Crazy For You (31 page)

Nick took a box down from the cupboard and dropped it on the counter. He picked up a blue-checked towel and when Quinn held out her wrists to him, he patted them dry, carefully, and Bill felt his throat catch. It should have been him, not Nick who got to comfort her, not Nick the old friend who couldn’t hold her later. Friends were fine, he was glad she had Nick, but it would have been better if Nick hadn’t been there tonight. If he hadn’t, Quinn would have gone home with him, he would have been the one drying her wrists.

Nick opened the box and took out a roll of gauze and began to wrap it around her wrists, bending his head close to hers to see what he was doing. Too close. If anyone saw them it would look funny, that close, even if it was good old Nick. Nick wrapped her other wrist, taping the gauze in place carefully, and then Quinn said something to him, and he laughed, way too close to her.

Bill frowned. She should be careful. Nick could get the wrong idea.

Nick picked up the gauze again and wrapped it once around her wrist—that made no sense, she was bandaged— and then around her other wrist, wrapping them together, winding the gauze loosely as he laughed into her eyes. Quinn lifted her arms, and Nick bent under them, straightening so her wrists were locked behind his neck and her body fell against his.

The extra gauze unrolled from her wrists to the floor. Bill concentrated on the ribbon of cotton snaking its way down Nick’s back, tried to ignore the way Quinn laughed up at Nick, the way she pushed herself against him, the way Nick’s hands went to her hips—there was a rushing noise in his head—and then Nick kissed her, hard, not a friend’s kiss, a lover’s kiss, they were lovers, Nick was kissing her hard, his hands were on her butt, in the back of her jeans, her hands gripped the collar of Nick’s T-shirt—that was worse, the air left Bill’s lungs—twisting the material as if she wanted to rip it off, and then Nick pulled Quinn toward the stairs, still kissing her, kissing his Quinn, Nick had no right, that damn dog dancing around them—-

It wasn’t until they disappeared, until they’d been gone minutes, maybe hours, Bill couldn’t tell, that he realized all the screaming he’d been doing had been silent, that it was all inside his head.

“Shhhh.” Nick looked back at the closed door. “Do not wake up Joe. I’d just as soon he didn’t come in and pull up a chair.”

He stripped off his jeans and he was beautiful. She whispered, “I’m crazy about your body. Get it over here.”

“Pushy.” He slid under the sheets to hold her, hard against her softness, and she rolled until she was on top of him.

“You’re mine,” she told him.

“Works for me.” He ran his hands up her sides until she caught at his wrists and pulled them over his head.

“You are going to feel me for a week,” she whispered, moving against him.

“Honey, I already feel you every minute of the day.” He lifted his face to kiss her, taking her mouth, licking into her and making her shudder again. “I’ve been thinking about you for so damn long it’s a miracle I get anything done. Every time you turn your back on me, I want to bend you over something, and every time you don’t, I want to take you against a wall, and if you’re not around I close my eyes and imagine you’re naked and I’m inside you.” He kissed her again, making her blood heat with his words and his mouth and his long, lovely body shifting under her.

Quinn was breathless. “This domination thing doesn’t seem to work when I do it,” she grumbled, trying to be cool, but he was hard under her hips and she tensed against him just to feel him thrust back.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Nick kissed her neck, evidently unconcerned that she held his hands. “We get some leather and handcuffs in here, you could do some damage.”

Quinn let go of him. “I can do some damage without leather,” she whispered and began to kiss her way down his chest.

“Oh, Christ,” she heard Nick say as she ran her tongue across his stomach. “You’re right. I’m yours.”

Damn right
, she thought, and took him.

He was sliding his hand up to her breast when Darla knocked and came in without stopping, saying, “Max is waiting, I just came back for my—”

Nick froze. Eight a.m. was not his best time for fast thinking even when he wasn’t naked in a strange bed.

“Nice ass,” Darla said. “Not that I’ll ever see it again.”

“Thank you,” Nick said, and she left, shutting the door behind her.

“What was that?” Quinn said sleepily.

“You owe me for that,” he told her, rolling her over. “Come here.”

“For what?” Quinn said, but she came anyway.

She thought of him shoving her against the brick the night before. There was compassion and there was stupidity. She was going to the police.

Nick came in, dressed in his workshirt and jeans, his hair still damp from his shower, and she remembered the good part. “You are gorgeous,” she said, and he said, “Nope, that’s Max,” and kissed her, reminding her that she was in love on a sunny Saturday morning.

“No, that’s you,” she said. “Definitely you.”

“Well, glad you think so.” He leaned back against the sink with such tense nonchalance that she knew something was wrong. “Because you’re going to be waking up with this face from now on. I’m moving in.”

Quinn sat back. He looked uncertain as he said it, defiant and sort of miserable. “Why?”

He rolled his eyes. “Because you need somebody to take care of you. Hell, what kind of guy would I be—”

“I’m going to the police today,” Quinn said. “My dad is here. You don’t have to stay.”

He stopped, taken aback. “I thought you wanted—”

“I want you to move in,” Quinn said. “But only when you want to for you, not for me. I don’t need any favors.”

“Don’t start this.” He turned to the fridge and got out the milk. “There is no way you’re going to tell me we’re not together after last night.”

“Of course we’re together,” Quinn said. “I love you.” She waited for a minute to see if he’d say it, too, and then went on. “That doesn’t mean you have to live here. You like your space and your privacy. Dad’s here to keep Bill out until the police take care of him. You don’t have to move in.”

He stood there with the milk carton in his hand, frowning at her. “That’s not it. I want to take care of you.”

Quinn tried not to wince at the echo of Bill. “I know. But you don’t have to. You stay at your place where you’re happy and I’ll live here. And we’ll see each other every day just like we always have, only now we’ll be having lots of great sex, too.” She smiled at him. “I’m pretty sure that’s your idea of the perfect life, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said and drank some milk from the carton.

“Well, then, everything’s great,” Quinn said, ignoring the carton.

“Yeah,” Nick said. “Thanks.”

“We talked to Bill before he left for the game at noon,” Frank said. “He seems to think you’re exaggerating things.”

“She has marks on her wrists from him,” Nick said, outraged. “He hurt her.”

“The principal was there and he said Bill had told him that, ah, Quinn, well, likes things rough.” Frank coughed a little. “Bill agreed.”

Nick almost went through the phone he was so mad. “Quinn does not like things rough. That asshole grabbed her in a dark parking lot and terrorized her.”

“How do you know she doesn’t like it rough?” Frank said.

Nick heard the suspicion in his voice too late. “I just know. She’s not that way.”

“Because I’m against guys beating up women, but I’m also against getting caught between two guys being played by a woman. And she hasn’t been in to press charges, either.”

“Oh, hell, Frank—”

“See, the thing is,” Frank said, “I’m the sheriff, not just Joe’s poker buddy. I need evidence. And I need Quinn in here with a complaint before I can get real aggressive about looking for it.”

“She’ll be in,” Nick said, grimly. “And she is not playing anybody. That guy is out of control.”

“So you staying over there to protect her?”

“No,” Nick said.

“Real worried, huh?”

“Frank—”

“Get her in here,” Frank said. “Or forget about it. One or the other.”

Nick slammed down the phone and turned on Max when he came in a few minutes later. “You’re late.”

“Yup,” Max said, obnoxiously cheerful. He started to whistle, and Nick thought about killing him.

“I gather you got your wife back?”

“Oh, yeah,” Max said, and then he got a little less cheerful. “Uh, that reminds me.”

Nick felt suddenly wary. “What?”

“You want to buy a drive-in with me?” Max asked with studied innocence.

“No,” Nick said and headed for the Ford in the last bay.

“Nick,” Max said.

Nick stopped and closed his eyes. “Why would I want to buy a drive-in?”

“Because I told Darla last night I’d already bought it, and I called this morning and the damn thing is a hundred and twenty thousand, and I could use a co-signer.”

Nick turned to him. “You told her you bought the drive-in?”

“Hey,” Max said. “It was the smartest idea I’d had in a long time.” He turned thoughtful. “It worked, too. The sex was great.”

Nick stared at his brother. He wasn’t joking. “You bought an abandoned drive-in so you could have sex with your wife?”

Max shook his head. “This wasn’t just sex. I saw God again. A hundred and twenty thou is a small price to pay.”

Nick snorted. “Yeah, as long as I’m paying half.”

Max scowled at him. “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Nick said. “But only for Darla.” He shook his head and then had to laugh. “A drive-in.”

“Hey, we might make some money off it,” Max said.

“Only if we show
Sorority Sluts in Heat
to minors.”

“I’m not proud,” Max said and picked up the next work order.

Fifteen minutes later, from under the hood of a Chevy, Max said, “Thanks.”

“No sweat,” Nick said.

“Was that Max dropping you off?” Debbie said to Darla when she got to the Upper Cut.

“Yep,” Darla said. “I moved back in last night. He bought me a drive-in.”

“That dump out on the old highway?” Debbie blinked at her. “Why?”

“To get me back,” Darla said. “Isn’t that the most romantic thing you’ve heard of?”

“I’d rather have roses,” Debbie said.

“You dumb
ox,”
Bobby said in his face. “You’re not even
listening
to me. I lie to a cop for you today, and then you do the most piss-poor job of coaching I’ve ever seen in my life.
We’re not even going to the regionals.”

“Leave me alone, Bobby.” Bill got up. “I have things to do.”

“We lost that game on
coaching,”
Bobby spat. “You
fucked it up.
This is
your fault.”

“I don’t care.” Bill flipped off the lights in the weight room and turned for the door. “Hell, it’s just baseball.”

“Just baseball?”
The BP almost lost a lung, he screamed so loud, and Bill laughed at him. What a twit. Quinn had been so right.

“Funny, huh?” Bobby got up close, in his face. “I’ll tell you something funny. I was here last night, checking the stage door because that bitch you’re so obsessed with is incompetent.” He stopped, fuming. “She
threatened
me and she’s
incompetent.”

“She’s not incompetent,” Bill said. “She’s careless sometimes”—
she let Nick touch her
—“but she’s not incompetent.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bobby rounded on him, sneering. “Well, I came back to check the stage door last night, it was unlocked
because she’s incompetent,
and when I came in, I saw
her.
And you know what she was doing?”

“Bobby, I don’t care,” Bill said. “Get out of my face.”

“She was
fucking that mechanic.”
Bill flinched, and Bobby’s voice went low and evil. “Up against the wall, like a whore. Right there on stage. I watched them. While you waited out in the lot like the
dumb ox
you are, that
slut
—”

Bill backhanded him. It was easy, like swatting a fly, and when Bobby didn’t get up, Bill nodded and left.

There was one thing he owed Bobby for, he thought as he packed his clothes into his matched suitcases. If what he said about Quinn was true—which it probably wasn’t, Quinn was a good person, she wouldn’t do that, she was probably just kissing Nick, which was bad enough, and then Bobby with his dirty mind came in, he was glad he’d hit Bobby— well, it was time he moved in. It had worked before, just moving his stuff into her apartment a little at a time, and she hadn’t objected, Quinn wasn’t difficult, so he’d just move his clothes in, and then he could move the furniture later.

Really, he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before.

But when he was on her front porch and he’d unlocked the front door, it still wouldn’t open. The key turned in the lock, but the door wouldn’t budge. And when he went into the side yard, the broken window was fixed, with a piece of wood nailed across it so even if he broke it again, he’d still have to get through the wood.

It was like she was trying to keep him out. He felt his temper rise and calmed himself. It was just a mistake. She wanted him in there. She’d realize that when he moved in.

If he could get in.

He left his suitcases on the front porch and went to the back door, a little worried about trying it with that damn dog around, the dog would bark and bring the neighbor, the dog would scare Quinn, but while he was standing in the backyard, he heard her shower start—her bathroom window was open, if it wasn’t on the second floor he could climb through—and he realized that Quinn at least wouldn’t hear him or the dog as long as she was in the shower. And she took long showers. Sometimes he’d stand in the bathroom just to see her come out of the shower, toweling her hair, so beautiful, so round—

He picked up a piece of broken concrete from near the step—the first thing he was going to do once he was moved in was clean up this yard, it was a disgrace—and smashed the window in the back door. Then he reached through and turned the key in the lock—so careless of her to leave the key in the lock with the window right there—and then when the door still wouldn’t open, reached in and felt around until he found the deadbolt. She was trying to keep him out. Silly thing. He threw the deadbolt and opened the door.

The dog was there, of course. He walked to the front door with the damn thing yapping behind him, and opened it, turning the key, throwing the deadbolt she’d thought would keep him out, and then he turned and grabbed the mutt before it could scoot away, holding it away from him while it shrieked and peed, and then he took it out on the front porch and threw it as hard as he could into the front yard.

It rolled once and lay still.

Good riddance. He picked up his suitcases from the porch and took them upstairs to his bedroom to unpack.