“Nothing?”
“No. Nothing. Ever. What kind of weird things you’re into is your business, not mine.”
We reach the grocery store, and I kill the engine.
“Weird things? What makes you think I’m into weird things?”
She shrugs. “A girl hears things.”
“Lies, Quinn. All lies,” I say, and she gives me a look that says she doesn’t believe me.
We make our way into the store, grab all the supplies Quinn thinks we need and go back to the car. I drive home, pull into the garage, and Daisy is fast asleep by the time I remove her from her car seat. I’m hoping she doesn’t wake up and see me holding her. She’s been frightened enough for one day. Once again, anger coils through me. How could Shari just leave her daughter like this?
“Fuck,” I say under my breath, then remember I’m not supposed to swear in front of the infant. We get inside, and I set her on the sofa, surrounding her with pillows.
“You are a fast learner,” Quinn says as she watches me carefully.
“Told you.”
“And here I thought you were just a pretty face,” she quips.
I step into her, despite knowing better, but I suddenly want to tease her, want to make her blush, because goddammit, there is nothing sexier than Quinn with pink cheeks. I’ve known it for years. “You think I have a pretty face?”
“No, of course not,” she shoots back quickly, her chest rising and falling a bit quicker.
Would you look at that. Little Quinn Reed is flustered. Maybe she’s doesn’t hate me as much as I think she does. “It’s just a saying.”
At the risk of losing a testicle, I touch her hair, run it though my fingers. “Too many scars?” I ask.
“No, I’m not shallow,” she says, and she reaches out and touches my cheek. “How did you get this one though? Another hockey puck to the face?”
She traces the soft tip of a finger down my cheek, near my ear, and my pulse jumps in my throat. “Fight. High school.”
Her eyes widen. “I hate to see what the other guy looks like.” She quivers a bit, and pulls her hand back. Under her breath, she says, “I hate violence.”
“He sucker punched your brother. It wasn’t a fair fight, so he had a broken nose coming to him.”
“Oh, I had no idea.”
“I protect those I care about, Quinn.”
She opens her mouth to say something but from the sofa, Daisy makes a noise, and it pulls me back. Okay, get your shit together, dude. Hitting on the one girl who can help you out in this messy situation—the one girl you can’t put a finger on—is a dick-ass move, on so many levels.
“Hungry?” I ask.
“Starving,” she says quickly, clearly appreciating the change in topic.
“It’s going to be a while before Daisy’s things and our groceries get delivered. Order in?”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
“Italian?” I ask, remembering how much she likes the lasagna from Luigi’s.
“Sure.” She tugs at her short strands of blonde hair and frowns.
“What?”
“I rushed over here so fast this morning, I didn’t have time for a shower. Mind if I use yours.”