Quinton
Quinton had a hard time eating his dessert. Ginny sat across from him in the booth, her blouse open at the neck and her sleeves rolled up. She’d pulled her hair out of a severe ponytail when she walked through the door. Time stood still as she shook out her beautiful locks and ran her fingers through it several times, drawing the very breath from his lungs.
Even now, as they lingered over salted caramel tarts and raspberries, he couldn’t believe how the years had added to her beauty. She’d captured his whole attention and the tart couldn’t drag him away.
“You wouldn’t believe the mess I’m walking into with the company.” She folded her arms across her middle. “I miss holding babies. They’re so uncomplicated. They cry, and you feed them, hold them, change them, love them. You can be the answer to all their problems in life, and when they smile at you—it’s magic.” She blushed, glancing at him from lowered lashes. “That probably sounds silly coming from me.”
“Not at all.” He wanted to hold her hand, to comfort her with a touch. But as herfriend, there were boundaries. “I can see you with a baby.”
Her eyes lifted. “Yeah?”
“You’re stunning.”
“You’re too good to me, Quinn.” Her arms relaxed and she rested one hand on the table, within touching distance but not quite close enough that she was making a move on him. Boundaries. She was much better at sticking to them than he was. Or perhaps she didn’t struggle with them. Perhaps they were right where she wanted them to be.
He shifted in his seat. He’d like to be good to her in other ways, like to spoil her, give her neck massages, and kiss her worries away. “You helped me through a rough time with my family. I can’t be good enough to you.”
“Stop.”
“No, really. My dad, he—” Quinn wiped his mouth with a napkin and gathered his thoughts. “He took me and Ben to court, trying to break Grandpa’s will. When that didn’t work, he disowned us, right there in the courtroom.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.” He took her hand, noting the electricity crackling through his skin but doing his best to remember that the sensations were one-sided. “Your dad believed in you, Ginny. He saw so much potential that he couldn’t deny it. That’s to his credit.”
A small line appeared between her brows. “Did you just call me Ginny?”
Shoot. He’d only ever done that when he was talking to Ben. “Sorry.” He pulled his hand away, feeling like he was unplugging.
“Don’t be. I—I mean, I started going by Ginny about six years ago. I was just surprised to hear it from someone in the States.”
“Really?” Strange that she began going by the nickname at about the same time he started calling her that in his thoughts. “It must be a sign that we’re cosmically linked.”
She laid her hand on top of his. “We must be. The best friends in the universe.”
He managed a weak smile. “Well, your dad isn’t the only one who believes in you.”
She squeezed his hand and let go, once again leaving him cold in her wake. “Well, that makes it a little easier to face up to the promise I made him. I can still hear his voice.Lockwoods don’t break their promises.”
His body went rigid. She could be sending him another coded message, this one saying that she wanted to get married. He just wasn’t sure what to do about it. They’d caught up on her travels, on his adventures as an uncle and developments in the world of roller coasters. Even the horribleness that was his relationship with his dad. Not once had she mentioned the night she’d left, nor her pact.
Maybe she’d forgotten. He decided not to push his luck. Ginny was in his life, and that would have to be enough until she was ready.
“We Wilabys, my father excluded, are the same. It’s part of our family crest,” he joked to soften the mood.
“You have a crest?”
“Heck yeah, don’t you?”
She smirked. “It must be a billionaire thing.”
He winked. Her thick lashes brushed her cheeks, and he wondered if he had an effect on her or had made her uncomfortable. He’d been able to read so many of her expressions and even her moods in the past, but this was something new. She hadn’t looked at him in quite that way before. Hadn’t played coy. Except, he didn’t think she was playing. Ginny had never been the type to flirt for the sake of flirting—she was too transparent in that area. Put her in a debate over tariffs and she could bluff her way through, but tell her to flirt with someone at a party and she’d end up spilling a drink on herself or trailing food down her shirt.
She rubbed her lips together and shifted in her seat. Her eyes lifted, full of curiosity and daring. Beautiful and luminescent. “Does that mean you’ll keep your promise to me?” she asked in an even voice.
Quinn didn’t have to ask what promise. He knew by the hitch in her breath that she was thinking of that night. His tongue enlarged so that speaking was impossible. He swallowed water and an ice cube to try to get the swelling down enough to speak. It sort of worked. He weighed his words carefully, not wanting to appear like the eager suitor he was inside. “Which promise was that?” A guy couldn’t be too careful. If he’d jumped in with ayesand hauled her off to the courthouse and she’d meant it was his turn to pay the check, he’d look like a fool.
“To marry me.” She reached over and shoved his arm, which felt like a block of wood attached to his body. “Before I turn into a bitter old spinster.”
