not trying to be rude again, I need to know about these kinds of things, birthmarks and stuff, because I’m sure I’ll see them when I’m a nurse. Are you doing anything about it? You know, to get rid of it?”

  “Get rid of it? That’s not how it works,” Quinn had told her. “You probably should go home and google port-wine birthmarks.” She usually wasn’t this rude herself, but she was tired and not very impressed with the woman.

  “You’re right. I will. In the meantime, if you want, I could show you how to wear makeup. I noticed you aren’t wearing any. It would hide it so you could blend in better.”

  Quinn had clenched her teeth, but Sophie leaped to her defense. “Quinn doesn’t need to wear m-makeup to be beautiful. S-She doesn’t need to cover her face with that crap either. S-Society needs to chill out and embrace differences in others instead of judging them.”

  Silence had greeted her rebuke, and Quinn remembered how Jen had looked like she’d been sucker punched.

  “I was just trying to help,” she’d said.

  “Thanks,” Quinn told her, trying to be a peacemaker. “I might just take you up on that. I never really learned how to put on makeup properly, and I know if I tried with this, I’d just look like a clown.”

  Jen perked back up. “Oh, I’d be happy to show you some things.”

  Quinn gave her a fake smile. They’d left the bathroom and headed back to the table.

  “Anyone want some water?” Jen asked. “I’m going to grab some.”

  “Sure,” Quinn told her.

  “No, I’m good,” Sophie said.

  The second Jen had peeled off to go to the bar for the water, Sophie said, “I can’t believe s-she had the nerve to ask you that. Not after the way s-she s-so rudely s-stared at you.”

  “It’s fine,” Quinn had said, not wanting to talk about it anymore. “She didn’t know any better.”

  “Well, s-she does now.”

  “Yup. Thanks for sticking up for me,” Quinn had told Sophie.

  “Anytime, Quinn. I m-mean that.”

  And now they were sitting back at the table, listening to the guys talk about some of the calls they’d been on.

  “We’re going to head out,” John said suddenly.

  Quinn looked up at him in surprise. He hadn’t given her any indication he wanted to leave already. He hadn’t asked if she was ready to go yet either, which seemed out of character for him. He’d always been very considerate, never making decisions for her, as he was right now.

  But since she was ready to go, she didn’t protest. She stood with him and hugged Sophie, Adeline, and Blythe. She gave Coco some scratches on the head, and said her goodbyes to the guys and Jen.

  “You didn’t finish your water,” Jen said in lieu of a goodbye.

  Thinking it weird that the other woman was that concerned about her water intake, Quinn picked up the glass and chugged the rest of it. “There. Now I’m good.”

  Jen beamed. “Awesome. I hope we get to spend some more time together.”

  “Me too,” Quinn lied, and immediately felt bad. Jen was trying. Too hard, but she was trying. It couldn’t be easy to meet your new boyfriend’s friends like she had. And women were notoriously hard on each other. Way harder to please and more judgmental than men.

  John looped her hand over his arm and headed for the door after telling his friends he’d see them on Tuesday for their next forty-eight-hour shift.

  Sneaking a peek at the man who’d yelled at her when they’d first arrived, she saw that he was still sitting at the same table with his friend. He glared at her, but didn’t get up or make any move to harass her.

  Belatedly ducking her head, Quinn walked alongside John and waved at Erin before he steered them out the door. Without a word, he headed for his truck. He opened her door and waited until she was settled in the seat before closing it and jogging around to the driver’s side.

  He put the key in the ignition, but didn’t turn the truck on.

  “Are you okay?” Quinn asked softly.

  “Yeah. But you aren’t,” he told her, turning to look at her.

  “I’m fine,” she told him.

  “I know we haven’t been together very long, but I know you, Quinn. I’ve been watching you for a while now. I know you have a headache, and I know that you were uncomfortable in there. I can’t say that I like Jen all that much myself, and forcing you to be around anyone when you’re not feeling good isn’t something I want to make a habit of. I have a feeling you want to be home on the couch reading a book, rather than socializing. Am I right?”

  He was. And that really struck Quinn hard. “Just because I’m a homebody doesn’t mean that I can’t take a few hours and hang out with your friends.”

  “They’re our friends—and it does when you aren’t feeling it. As our inner circle grows, I’m fully aware how hard it is on Beth to spend long periods of time with us all. It’s not that she doesn’t like us, it’s just that she gets jumpy and uncomfortable. Sledge knows it, and he never forces her to do anything she doesn’t want to. For her own happiness and health. That’s what I want for you too, Emmy. For us. I want you to be able to feel free to tell me if you’ve had enough socializing. I can pretty much guarantee that I’ll be more than happy to take you home and spend some quality one-on-one time with you.”

  His words made Quinn’s throat close. She’d noticed how Cade watched Beth like a hawk when they were out. She saw the way he constantly monitored her and made sure she was all right. She’d thought it was nice, but knowing John wanted to be that way with her was overwhelming.

  “I do have a headache,” she admitted. She wasn’t going to tell him that Jen was irritating, especially not when Taco seemed so enamored with her.

  “Right. Do you want to go home? It’s still relatively early. I could take you back to my place. I’ve got some Tylenol and maybe you can find a book to read from my shelves? I could make us some dinner while you’re reading.”

  For what seemed like the first time in her life, going home and being alone didn’t seem like the safe haven it always had been in the past. “I’d love to go home with you.”

  John rewarded her with a big smile. He leaned over and palmed the back of her head before kissing her on the forehead. “Close your eyes, Emmy. I’ll have us home in no time.”

  Trusting him, she did just that.

  Driftwood looked at his wrist. It was late. He was fully aware that Quinn had to get up and go to work in the morning. He had Monday off, but she didn’t.

  “Emmy?” he said gently, shaking her a little.

  He’d done just as he’d suggested when they’d arrived home that afternoon. Had gotten her settled on his couch with a blanket, a book, a large glass of ice water, and some Tylenol.

  He left her alone as he puttered around in his kitchen getting a simple meal of stuffed red and green peppers prepared. Every now and then he’d checked on her, getting a smile in return. They hadn’t conversed, but somehow he f
elt more comfortable with her than he had any of the women he’d dated in the past.

  * * *

  Few had been content to just be in his presence. He’d always felt the need to entertain other women in one way or another. Conversation, games, sex…but with Quinn, it was completely different. She was happy to be in her own head space. To be in his space as she relaxed.

  It was as relaxing for him as it apparently was for her.

  By the time the peppers were done, she’d said that her headache was gone and they’d sat at his small dining room table for an hour and a half, talking and laughing together. Long after they’d finished eating, they talked about everything from politics, her view on orcas (that they were truly killers who were just waiting in the oceans to attack and eat people), to his parents. The conversation was easy, as if they’d been friends forever. It felt right.

  She helped him put the dishes into the dishwasher, and then they’d settled onto his couch and started watching last night’s episode of Live PD that he’d recorded.

  Quinn had fallen asleep an hour into the show. She was on her back next to him with her legs draped across his lap. It felt good. Intimate.

  “Hmmm?” she mumbled as he shook her.

  “It’s ten. I need to take you home,” Driftwood said softly. “You’ve got work in the morning.”

  She sighed and, without opening her eyes, said, “I’m too comfortable to move.”

  He smiled. God, how he wished he could merely carry her to his bed. “I know, me too.”

  After a few minutes went by and she didn’t move, Driftwood tried again. “Quinn?”

  “I know. I know. I’m going.”

  He huffed out a laugh when she didn’t move. “How about some incentive?”

  She cracked one eye open. “What kind of incentive?”

  “A kiss?”

  She closed her eye. “Hmmm.”

  He smirked. “Chocolate?”

  She didn’t respond.