THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON Dylan and Quinn were back at the park doing clean up.
"Why do you keep doing that?" Dylan asked.
"Doing what?"
"Watching me like a buzzard waiting for prey to die so it can pick the bones."
Dylan wasn't used to people being nice to her unless they wanted something. She doubted Quinn was any different. "What's wrong with you?"
Quinn stared at her, hesitated, then asked nervously, "Why do you ask that?"
Dylan studied her closely. She wasn't sure what she saw in those expressive brown eyes.
Maybe it was her imagination, but she could've sworn the question made Quinn uncomfortable.
"How's your leg today?" Quinn asked.
The change of subject was a welcome relief. Something about the atmosphere between them had felt suffocating. "It's, uh, fine."
"I'm glad to hear that," Quinn said. "And to answer your earlier question, I'm not watching you, I'm simply observing you."
"Well, could you stop? It makes me uncomfortable."
Quinn nodded. "A couple of us are going to grab something to eat later, would you like to join us?"
"No."
She resumed her duties, creating physical distance from the rest of the group as she cleaned up the debris in the park, lest it seem as if she was interested in making friends. An hour later, she took a break and swallowed a couple of painkillers, wishing she could have a smoke instead. She didn't know if she was being paranoid, but her throat felt itchy and her hands were sweaty.
To distract herself, she studied Quinn, who was happily carrying out her duties while she interacted with the others. Dylan noticed that almost every other person doing community service knew Quinn. Even the supervisor, who was cold and disinterested for the most part, was warm and nice to her.
The males appeared smitten with her, and Dylan didn't blame them. Quinn emanated a warm glow. Wherever she was, a bubble of laughter and ease enclosed those around her. That ease and familiarity made Dylan uncomfortable.
She thought about how she'd been entranced the previous evening, lost in the sea of Quinn's eyes. She'd evoked such strange sensations in Dylan, it still felt unreal. The moment had been so unexpected, she wanted to deny its existence. She wondered whether that was how the men following Quinn around like love-struck puppies were feeling. It looked as if it was something she was used to handling because they continued being pleasant even after she rejected their advances.
What was it about Quinn that drew people to her? Dylan wondered. Not that she was drawn to Quinn. On the contrary, she wanted to stay as far away as the park boundaries would allow. Refusing to pursue that train of thought, she turned her focus back to her work.
When her hours were completed, she went to wait for Jake at her usual spot. He'd said he'd come to get her early because they had plans for dinner. She'd waited about ten minutes when she saw Quinn heading to her tiny car.
Jake's Lexus slowed and came to a stop. Dylan walked over to him as he got out. He gave her a light kiss and affectionately wrapped his arms around her for a hug. After, he took her crutch, tucked his arm around her waist, and helped her into the passenger seat of his car.
"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."
"You've been later, so I guess you did fairly well today," Dylan said. As Jake drove away, she saw Quinn waving goodbye.
"I see you're making friends."
Jake was a great-looking guy, with dark wavy hair, soft blue eyes, and masculine facial features which had a touch of boyishness in them. He worked as a computer engineer for a successful information, communication, and technology firm. He had no girlfriend because his female companions typically ended up feeling threatened by his close relationship with Dylan.
She ignored his comment. "Where are we going for dinner?" She could feel his eyes flit over her.
"How bad is the craving?"
Dylan shook her head. "You have no idea."
Day four without a cigarette and she was going crazy. On the upside, she'd never lasted that long before.
"Have you threatened to fire Moses yet?"
She laughed at the thought of her previous nicotine withdrawal fueled outbursts. "Not yet, but he said he's ready for anything I might throw at him."
"Poor guy."
"He knows I don't mean it when I threaten him," she said. "He's like a father to me." "Yeah, well, he's used to you anyway."
She and Jake grew up together a couple of houses apart and went to the same school. Jake and his two sisters were raised by a single mother. Growing up around women was probably the reason he was such a playboy, but Dylan thought it was also why he was so warm and tenderhearted.
She'd been closer to Jake than his two other siblings, and, in time, she'd come to discover it was because she felt she could relate to him more than she did to his sisters.
"We're going to Chi-Chi's for dinner. I made reservations," he said.
"Great, I love that place."
In half an hour, they were seated and waiting for their meals.
"So tell me, who was that girl who waved at you earlier?" Jake asked.
"Nobody."
"Nobody, huh?"
"Her name is Quinn. She gave me a ride home yesterday."
"That was nice."
"She's weird."
"Why do you say that?"
"She's unbearably annoying, and she's a kiss-ass."
"One, you don't like people, so you'll see anyone who shows any interest in you as annoying, and two, maybe she's just sweet, which you're mistaking for her being a kiss-ass."
"Well, what I lack in my social skills, I make up for in my temperament." Jake laughed at the sarcasm.
"I still can't believe she stole a dog."
"I can't believe she tolerated your nasty mood," Jake countered with a teasing smile.
Dylan could hardly believe that either.
"I think she likes you. Why else would she put up with you?"
"Gee, thanks," she muttered.
Their food was served, and as they ate, they caught up on the few days they hadn't seen each other. Jake filled her in on what was happening at work. His love life was nonexistent since he'd been overworking.
"If you're not careful, you're going to start graying soon," she teased. "You need to stop for a minute and enjoy life."
"This coming from a woman who has no love life to speak of?"
"At least I meet people."
"At least I have sex."
She smiled. "Touché."
"Maybe you'd have an easier time quitting cigarettes if you were getting laid."
She wasn't interested in having sex with random women. She was content with the way things were, but she enjoyed his banter. "Leave me alone."
It was easy for Jake to get women. He was attractive, and he was a smooth talker. She'd watched him countless times as he picked up women. His interest in them was strictly sexual. After all, he was only twenty- six, and he had his whole life ahead of him. There was plenty of time to meet the right woman and settle down.
"You work so hard to distance yourself from other people. What if you push the right person away?"
"If I push the right person away and she leaves, then she wasn't right for me to start with." Jake's lips curved into a smile. "You take life way too seriously."
THE BAR WAS packed for a Tuesday night, which meant business was good.
"Did you enjoy dinner?" Moses asked.
Jake had just dropped off Dylan. "Very much. Seems we're busy tonight," Dylan said.
"Yeah, can I get you something?"
"No, I'm good."
The bar was her home. It was the only piece of her father that remained. He'd died almost five years ago, leaving her the bar and the apartment above it.
She'd been barely eight when her mother had passed away, and she'd practically raised herself after that. Her father started drinking up his own stock, and it ended up killing him. Shortly before he died, he'd sold the house she'd grown up in to pay off the mortgage on the apartment and bar.
Dylan loved her father. He'd been a good man, and he'd been good to her. She figured the reason it was so hard for her to open up to people was because her only relatives had died.
Apart from Moses and Jake, she didn't have anyone else. If ever there was a bit of a spark, it took very little for it to be extinguished. She'd never been in a serious relationship with a woman. Most of her romantic encounters lasted a couple of weeks, give or take, and then she moved on. She was used to it, so she didn't give it much thought.
Moses had been her father's best friend and had served as a father figure after her dad's death. He taught her everything she knew about running a bar. He didn't have children of his own or, as far as Dylan knew, any female companions. Like her father, he spent most of his time in the bar. The only difference between the two was that Moses didn't drink, and though he was a man of a few words, he took a genuine interest in Dylan's life.
DYLAN AND THE group were rotated to a different park the following afternoon. "How was the convicts' dinner?" she asked when she spotted Quinn.
"Very funny. Don't worry, you didn't miss anything. We just exchanged our sob-sob convict stories of how we ended up here."
It was the first time Dylan heard her voice lacking its usual positive energy. "Are we not in a happy-go-lucky mood today?" she teased.
Quinn frowned. "Maybe I woke up on your side of the bed today."
A little rattled by her atypical sarcasm, Dylan laughed softly. "In that case, do you want me to leave you alone?"
"If you don't mind."
It was odd seeing Quinn in such a mood. Usually, it seemed as if nothing could faze her.
Curiosity drove Dylan to go chat with her, but her dismissive attitude and unusual behavior left Dylan confused.
Had she finally gotten fed up with Dylan's bad attitude? Had the façade she always employed finally been cracked? Dylan wondered. Most importantly, was that how it felt to be so easily dismissed—like you didn't matter or your presence was a bother?
She signed out a few hours later and went to look for a cab. Jake was tied up at work, and it looked like it was going to start pouring. She was about to hail one when she saw Quinn leaning against her car. Something didn't seem right. She wanted to ignore it, but there weren't a lot of people around, and if something was wrong, she couldn't just leave.
Against her better judgment, she approached Quinn, stopping some distance away. She could see that Quinn was hyperventilating. "Quinn?" she called.
"I'm fine," Quinn huffed out between breaths.
Dylan watched her for a second. Quinn was covering her nose and mouth with her hands, and her face was pale. Dylan moved closer and gently placed a hand on Quinn's shoulder. She recognized what was happening. "Breathe into your hands," she said, "slowly and deeply."
Quinn closed her eyes and tried to follow Dylan's instructions, but her breathing didn't slow.
She carefully supported herself on the crutch and placed her other arm over Quinn's stomach.
"Look at me," she said firmly.
Quinn met her gaze.
"Take your time."
The panic and fear in Quinn's eyes were so familiar, Dylan felt as if she'd gone back in time, with her own pain grabbing her by the throat and choking the breath out of her. She was lost in a memory and didn't notice Quinn's breathing going back to normal until she felt a warm, gentle hand cover hers.
Dylan felt an uneasy sense of déjà vu, and then, an unlikely release came from Quinn.
"How did you know how to do that?" she asked.
"It used to happen to me a lot after I lost my father," Dylan said.
It took her a second to realize what she'd admitted, then another to become aware of how intimately close she was standing to Quinn. Quinn's gentle gaze and even softer touch mesmerized her, leaving her feeling utterly defenseless.
Dylan felt like a puppeteer was controlling her movements, or like she was no longer in her own body. It was uncomfortable, and she withdrew her hand from Quinn's and took a step back.
"Are you going to be okay?"
Quinn nodded, tearing her gaze away. Dylan felt helpless because she didn't know what to do. "Where are your car keys?"
Quinn fished them out of her bag and held them out. "Why?"
"Because I'm driving you home."
"I'm more than capable of driving myself."
Dylan snatched the keys. "If a repeat of your episode occurs while you're driving, someone could get hurt."
"Wait, you don't have a driver's license. You said it was suspended, remember? Plus, you have a broken foot." Quinn pointed to her left leg.
"This car is so small I can drive it with only my hands." Dylan got into the driver's seat. She shifted it back and settled in. When she looked for Quinn, she found her standing by the car with her arms crossed over her chest. "Or I could just take myself home," she teased.
"Dylan, I'm serious. If you're caught driving with a suspended license you could end up in a great deal of trouble."
"I'll drive slowly and carefully. I won't attract any attention to myself."
Quinn stood there for a while as though contemplating the idea, and then she went and reluctantly got into the passenger seat.
When she put on her seatbelt, Dylan continued, "Though I doubt it's possible to go completely unnoticed, since this is a clown car."
Quinn laughed, and Dylan was smiling as she drove out of the parking lot.
A couple of blocks down, Quinn asked, "How will you get home?"
"I was planning on spending the night."
When Quinn laughed, a warm sensation flooded through Dylan.
"I doubt your boyfriend would like that."
"Boyfriend?" Dylan said, recalling Quinn had seen Jake the previous day. "Oh, him. I don't think he'll mind."
Quinn looked at her quizzically, but Dylan failed to indulge her. "Do you have a big family?" she asked instead.
"I don't know if you'd call it big. I have three sisters and one brother. All are married except my brother, who is engaged. My parents love having them over every once in a while," Quinn said.
"Three sisters? Are you the last?"
"Yeah," Quinn said.
"Planning on getting married to follow in the family tradition?"
"Enough about me. Why don't you tell me more about yourself? Do you have any siblings?"
Dylan shook her head.
"So, it's just your mother and your boyfriend?"
Dylan bit her lower lip. "His name is Jake, and he's not my boyfriend. He's my best friend."
"Oh?"
Dylan wondered if the news pleased her.
"What about your mother?"
The exchange was getting close to home. To end it she said, "It's just me."
Awkwardness descended, and then Quinn said, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be, it happened a long time ago. I'm over it." She glanced at Quinn. "I could use some directions to your house."
Quinn provided them, and the rest of the drive was silent. When Dylan parked the car in the driveway, Quinn stepped out and headed for the front door.
Dylan struggled to get her broken leg out of the car and leaned against it as she stared at the elegant colonial-style, two-story home, with a stunning well-kept wrap-around porch. It had an aristocratic air, with a few modern touches. Since Quinn's dad was a judge, Dylan wondered whether any of her other relatives were in positions of power.
"Are you coming?" Quinn asked, halfway to the entrance.
Dylan held out the car keys. "I've done my good deed for the week. I should go."
"I thought you said you were going to spend the night." Dylan smiled.
"Come on, it'd be rude of me not to invite you in after you've actually succeeded in being nice to me," Quinn said.
Dylan hesitated before joining Quinn. "You should relish it. It only happens once in a blue moon."
If Dylan had been amazed by the size and magnificence of the exterior, she was shocked to see how extravagantly furnished the house was inside.
"For someone who is so rich, you sure drive a crappy car," she teased.
Quinn playfully punched her shoulder, just as a woman who was dressed in formal attire emerged from one of the adjoining rooms.
"Honey, you're home." She kissed Quinn's cheek.
From the display of affection, the facial resemblance, and the way the woman looked at Quinn, it was clear she was her mother.
"Mom, I'd like you to meet Dylan."
"Hello, Dylan. I'm Moira Peters, Quinn's mother."
This was the kind of situation Dylan preferred to avoid. She couldn't help being awkward in social settings. "Hello."
"You must join us for dinner. Quinn rarely brings her friends home to meet us." Before Dylan could decline, Moira added, "I insist."
Dylan looked at Quinn, who looked back at her with an amused smile. If Moira hadn't been so pleasant, Dylan would've run out of the room as though it housed the black plague. Instead, she heard herself saying, "Thank you, Mrs. Peters."
"What happened to your leg?" Moira asked.
Dylan didn't want to share the detailed story of the DUI, so she quickly brushed it off by saying, "I was in an accident, but I'm fine."
"You must be fed up with that cast. I broke my arm once. It was so uncomfortable. I could barely take it."
"It's a bitch." The words came out before Dylan could stop them.
Moira looked at her for a second and then broke into a peal of soft laughter.
"I think she likes you," Quinn said when they were alone.
Surprisingly, Dylan liked Moira, too. "Okay, I need to go. Tell her something urgent came up and I had to leave."
"Are you asking me to lie to my mother?" Quinn took her arm. "I can see why you like being alone."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You're socially awkward. What if my whole family were here?"
Quinn opened the door to the dining hall, and Dylan froze. The whole family was there.
"Are you kidding me?" Dylan said under her breath.
The whole room fell silent, and everyone turned to look at them. Dylan felt herself shrinking into a tiny organism with a giant eye watching her through a magnifying glass. If she had the power to disappear into thin air, she would've gratefully done so.
"Hi, everyone," Quinn said, letting Dylan's hand fall away from her own.
Everyone was standing, even though the night's meal was arrayed on the enormous dining table.
"Finally, you're here, so we can eat. I'm starving," said one of the six men in the room. Quinn chuckled. "Hi, Brian."
He gave Quinn a bear hug and then extended his hand to Dylan for a friendly handshake.
"This is my friend, Dylan. Dylan, meet my goofy brother," Quinn said.
She shook Brian's hand, and then he introduced her to the rest of the people in the room. Three of the men were married to the sisters, one was Quinn's father, and the remaining one, she was unsure, so she assumed he was a friend of the family.
Everyone said a pleasant hello to her, and they all sat down for dinner. As the head of the family, Quinn's father sat at the far end of the table while Moira sat on the opposite end, facing him. The other five men sat on one side of the table, while the women sat opposite them.
It was a pleasant setting, and everyone engaged in conversation, which Dylan liked because no one paid her any attention. She was seated next to Quinn, enjoying the food as she listened to the family debate politics.
"I'm sorry if you feel ambushed," Quinn said.
The look of surprise on Quinn's face when they'd entered the room to find everyone present was evidence enough to show she hadn't known the entire family was there, so Dylan didn't hold it against her.
"I think our relationship is moving too fast," she said. "Bringing me home to meet the family." Quinn laughed at the joke, and a warm feeling went through Dylan. "I love the food, though," she added.
"Well, have as much as you want."
"Don't they have kids?" Dylan asked, pointing a fork in the general direction of Quinn's siblings.
"All except Brian."
Dylan shot a glance at the remaining man, who appeared to have no familial relationship. "Who is he?"
"Michael Evans. He's a family friend."
Dylan nodded, but she couldn't help wondering if that was all he was. He kept looking lingeringly at Quinn. She wondered if Quinn knew that he liked her. "You have a beautiful family."
Everyone was friendly and pleasant, and Dylan didn't feel quite as awkward as she'd expected at first seeing the dining room full of strangers.
"Thank you."
The odd thing, or maybe not, was that everyone was formally dressed. The men wore elegant black suits and the women were in trendy formal outfits that bespoke their position in society. Their appearance was in marked contrast to Quinn's, who was casually and comfortably dressed in a simple dress and flip-flops, with her hair cascading over her shoulders.
Dylan thought Quinn's look suited her. It gave her a more relaxed aspect in contrast to the seriousness the outfits gave the others. It also made Dylan feel a little less out of place since she was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
When dessert was served, the conversation changed. The sisters started talking about their children, schools they were enrolled in, and a whole lot of other things that Dylan did not connect with, while the men discussed their work and political views, among other things.
"Is it always like this?" Dylan asked.
"Pretty much, though sometimes we actually talk about ourselves. It gets awkward then, so this kind of conversation is much preferred," Quinn said.
"I really do have to go after dessert. I don't want to leave too late."
"You can take my car," Quinn offered.
"No. I'll just get an Uber. Besides, if I take your car, how will you get to the park tomorrow?"
"I'll have someone drop me off."
As much as Dylan disliked the small mobile contraption, using it to get home was a tempting offer, but she wanted to be responsible. "My license, remember?" She also didn't want to appear as though she was taking advantage of Quinn's kindness.
After dinner, the family broke up into three groups and continued their chatting over wine. It felt like a formal party, and Dylan was a bit overwhelmed, as she'd never been a participant in such a setting before.
"Let's go up to my room," Quinn suggested.
They left unnoticed, for which Dylan was grateful. Quinn's room was in the second wing of the house. The room had a warm, soft atmosphere with a formidable queen-sized bed, a dresser, a desk with a laptop on it, a walk-in closet, and a door that led to the bathroom.
Quinn's easygoing manner seemed out of place in the world in which she lived. What was someone rich, educated, and obviously classy doing serving community service and driving such a tiny car? Why was she so friendly? It didn't make sense.
"Are you one of those weirdos who is always out to fix people or things that are broken?" Dylan asked.
"What?"
Quinn was looking at her in what Dylan interpreted as bewilderment.
"Why did you befriend me?" she clarified.
"Because that's the sort of person I am. I'm friendly."
Feeling stupid at having asked the question, Dylan shrugged and went over to the window. It looked out over the back of the huge house.
"You think I befriended you because I thought you were broken and needed fixing?" Quinn asked.
"Forget it. It's my foul temper talking." What was she doing? Why was she in Quinn's house? What was she thinking? No good deed goes unpunished, she thought.
She felt Quinn's hand on the small of her back and froze. The touch, warmth, and gentleness of it was so unexpected. Every voice in her head stilled, and her heart started palpitating. It was the strangest thing she'd ever felt, and she had no idea how to interpret it.
Dylan turned around to face Quinn and was startled by how close they were standing to one another. Her heart was doing a vigorous dance, an unfamiliar feeling that warned her of potential danger. She should've listened to its warning. She always had before. She briefly wondered why her guard was down this time.
"You did well tonight. Better than I thought you might, actually. Guess I misjudged you," Quinn said.
Her voice caught in her throat. Dylan was afraid if she spoke, the words would come out strangled or shrill. "I misjudged myself," she managed to say.
Quinn's hands rested on Dylan's hips, and her eyes were locked on Dylan's as though she was searching for something.
Dylan reached for one of her hands, which was as involuntary as it was surprising. With her other hand, she trailed a finger over the flawless outline of the strong jaw until it came to rest on Quinn's chin. Dylan closed her eyes and absorbed the moment with her other senses, almost as though she was slaking a thirst that had gone unquenched for far too long, and God, it felt good.
She covered Quinn's face with the palm of her hand. Their bodies were so close it felt as if they were sharing an intimate chat. When Quinn slowly moved her hand over Dylan's waist, Dylan took that as permission being granted. She was about to learn what it was like to kiss someone who was evoking sensations in her that she'd never felt before.
When their lips touched, Dylan's world began to spin as a warm fuzzy feeling embraced her. She was about to rein in her desire so that she could enjoy the lingering excitement of Quinn's lips when a knock on the door parted them.
Dylan watched Quinn cross to the door, fully composing herself by the time she reached it. She regretted that the kiss hadn't gone further and developed an immediate dislike for whoever was on the other side of the door.
Quinn looked at her as though silently asking if she was prepared, and Dylan nodded, barely concealing her disappointment.
When Quinn opened the door, Michael Evans, the family friend from dinner, stepped into the room. Dylan didn't feel even slightly guilty about the resentment she felt towards him for his untimely appearance.
"Hello, ladies," he said.
Dylan knew it was time for her to leave, but Michael was between her and the door. "We haven't been introduced," he said. "I'm Michael Evans."
Dylan almost said that she was already aware of whom he was, but she summoned a shred of common courtesy and responded, "Dylan Summers."
"It's a pleasure to meet you." He extended his hand.
Dylan's frustration grew. They could have been formally introduced downstairs. Couldn't he have waited a few more minutes?
He went to Quinn and affectionately wrapped his arm around her. "I'm Quinn's fiancé," he added.
She was certain she'd heard him wrong. Yet the longing in his eyes was for his bride-to-be. Dylan waited for Quinn to say something, to refute what Michael had said, but she remained silent, her face turned away from Dylan.
"Did I interrupt something?" Michael asked.
Shapeless thoughts galloped through her head as Dylan cleared her throat and said, "I should go."
Without waiting for either of them to speak, she left the room. She was grateful when she was able to hurry unnoticed past the gathering in the living room.
When she was out of the house, she took in several deep breaths of the cool night air and tried to put what had just happened out of her mind.