Her jaw clenched, as if she were forcing herself to stay quiet. I leaned down, desperate for whatever it was she wanted or needed to say. My thumb skimmed her bottom lip, coaxing.
“You can tell me anything, Quinn,” I breathed. “I will always listen to you.”
Quinn’s breath caught. Our gazes held and something shifted in the air. The cold wrapped around us suddenly became heated. We leaned closer, as if being pulled in by some magnetic force. She lifted her chin until our mouths were almost touching…
And then the front door opened. We broke apart, the moment shattering as a man stood there, glowering at us.
Quinn gasped, blinking at him. “Preston?”
18
Quinn
PrestonHollowaystoodinthe doorway of the Ramsey’s bed-and-breakfast like he belonged there. His gaze shifted between Graham and me, his brow creasing.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said tersely, eyes locking on mine.
I gaped at him. He was waiting for me?
In a panic, I mentally scanned my schedule, wondering if I’d missed some meeting we had discussed but…it was Saturday. Since when did we have meetings on Saturday afternoons?
“Why are you here?” I tried not to sound as stunned as I felt.
Preston drew up to his full height, pushing his shoulders back and lifting his chin. “I came to visit you. Didn’t you get my email?”
Visit me? Slowly, I shook my head. I had not gotten any email from him about a visit. I slipped my phone from my pocket. I hadn’t paid much attention to it because I didn’t have great reception near the OCU campus.
I tapped on my email and grimaced at the newest message that hadn’t loaded until now. “Oh.” I glanced back up at him. “I must’ve missed it. What did you need?”
Preston’s gaze cut to Graham. “Could we speak somewhere more private?”
“Of course,” I said automatically. “We can talk in my room.”
Preston took a step back into the house, but I hesitated. Graham’s face was mostly placid, arranged into that carefully constructed mask I was beginning to recognize. But his eyes were a blazing blue as he stared at Preston.
Graham had to know who Preston was; he’d seen him in court the day we met. I had no idea why he was staring at him like that.
“What’s wrong?” Preston’s voice jerked me out of my pondering over Graham.
I waved a dismissive hand as I hastily stepped inside. “Nothing.”
I didn’t look back to see whether Graham followed me into his parents’ house. The smell of savory meat and baking bread wafted through the foyer from the kitchen. I faintly heard Raleigh speaking with Warner as she was making dinner.
“Follow me,” I mumbled, keeping my head down, hoping Preston wouldn’t think it appropriate to stay for food. Knowing Raleigh, she had already invited him to her table that night.
I raced up the staircase, Preston trailing behind me. My brain scrambled to make sense of his sudden arrival. I’d had meager contact with him since he’d dumped me here. I’d sent him regular emails updating him on my work, notes on discovery, and different angles we could frame the evidence or other possible witnesses.
I’d barely gotten any responses.
My heart had lodged in my throat by the time I unlocked the door to my room and I invited him inside.
“What’s going on?” I hissed, the moment the door closed.
Preston sauntered a few paces into my bedroom, looking idly around the space. His gaze lingered on the furniture I’d shoved in front of the windows. I forced myself not to feel embarrassed about it in front of him.
Placing his hands casually on his narrow hips, Preston turned back toward me. He studied me, taking in the old Cardinals’ jersey and the signed cap clutched in my grip.
“Have fun at the game?” He arched a brow.
