Quinn bustled into the house, keeping her eyes forward. Her cheeks were warm, and it was hard to breathe. Her whole body tingled with awareness.

Very soon, she’d come crashing back to earth and the full realization of what’d happened this morning would hit her with all the weight of parental responsibility, but right now she didn’t much care. At least not about what they’d done.

Letting Owen continue to believe that she had followed in her mother’s footsteps was chipping away at her giddy high. What her friends were about to say, that wasn’t exactly something she could control.

She’d let Owen buy Kierra a bed.

A bed.

And not just any bed, the antique white one with pink flowers painted all along the whimsically carved headboard and footboard, with a detachable canopy. Owen had pegged it as the one bed Kierra would love above all others.

It was fit for a princess.

He was right.

And she’d said nothing as he laid down cash to buy it.

Quinn had no idea how much it’d cost, or the mattress, which the antique shop had still in the original plastic. Someone had offloaded it for a steal and the shop owner didn’t want it taking up space. She’d been too busy reeling over yet another Owen kiss to put a stop to it. They were sneaky things that started innocent enough and led to weak knees, jumbled thoughts and a racing heartbeat.

She stepped through the front door and smiled.

Everything was fine. Nothing was wrong.

Taylor and Chloe sat on the sofa, eyes large as saucers, while the sounds of three girls playing echoed down the hall.

“I can’t wait to hear what happened to you,” Chloe said without the decency to keep her volume down.

“Sh.” Quinn laid her finger across her lips.

“You cannot do that to me,” Chloe whined, holding up her coffee mug like an offering.

“Both of you, hush.” Quinn slashed her hand through the air.

She didn’t know what was happening between her and Owen, only that it was changing. She wasn’t ready for change. She didn’t handle it well. Hell, she was still adjusting to being friendly with Owen. What was she going to do about kissing Owen?

The front door swung open, and Owen himself backed in, carrying the end of the white frame.

“Good lord, did you already break your bed?” Chloe leaned forward, completely bemused.

“Chloe!” Quinn stared at her friend, wide-eyed and horrified.

“Watch the door.” Owen grunted under the weight of the solid-wood bed frame.

Quinn scrambled to hold the door while Owen and the delivery guy from the shop wrestled the biggest pieces of the frame through the front room and down the hall. Quinn, Chloe and Taylor stood back and watched the marvel of the male form at work, hefting and maneuvering the pieces through Kierra’s door without so much as bumping the pictures that had hung on the wall since her mother put them there.

“Wow, I really hate my brother’s friends.” Chloe sighed.

“I approve,” Taylor said.

“You two, shut it,” Quinn whispered.

“What?” Chloe shrugged and chuckled. “He’s practically moved in with you, Kierra adores him, he fixes things—you could do a lot worse.”

“Nothing is happening.” Quinn smiled.

Nothing was happening right now... She couldn’t say that about earlier, when he’d kissed her half a dozen times before coming up for breath. She’d never imagined kissing someone’s lips to be that...stimulating.

“Right, then why are you wearin’ your nice tank top?” Chloe crossed her arms over her chest.

“That’s your nice tank top?” Taylor’s brows rose.

“It is because someone refuses to go shoppin’ for real clothes.” Chloe narrowed her gaze.

“I have clothes, thank you very much.” Quinn huffed, though inwardly she was screaming.

“It’s a perfectly nice top,” Taylor said.

“You are comin’ to my house right now and you’re goin’ to tell us everythin’. Also, I have tops for you to try on. Right now.” Chloe grabbed Quinn by the hand and pulled her toward the door.

“What? No. The girls—”

“Have just been given the biggest build-it set in the world and the most patient man in the world, besides my brother, to walk them through how to put a bed together. They’re fine.” Chloe gave Quinn an unforgiving shove out the front door.

“Chloe—Chloe, stop! Taylor, tell her to stop.” Quinn glanced over her shoulder at the other woman, but Taylor merely shrugged and closed the front door behind them.

“Here’s what we’re going to do.” Chloe hooked her arm through Quinn’s and opened the umbrella she’d left on the porch with the other. “You’re goin’ to go through my donation clothes, take what you like, and give us the scoop on what didn’t happen this mornin’. I know you won’t go shoppin’ with us, but you should look your age. Not like a granny.”

“I don’t look like a granny.”

“You dress older than I do,” Taylor said.

“Fine. Whatever.” As mortifying as it was, Quinn appreciated the offer of Chloe’s cast offs. They’d be newer than what Quinn would find at thrift stores for non-work or parent clothes.

“Tonight, Kierra’s goin’ to stay with us. That’ll give you and Owen a little time to consider your options.” Chloe grinned.

“That’s really—Taylor—some help?” Quinn peered over her shoulder at Taylor, who was bringing up the rear with her own umbrella.

“Don’t Taylor help me. I’m with Chloe on this one. You and Owen could be good for each other.”

That was what Quinn was afraid of.

Could be wasn’t certainty. There was no guarantee Quinn wouldn’t get her heart broken and that Owen wouldn’t leave them. “Could be” didn’t make a safety net.

They rounded the block and made it to Chloe’s house before the rain worsened. While Taylor put on more coffee, Quinn and Chloe went upstairs to the master retreat.

“Answer me this.” Chloe leaned against the entry to her closet while Quinn perched on the bed. “Why don’t you like Owen? He’s cute. He’s dependable. He’s good with kids. And he puts up with your prickly ass.”

“Here we go.” Taylor, followed by two of the resident miniature French Bulldogs, handed out fresh, warm coffee. “Did I miss something?”

“Quinn’s going to tell me why not Owen.”

Quinn stared at the carpet. There was a red stain from Kool-Aid, and the dresser had been moved to cover up the spot where Kierra and Delilah had thought to create a mural for Chloe.

Why not Owen?

“I don’t have anything to offer him, except more work. I’m work. My life is work. No one wants to be with that.” Quinn sipped the coffee and kept her gaze on the carpet.

“I get that.” Taylor perched on the mattress next to her. “Ian had a lot more hope for my future than I did, and you don’t have a psychopathic stepmother after you.”

“Owen’s a good guy. I’d trust his picker over mine. We all know how broken that is.” Chloe sighed and turned toward her closet.

“He kissed me today.” Quinn tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

“Shut up. Was it good?” Chloe grinned over her shoulder.

“Yeah. I don’t have much to compare it to.” Quinn felt her cheeks. Her blush was so severe she practically had a fever.

“What’s wrong, then?” Chloe started draping things on hangers over her arm.

“Just...what happens when he leaves? What do we do, then? Kierra already loves him, I like him... What happens to us when he leaves?” Quinn glanced up from the carpet. It was well and good for Chloe to talk about flings and having fun, but the reality was that it was all talk. They were single mothers to special children. The rules were different for them.

“You take it one day at a time.” Chloe smiled then returned to selecting a growing number of items from her closet. “I should have made you come over and look through this stuff sooner.”

“There’s something else...” The one thing that was eating at Quinn.

“Yeah?” Taylor sipped her coffee and scratched the head of an attention hungry pup.

“Owen thinks... He doesn’t understand that I’m the secretary at HI-Co.—”

“You’re the Business Manager,” Chloe said.

“I answer phones, get coffee and clean bathrooms. I’m a secretary.”

“Business Manager. And so what? You have a job, you pay your bills, you get shit done. What’s wrong with that?” Chloe dumped an armload of stuff across Quinn’s lap.

“Because...” Quinn opened and closed her mouth.

How did she explain that it hurt? All she’d ever wanted to do growing up was be like her mother. That dream was dead. The path closed to her. But Owen saw her as more. When she told him the truth, she wouldn’t be the same person.

“Look, you’ve sacrificed and done a lot.” Chloe stared into Quinn’s eyes, the laughing, jovial attitude gone. “I don’t know if I could do what either of you have done for your sisters. Lord knows, I’d like to strangle Ian’s fat neck sometimes. What I do know is that...if he isn’t goin’ to stay with you, there isn’t anythin’ you can do to make him. But you can sure as hell enjoy him while you have him.”

“If I wasn’t pregnant, I’d steal that.” Taylor pinched the fabric of a purple top in the middle of the stack.

“Do we have to do this right now?” Quinn groaned inwardly and eyed the clothing.

“Yes. You want to feel sexy, don’t you?” Chloe grinned, the devil-may-care attitude back in place.

“What’s the point of all this?” Quinn sighed. “Are clothes really that important?”

“No,” Taylor said without hesitation.

“Then what are we doing? The girls are probably about to hang Owen from the canopy.”

“The night Ian took me away from my father, I had nothing. No clothes, no money, not even a toothbrush.” Taylor glanced at Quinn and smiled. “He stopped and got me some things to wear. There was this...black top. You’ve seen me wear it, it has the eyelet embroidery?”

“Yeah.” Quinn coveted that top, but she’d never say so. Knowing Taylor, she’d give it away.

“I thought it looked ridiculous in the bag so I didn’t put it on until days later. My life was over, I thought for sure the FBI was going to charge me with something. But...I put that top on, looked at myself in the mirror—it was still me—but I looked, I don’t know. Better. More me. I was wearing my clothes, not the other way around. It’s not about the clothes or Owen. It’s about you.”

“Here.” Chloe picked up the shirt on top. “Get to trying on.”

“Thank you.” Owen accepted the empty tea cup from Stacey and held it to his lips.

The girls had tried to convince him that it was perfectly acceptable to make tea for their party, but without Quinn’s okay, he wasn’t biting, and he wasn’t going to bug her. Chloe had texted, asking for a little time with Quinn. He wasn’t sure, but he had a feeling that Chloe was on his side in this.

Whatever this was.

“We could really use some sugar for our tea.” Stacey gave him a pointed stare.

“I think it’s perfect the way it is.” Besides, he’d just put this whole bed together, the last thing he wanted was for the girls to spill tea and sugar on the bed before Kierra got to sleep in it.

“He’s not going to budge,” Kierra said.

“Fine.” Stacey held out her little finger and sipped air from her cup.

Delilah had stopped playing along, and instead lay back on the pillows, close to passing out. They’d played their little hearts out today, that was for sure.

Owen checked the time.

Late afternoon.

The girls had had lunch before they’d come over, but even he could do with a snack. He ran through the list of what he knew was in the kitchen and came up short on kid-appealing food. Quinn tended to keep little on hand, most of it either pre-packaged and sugary or fresh.

The front door banged open.

“Girls? Have you killed Owen yet?” Chloe called out.

“Mama!” Delilah sat straight up and swung her crutch, nailing Owen in the back.

He grunted and winced while Delilah and Stacey bolted for the door, leaving Kierra and Owen to pick up the pieces to the tea set. If it weren’t for the small smile on the little girl’s face Owen might be concerned.

“You have fun today?” he asked her quietly.

“Yes.” Kierra glanced up, her eyes dancing.

“Things going better with Stacey?”

“Yes.”

“Excited about visiting your grandparents tomorrow?”

“Mamaw lets me stay up late,” Kierra whispered.

“Oh, we better not let Quinn find out.” He winked and she giggled.

“Kierra?” Chloe stepped into the room. “Hey, Owen. I see they didn’t murder you. Thanks for looking after them.”

“They’re fun to hang out with.” He gave Kierra a little nudge.

“So, Kierra, babe, you’re goin’ to come stay with us tonight. How’s that sound?” Chloe’s smile was too wide. It set off all of Owen’s warning bells.

What were the women up to?

“Really?” Kierra perked up. “Did sissy say it was okay?”

“It was your sister’s idea.” Chloe glanced at him and winked.

Why did Owen smell a lie?

Probably because Quinn was, if nothing else, a thoughtful parent to her little sister. Carting her off to her friend’s house the night before she left for a stay of undetermined length to her grandparents just didn’t seem like something Quinn would do.

Kierra scrambled off the bed and began pulling clothes out of her drawers that weren’t already packed for her trip. Chloe swooped in and helped her before hustling her out of the room.

Owen stepped between Chloe and Kierra, blocking her from leaving.

“What are you up to?” he asked, pitching his voice low.

“Quinn’s under so much pressure I just thought I’d give her a bonus night off.” Chloe smiled.

He kept staring at her.

“Fine.” Chloe rolled her eyes and huffed. “You seem like you’re into her. Now here’s time to be into her. You’re on the short list of guys I don’t have to threaten with their life if you hurt her. You might even be good for each other. Make the most of it!”

Chloe ducked under his arm and darted past. He frowned at her back. There was no way this would go well. Chloe wanted to push Quinn into doing something, which in his limited experience meant that she’d be contrary on principle and do the exact opposite. It only stood to hurt his chances with Quinn. Not that there was much of a chance. She’d let him kiss her because of a moment. The stars had aligned and it’d been perfect, but it wouldn’t last. Quinn would have to decide on her own if she was interested in him. Her friends pushing her at him wouldn’t help.

He followed in Chloe’s wake, but she was already gone with the munchkins.

He crossed to the door, but it opened before he could reach it. Quinn took a step over the threshold and froze, eyes wide.

“Hey...I’m sorry about this afternoon,” Quinn said in a rush.

“Don’t worry about it. You guys have fun?” He leaned past her, shutting the door.

“Yes.”

Quinn pivoted, keeping her eyes on him.

Something was going on.

He straightened, still puzzling out what he wasn’t seeing.

“You’re staring. What are you staring at?” Quinn tugged at her shirt. “Is something wrong?”

“You...weren’t wearing that earlier... Were you?”

“No. It looks stupid, doesn’t it?” Quinn sighed.

“No, I just...something was different and I couldn’t figure it out. Nothing stupid or wrong about it.” He reached out and snagged a piece of her hair that had stuck to her lips.

Quinn was wearing make-up.

Not a lot. Just a little.

“Thanks. Chloe decided I needed to have a bunch of stuff she doesn’t like anymore. She has this bad habit of buying clothes super-late at night when she can’t sleep, then it shows up and she’s too embarrassed to return it.”

“Well, you look great, so I guess it’s a win-win?” Owen shook his head and chuckled. Women. The great mystery.

“I guess.” Quinn shifted her weight, still not quite at ease. Probably because he was boxing her in.

Right.

Just because she’d let him kiss her that morning didn’t mean it was still okay.

“The girls are at Chloe’s,” Quinn said.

“Yeah, she mentioned they were sleeping over.”

“Seems a shame Kierra won’t get to sleep in her new bed.”

“It’ll still be here when she gets back.” He turned toward the kitchen, though doing so meant taking his eyes off Quinn. Probably for the best.

“Were the girls any trouble today?” Quinn followed him and posted up at the bar on a stool.

“Those three? They’re pure trouble, but I know how to handle it.” He’d always been good with kids, maybe because his family seemed to always be growing. There wasn’t really an option for not liking kids. “Is it too early to start dinner?”

“Did you have lunch?”

“No, the girls already ate.”

“Owen.” Quinn frowned at him, which was far cuter than she meant it to be.

“Is that a no to dinner?”

“All I had were some eggrolls.” Quinn wrinkled her nose.

“Early dinner it is.” He pulled out a baking dish and began pre-heating the oven.

“How did you get to be so good at everything? I can hardly do one thing right, and you’re mister, I do it all.”

“Well, I grew up in a family of six. My two older sisters could burn water, which meant it was up to me to figure out cooking, since they couldn’t do it. Still can’t. Which is probably why they both married men who can.”

“Were your parents chefs or something?”

“Ours? No.” Owen laughed and shook his head. “Dad was a career State Trooper, and mom had her hands full just raising us. They shipped us off to my mom’s parent’s place. They’re the ones who owned the farm, and we’d get into trouble out there. A lot of trouble.”

“Sounds like a big, happy family.” Quinn sighed and crossed her arms on the counter.

“Things are rarely what they appear.” Owen stared at the glass pan, letting his vision go hazy.

“What do you mean?”

“Just...appearances are deceiving.” Owen seasoned the chicken on autopilot. “Mom...I think she thought all she could do was be a mom. She loved us, don’t get me wrong, but playing mom and housewife wasn’t really her thing.”

“It wasn’t my mom’s either. She learned from trying to hands-on raise me that she’d rather have a nanny. Kierra’s was hired before she was born. She was at Kierra’s birth.”

“Wow.”

“Mom said she realized with me that being a mother wasn’t her strong suit, and there were people out there who had that skill set, so she wanted to hire the best caregiver she could.” Quinn had that same far off look. “Do I wish she was more of a mom? Yes, but, I also realized that it was her way of caring for me and showing me—in her own way—that she loved me.”

“I’m sorry I won’t get to meet her.”

“What about your parents? Are they still around?”

“Dad retired a couple years back, and they live in her parent’s old farm house. She took up gardening. She’s happier. Good at it. She does all the local farmer’s markets, forces dad to go with her and sell stuff. It took her a long time, but she’s happier now.”

“She found where she grew best.”

“She did.”

He slid the dish into the oven, content to wait it out for now.

“It’s not my place to say it,” Quinn sucked down a breath before continuing, “but I think you should look into other police departments. There’s more than just Seattle. You’re good at what you do. You like it.”

“You’re right. And I know it. The whole situation’s just frustrating.”

“Is there something I can do?”

“You’ve listened to me, put me up, and allowed me to fix all your broken appliances. I think that’s been help enough.”

“Owen.” Quinn narrowed her gaze and frowned at him.

He circled the bar. She turned to face him.

Quinn had that scary face down to an art. Too bad it didn’t deter him. Much. He stopped in front of her.

He still intended to figure out who—and why—someone had broken into the house. He was content to play watchdog for now. It gave him something useful to do. But it didn’t mean he’d forgotten the woman who used to oppose him at every turn. He rather liked them being on the same side. Quinn’s spine of steel was admirable when she wasn’t aiming that determination at opposing him.

“You can’t keep doing all this stuff for us.” She’d said that enough he’d stopped listening to her when she said it. Until she told him, in no uncertain terms, to stop, he’d abide by their agreement.

One project per day.

He hadn’t even gotten to work on the vents today. Did that meant tomorrow was a twofer?

He took a half step forward until his hip was between her knees. He grabbed a napkin and swiped it at a spot of color on her cheek.

“There.” He smiled down at her.

She stared at him, eyes a little wide, lips parted, as though she were afraid to move.

They hadn’t exactly addressed the whole kissing thing earlier.

He’d rather give it another go than talk about it, but this was Quinn. She was going to want to talk at some point.

He lifted his hand, running it over the now clean spot.

Still soft.

Still her.

He had said that before was her one chance to tell him no, and she hadn’t. Quinn was adept at all uses of the word and showed zero hesitance in using it. She seemed to have a much harder time with yes.

Owen was willing to take a chance on yes.

He leaned in to the tune of her sharp intake of breath. Her chin lifted slightly. It was all the invitation he needed. He slid his hand around to cup her head and turned the rest of his body toward her, until he stood in the V of her legs. He kissed her cheek first, the corner of her mouth. She turned her face toward his, not yet satisfied.

He grinned and nipped her lower lip, causing her to start. He pulled her to the edge of the stool, until her body pressed against his, and only then did he seal his lips over hers. Her hands splayed against his chest, her fingers curling into the material of his shirt.

She tasted sweet, like some sort of strawberry lip balm. A delicious appetizer for the starving man. Her tongue swiped against his skin, showing no such hesitation.

He’d only meant to kiss her. To see what had happened. An exploratory kiss. This was a devouring one.

Quinn wrapped her arm around his waist, her fingers stroking up under his shirt. She hooked one calf around the back of his thigh, her warmth soaking through his clothes. He slid his hand up higher into her hair, hooking his fingers through the strands until he could gently tip her head back.

He kissed her jaw and down her throat. He could feel the flex of the muscles when she swallowed and the flutter of her pulse against his lips.

Quinn hadn’t yet said no.

He slid his hand down her side.

Her body screamed yes.

He cupped her ass and pulled her almost off the stool, pressing her against him. Her eyes widened. Those dark lashes framed her hazel eyes.

He kissed the base of her throat, then hugged her to him.

It wasn’t enough to say yes, she had to mean it, and like this? He couldn’t, in good conscience, let this continue. Quinn was a woman of amazing resolve and strength. He wanted her to want him, not to convince her of it. Anything less than her all in was an illusion.

Owen pressed his lips to the top of her head, then backed up, untangling their bodies.

“W-what are you doing?” Quinn asked.

“Putting on the brakes.” He braced his hands on the kitchen counter, committing this picture of Quinn to memory.