“Because I’ve got additional plans for you,” he said, amused to see her bite her lower lip in anticipation even as she blushed.

He was driving his dad’s truck today and he was glad for that as he headed out to the one furniture store in the area that he knew of. He hadn’t been by for years and hoped it was still there.

He got lucky. And it turned out the guy who now owned the place, Tyler Coronado, had dated Mick’s sister way back when. Mick picked out a full-size mattress with a pretty wood frame for a screaming deal. “Good prices,” he said.

Tyler sighed. “Going-out-of-business prices. I’m selling the property. I’ve slashed everything so I don’t have to find storage.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Mick said.

“Wildstone’s circling the drain, man. Not many of the small business owners think they can hold out for much longer.”

“What’s being done?” Mick asked.

“Nothing,” Tyler said with disgust. “Seems certain officials keep getting richer, while the rest of us get poorer. Not that any of us can afford the legal battle.”

When Mick left, he sat in the parking lot and sent off an e-mail to Colin, asking him to look into which specific business properties in town were in the most immediate danger of going under. He couldn’t easily step in, as he was stretched thin now, but neither did he want to stand by and watch someone sink.

Half an hour later he and Coop were back at the house standing at the front door and staring down at Quinn’s newest guard cat.

“Mew,” the cat said, sitting smack in the center of the doorway, making no move to let Mick or Coop get by her.

Coop, normally a lover of people and all other creatures, whined, his ears down in a submissive pose.

Tink stared up at him from her one good eye, clearly in charge here.

“What do you think, buddy?” he asked Coop.

Coop—ears still low—slowly lay down, never taking his eyes off the cat.

Mick laughed softly. “She’s harmless, bud. Look.” He crouched down low and held out his hand.

The cat sniffed at it. Seemed to accept him. So he tried to pet her and . . . she sank her teeth into him.

“Jesus.” He snatched his hand back.

Coop gave him a look like and here I thought you were the smart one.

Quinn came up behind the cat, wearing a white sundress, no shoes, no makeup, hair down and wild, and a soft smile. “My boys are back.”

Coop perked right up.

So did Mick.

He rose to his feet, his eyes on hers. Leaning in past his silly dog and the Gestapo cat, he kissed her. Soft at first, and then when she made a soft little sound of acquiescence, he deepened their connection, feeling the stress of the day float away, feeling everything float away but the taste of her.

Smiling, she pulled back. “Thanks for the bed. Come on in.”

Both man and dog looked down at the cat.

“It’s okay, Tink,” she said. “They’re with me.”

The cat didn’t budge or take her eyes off them, and both man and dog hesitated.

“Come here, pretty girl,” Quinn said and scooped up the cat. And just like that, the fierce-looking cat went boneless and set her head on Quinn’s shoulder.

“Aw, isn’t she sweet?” Quinn asked and turned away to lead them into the house as over her shoulder, Tink sent them both the evil eye.

“Sweet,” Mick repeated and exchanged a wary glance with Coop as they followed.

Chapter 26

I miss when I was little and I didn’t worry about grades, clothes, my weight, if someone liked me, or if my mom was going to up and die on me.

—from “The Mixed-Up Files of Tilly Adams’s Journal”

It took negotiation and strategy to maneuver and then wrestle the new bed down the narrow hallway and into the tiny craft room. By the time they got the bed set up, Quinn felt like she’d just gone to the gym. “Not sure how I can thank you,” she said.

He just smiled. “I’ve got a few ideas.” He pulled her into him. “You’re all sweaty.” His voice made “sweaty” sound like the sexiest condition on earth.

She was breathless again. Still. He had her all worked up. “And you’re all . . . hard.”

“Watching you swear while working your ass off to get the bed in here turned me on.”

Pleased laughter bubbled up in her chest. “Everything turns you on.”

“Actually, it’s you. You turn me on.” And then he tumbled her to the mattress, tucking her beneath him, pressing her into the bed as he made himself at home between her legs.

And quite possibly in her heart.

FOR HER AP classes, Tilly was bussed with other kids from her high school to the city college and back. As she got off the bus at the end of her day, she looked around for Dylan.

Sometimes he came out to meet her off the bus and he’d walk her home. Sometimes they stopped for snacks at the convenience store first and went to the tree house.

Those were her favorite afternoons.

But he’d been busy lately. Too busy for her. Working, she knew, not messing around, but she missed him.

She missed a lot of things . . .

Because she was pouting and concentrating on her pity party for one, she didn’t pay attention and got caught by her home ec teacher, wanting to talk to her about her grades.

“I know you’ve had a hard time, Tilly,” Mrs. Bazio said. “And I’m prepared to give you some leniency because of that, but if you’re not careful you’re going to fail home ec and I know you don’t want that.”

Really? ’Cause maybe she did totally want that . . .

“If I offer you extra credit, are you going to try?” Mrs. Bazio asked.

She said yes. Actually, her mouth had said yes. Her brain, numb, hadn’t given a shit.

She turned and looked around for Quinn’s car. She didn’t have to look hard, the pretty Lexus stuck out like a sore thumb.

Quinn had parked facing away from the school under an oak tree, probably for the shade from the setting sun. But the joke was on Quinn because there was a reason no one parked there. The tree dropped acorns, which were sticky and a bitch to get off vehicles. The windows were down, all four of them, and at first Tilly thought her sister had her radio turned up, but realized she was just on the phone via her Bluetooth.

“My London trip’s been postponed,” a guy said, “and my sister’s birthday party is this weekend. She was hoping for some of your spicy-chicken lettuce wraps, which you love to make almost as much as you love to come to my family’s parties.”

“I do love to make spicy-chicken lettuce wraps,” Quinn said with a smile in her voice. She was both on her phone and thumbing through it at the same time. “And I also love to visit your family parties.”

“You know we consider you one of us,” he said fondly. “Although I’m pretty sure they’re still hoping you show up with a diamond on your finger.”

Quinn made a sound of regret. “Brock—”

“Look, I’m not trying to start a fight. I’m just letting you know, reminding you, that they love you.”

“I know,” Quinn said, suddenly sounding sad. “And it means a lot to me that they love me like their own, given that at the moment I’m feeling like I belong nowhere and to no one.”