Mick drove her home and then, feeling restless, he took to the streets again. He ended up at the bluffs with Coop and was watching the waves by moonlight when a figure came close and sat next to him.

Quinn.

Chapter 29

I hate the feeling when you’re sad and you have no idea why but you just are.

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

Quinn had been quietly walking the bluffs, taking in the night and trying to clear her head when she’d seen Mick and Coop arrive.

Coop bounded over to her, all floppy ears, excited drool, and wide smile.

His owner was more subdued, but there was a light in his eyes that said he was just as excited to see her as Coop, and something went a little squishy in her chest.

Coop climbed into her arms and sat himself on her lap like he’d been born there, and just panted happily.

Mick shook his head at his dog. “What are you doing here?”

“I come here sometimes,” she said. “When I need to think. It was my first stop in Wildstone, if you’ll remember.”

“I remember.”

She smiled. Her panic attack at being here seemed so long ago now. “It’s my spot.”

“We have the same spot.” He looked at her. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Giving you time to think,” he said.

Her heart melted and she leaned into him, setting her head on his shoulder. “I missed you,” she said softly, and felt his arm come around her.

“Missed you too,” he said in a voice that told her he meant it.

She was quiet for a moment, and so was he. Then she said, “According to the gossip mill, you’re moving home to Wildstone and you’re still buying up properties.”

He snorted. “Don’t believe everything you hear. In fact, don’t believe anything you hear.”

“But you did buy some properties when they were in trouble.”

“Because they were a good, solid investment,” he said.

Her smile was wry. “In Wildstone? I think we both know that’s not necessarily true. Maybe you were meant to come back here.” She paused. “And stay.”

“I bought these properties because I hate how the town is being managed and I don’t want to see good people go down. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to be a local—something you of all people should understand. You’re staying here for now but you’re temporary too.”

True. “It’s hard to make any kind of personal decision because I’m making it for two.”

“Is it?” he asked. “Or is the hard part following your heart when you no longer trust it?”

Her gaze flew to his as she felt the words echo deep in her heart.

“Quinn,” he said with such terrifying gentleness that her throat burned. “You’ve gone a long time without letting your heart rule.”

“Two years,” she whispered back.

“You’re fighting your own nature.”

“Which is what?” she asked, and she wasn’t kidding. She really wanted to know.

He nudged Coop out of her lap.

Coop snorted his displeasure but turned in a circle and plopped at their feet.

Mick moved in, holding Quinn’s gaze. “To feel,” he said quietly. “You’re fighting your own nature to feel.”

Oh, God. That was true too. She’d held back her emotions and she’d gotten good at it, but ever since coming to Wildstone, it had been nothing but a flood of feels.

“You’ve also held back your own nature to love,” he said.

She stared at him, her heart pounding. “How do you know?”

“Because I know you. Or I’m starting to. I’ve seen you with Greta and Trinee, and the café you thought you didn’t want. I’ve seen you with Tilly, and no matter what she throws at you, trying desperately to prove she doesn’t need you or anyone, you keep your patience.”

“She’s my sister,” Quinn said. “And the café is, was, Carolyn’s.” She hesitated. “My mom’s.”

“And Lena?” he asked. “You’ve gathered her in too, like one of your chickens. What’s your excuse for caring about her?”

Dammit.

He laughed softly. “Let yourself go, Quinn. Let it happen. It’s okay to love this place and everyone in it.”

And you, she wondered. Is it okay to let myself love you as well? But she knew the answer to that. It wasn’t okay. But looking into his eyes, seeing the easy attraction, she told herself it was okay to stay in the moment and enjoy this for as long as she could.

To that end, she stood and kicked off her shoes as her fingers went to the button on her jeans.

Coop lifted his big head and gave one excited bark. His humans were on the move!

Mick raised a brow at Quinn.

“It’s hot,” she said. “And my brain’s tired of thinking. I’m going for a swim.” She wriggled out of her jeans while he watched, eyes hot now.

“This swim,” he said. “Is it a solo swim?”

“Only if you’re slow.” She pulled off her top and turned to the water, but before she’d taken a single step, she was lifted into the air and thrown over Mick’s shoulder.

“It’s not me who’s slow,” he said and dove into the water with her.

THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY morning, Quinn stood in Carolyn’s kitchen wearing nothing but Mick’s T-shirt, undies, and some whisker burns. Tilly had spent the night at Katie’s, and Quinn had had a sleepover of her own.

Later, after Tilly came home, she was going to have the let’s-move-to-L.A.-and-make-this-real conversation.

She was nervous as hell about that.

But it was time. Past time . . .

The hens were very busy clucking and muttering among themselves. Such a simple life, she thought, and yet . . . it felt right. She’d been fighting that for a while, but she couldn’t deny the truth.

She was happy here. She would definitely miss being here, including the sexy, six-foot, naked guy she’d left in her bed.

The knock on the front door surprised her and she looked down at herself. Definitely needed more clothes on before answering. Dodging out of the kitchen, she stopped short in the living room, staring in shock out the window that ran alongside the front door.

It was Brock.

Before she could think it through, she pulled the door open. “What are you—”

He hauled her into him and kissed her.

She was so shocked she froze in place as his arms tightened on her so that they were pressed up against each other in a familiar way that once upon a time had both comforted her and turned her on.

It did neither now.

She took a big step back and shook her head at him, and then realized that Mick had come into the living room.

When she’d left him flat on his back, spread-eagled on her bed, he’d been sated, boneless, and practically purring. He’d certainly been relaxed.

He wasn’t relaxed now. In nothing but unbuttoned jeans, he stood there with a carefully blank look on his face, tension radiating from him.

Not sure how much he’d seen, Quinn decided to deal with one problem at a time and turned on Brock. “What are you doing here?”