“I am not,” Quint said, resting his hand on Zena’s head. “I just get the job done.”
Chrissy waved at Trick, who gestured her toward the horseshoe area. “Oh. I’m up. Wish me luck.” She took her water with her.
Quint settled back. “How weird was that for you?”
Heather burst out laughing.
Quint smiled.The woman had a great laugh. “You’re a good sport, Heather Davis.” Yet one more thing to appreciate about the pretty blonde.
“Thanks. Are all of your exes so good-natured with you?” Heather asked, her small hands playing with her wineglass.
He patted the dog’s head and mused. “I think so, actually. I’ve even served as a groomsman in a couple of ex-girlfriend’s weddings.” At her second laugh, he smiled again. “Is that odd?”
“Yeah, but sweet.” She sipped her wine.
The sight of her full bottom lip on the wineglass zipped right to his groin, and he shifted his weight. “That’s me. Sweet.” He’d been called a lot of things in his life, and sweet was not one of them. Even by his mama. “Absent, irritable, dangerous, and selfish are the adjectives tossed at me during arguments while dating. Then we become friends afterward…usually right around the time an ex starts dating either a friend or a relative.” He glanced over at Trick and Chrissy.
Heather patted his thigh, probably not knowing that she’d just killed him because his cock nearly exploded. “I can’t see you being selfish.”
“When the job calls, it calls.” He scratched behind Zena’s ears and the dog grunted in pleasure. It felt right being here with Heather, and he knew better. In fact, since it was early December, he more than likely would be leaving town any day again since there were still fires in California right now. “I don’t control forest fires, but when one springs up, I go. I’ve found that girlfriends don’t like that schedule very much.” Oh, someday he’d stick closer to home, especially if he had kids, but now wasn’t that time. Now was the time to beat fire and win. Or at least tie.
“I see.” Heather rested her chin on her hand and watched a boisterous game of darts played on a snowy tree away from the tables. “I can understand a little bit. When I get into a book, really drawing the pictures, I go into my own head for a while. I’ve been told I need to be more present, but I guess so far, I’d rather be in my book.”
If her current ex was anything to go by, Quint didn’t blame her. “I haven’t read your books yet.”
“They’re for toddlers and grade school kids,” she said, a dimple appearing in her left cheek. “I’d be worried if you had read them.” Her gaze sharpened as Jolene walked on too high heels toward them. Her boots kept sinking into the snow.
Jolene reached them, her professional smile in place. “It is so nice to see you again, Heather. I was hoping you’d reconsidered the story. It’s a good one.”
Heather swallowed. “That’s kind of you, but I’d prefer to stay under the radar as a new person in town. I’m sure there are hikers who are saved all the time by Search and Rescue.”
Quint understood. Apparently her ex had found her, and she no doubt wanted to keep her life private.
“Yes, but they’re not normally invited to the Albertini family barbecue,” Jolene said, her tongue moistening her lips. “If this is a romance, that’d make a fantastic human interest story.” Her gaze slashed to Quint, blatant interest glowing in her eyes.
Heather stiffened. “I don’t have a comment.”
Jolene put a manicured hand on her hip. “Quint? What about you? What about a feature about Zena and you?”
“No.” Quint didn’t elaborate.
Heather shifted in her chair. Was her ankle bothering her again? Quint could find her an aspirin around there somewhere.
Jolene raked his body with her gaze, and he didn’t feel a thing. “Well, just think about it. You have my number, Quint.” She turned and walked across the lawn, somehow making her ass sway even as her heels stuck in the frost covered grass.
Heather tried to bite her lip. “We both have her number.”
Humor rippled through Quint.
“I don’t like when women fight each other or make each other feel badly,” Heather said. “I believe in the sisterhood and in building each other up. We’re not competing with each other, and I really dislike cattiness.”
“And?” Quint asked dryly.
Heather exhaled. “That woman sets me on edge. I wish she didn’t want to write a story about me.”
He nodded. “Same here.”
She managed to keep the question in for a couple of seconds, but he knew it was coming. He could feel it.
