Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
I headed to the truck for the swing. “You do that.”
We worked together seamlessly. I looped the ropes over the branch, securing them well, then added the swing, knotting the heavy rope tightly. “This would hold even me,” I assured Quinn. “You can swing with her if you want. I made it large enough.”
Quinn ran her hand over the smooth wood. “You painted it her favorite color.”
“Of course.”
She traced her finger over the decals I had added. The bright colors and big petals had caught my eye while I was picking up the paint, and I knew they were the perfect addition to the swing. Bob had side-eyed me while I was paying, but I’d refused to engage with him. I’d gotten out of the store as quickly as I could before he started to tease me.
“How did you do the flowers?”
“Oh, ah…” I trailed off, then cleared my throat. “I saw them at the hardware store and I thought Abby would like them. Jenny, the woman who ran the paint area, explained how to put them on, and then I sealed them under twenty layers of varnish. She won’t get any splinters, and the flowers won’t fade as much.”
She knelt beside the swing, running her hand over the satin of the wood. “It’s so amazing.” She looked up, her eyes shining. “No one has ever done anything like this for her. Thank you.”
I stared down, once again trying to lock my body down. I could see Quinn on her knees exactly the way she was now, but the scenario was totally changed. We were alone, in my bedroom, and neither of us was dressed. My cock jumped at the mental image, and I swore I almost felt her touch. Our eyes remained locked, and I felt the air around us change. Grow taut with tension. Her breathing picked up, and my heart began to gallop.
Then her phone rang, breaking the spell. She scrambled off her knees as I turned, bending to throw some tools back in the box.
“Hey, baby,” she crooned, her voice sounding rougher than normal. She listened for a moment. “Are you sure? You really want to?” Again, she was quiet. “Okay. Let me speak to her mom.”
I went to the truck, loading my tools back up. I returned as she hung up. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, they’re having a barbecue and invited her to stay. I’ll pick her up about seven now.” She blinked, and I saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. Concerned, I moved closer.
“Hey, you okay?”
She sniffed, wiping away the wetness. “Sorry, I’m being silly.” She sighed. “I wanted her to find friends. To be a kid. Laugh, yell—” she pushed at the swing, making it move gently “—play outside.”
“She didn’t do those things before?”
“No.” Quinn inhaled, letting it out slowly. “Her father didn’t like noise. Dirt. Laughter. Color. Everything was black and white. We were expected to be quiet. Know our place.” She looked down, scuffing her foot in the grass. “I couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t want that for my daughter. I left him.”
“That took courage,” I said with honest admiration.
“I wish I had done it sooner.”
“Sometimes you have to wait for the right time.”
She sighed. “Well, I found it. I moved out, fought with him for months, then got my freedom. But he was still too close. My friend Cathy heard about the opportunity here and called me.” She smiled, looking around. “I found this place. We got a fresh start.”
“Are you concerned he’ll come looking for you?”
Her laugh was bitter. “No. He’s getting remarried. He was happy his past mistakes weren’t going to be around to embarrass him anymore.”
“You’re not a mistake. Neither is Pumpkin,” I insisted, almost growling the words.
“He thought so.”
“Obviously, he is an asshole.”
She began to laugh. “Yes, yes, he is.”
“And so am I. I apologize.”
She shook her head. “There’s a difference. He wanted to hurt me. Control me. You just…didn’t like me.”
I blew out a long breath. “You’re wrong, Quinn. The problem was I did like you. I still do. I was just reacting to my own screwed-up past, and I took it out on you.”
“I guess we both need to move forward.”
I stuck out my hand. “We do. I’m John.”
She let me take her hand, my large palm engulfing hers. “Quinn.”
For a second, neither of us spoke. Then she smiled. “Can I offer you a drink, John? To say thanks for the swing?”
“I’d like that.”
I followed her to the porch, and she held open the door. Inside, I looked around, noticing the hominess of the small space. The toys in the corner. The blankets and cushions on the sofa.
“Check out her room if you want,” Quinn called.
It was easy to identify which one was Abby’s. The bright-pink walls, the frilly curtains and bedspread. The toys strewn around. I had to admit the color was too much for me, but I knew the kid loved it, and that was all that mattered.