Don’t put that on me, Taran. You know where I stand.
Shit.
Shit shit shit.
I don’t want to disappoint her.
Then we’ll see you tomorrow.
Cheeks flushed with guilt, I quickly texted back,
See you tomorrow.
Drizzle peppered my windscreen as I parked outside Quinn’s house the next morning. The skies above did not look like they were in the mood to oblige a road trip around the island, never mind a trip to the beach or a fishing expedition.
By the time I even made it to Quinn’s front door, my hair was wet from the density of the drizzle. I glanced over my shoulder as I waited for someone to answer the door and shivered at the sight of the ginormous rain cloud sagging off the coast of Glenvulin.
The door opened as I turned back and stood face-to-face with a grim Quinn.
“Hi,” I offered quietly.
He searched my face with that familiar intensity before he stepped back to let me in.
“The weather isn’t looking great,” I murmured, trying not to stare at the wall we’d had frantic, scrumptious, animal sex up against.
“There’s a storm coming in. We’re not going anywhere today.”
“Oh.” I frowned. Why hadn’t he texted me? “Do you want me to leave?”
“Do you want to leave? Because you know it’s easy to just tell someone that.” He cut me a dark look. “Rather than sneak out like you’re ashamed to be there.”
I kept my voice low, not knowing where the kids were. “You know it wasn’t like that.”
“Do I?” Quinn shook his head. “It certainly felt that way.”
I winced. “Quinn?—”
“Taran, you’re here.” Heather appeared in the hallway out of a door on the left.
Forcing a smile, I nodded. “How are you?”
“Annoyed about the storm.” Heather crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing as if she sensed the tension between me and her father. “But we haven’t done a family game day in ages, so we thought we’d spend the day doing that. We’ll have the picnic inside. Sound good?”
“Sure.” I followed her as she gestured me down the hallway. A glance into the room she’d come out of revealed a bedroom. Heather’s bedroom, by the looks of the pink and purple bedding and custom shelves filled with books. Quinn’s daughter guided me into an open-plan kitchen and living room where Angus was already lying on the couch watching what looked like anime on the TV.
He waved but didn’t get up. “Hiya, Taran!”
I still hadn’t quite gotten over how much Angus looked like Quinn at that age. “Hi, sweetheart. How are you?”
“Weather’s crap.” He pouted. “Wanted to fish today.”
“Aye, but we’re going to play board games.” Heather ruffled his hair as she passed on her way to the dining table. “We’re playing Do You Really Know Your Family? first.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Tough shit, you’re going to.”
“Heather,” Quinn warned as he stalked into the room. He flicked me a look. “Tea? Coffee?”
