A half an hour later, she pushed the chair back from the desk and sighed. “It’s amazing.”
“Thank you,” Quinn said so quickly that she doubted he’d been working at all.
“I’ve never seen anything like it. Not that I’ve seen a lot of custom-built, multimillion-dollar estates.” She heard him set down a pencil.
“I’m not that rich, you know.”
Arching an eyebrow, Lori spun the chair around to give him her best look of sardonic doubt. “Uh-huh.”
“Seriously.”
“Is this about that argument we had yesterday?”
“Not really. I just don’t want you to think I’m one of those guys. All of my money is tied up in this land. The building is taking so long because I’m trading for labor.”
“You’re what?”
“I’m bartering. Designing houses for the contractors and foremen in exchange for a steep discount. The suppliers are a bit more complicated, but I’m working on them. And some of the work I’ll do myself, of course.”
“Still…you’re not exactly struggling.”
He shrugged, leaning a little farther into his stool. “I was lucky. I interned with an amazing architect. He took me under his wing, and when he retired, he urged a lot of influential people to give me a chance. I wouldn’t be even half as established now if it hadn’t been for Walter McInnis.”
Lori darted a glance at the mess of files on the desk and wondered if she should risk it. But she had nothing else to go on, so there was little choice. “McInnis hooked you up with people like Peter Anton?”
“Exactly. Those kinds of developments were my bread and butter the first couple of years. Now I can be a bit more choosy.”
“But I see you’re working on something for them now.” She inclined her head toward the desk, and Quinn frowned. Her heart rate kicked up to panic mode when he said nothing. “Ah, I saw a drawing of a house.”
“Oh, right. That’s just a proposal. Some hush-hush deal that hasn’t gone through yet. They wanted to get it on my radar because they’re planning a big campaign as soon as it’s official, I guess.”
Lori felt her eyelids flutter. A riverfront deal that hadn’t gone through yet? This could be her land. But it made no sense. It was Tumble Creek. Who the hell would buy a multimillion-dollar home they could access for only a few months a year? Sure, they could get up there during the winter, but all their rich friends would be on the other side of the mountain, so what was the point?
“Did you like the house or something?”
Lori stopped biting her lip and tried to look like someone who wasn’t thinking of stealing her lover’s top secret paperwork. “Sure. It was nice. I’m just trying to think of what river it could be. The Roaring Fork is surrounded by federal land in most places.”
He shrugged. “Must be one of its tributaries. God knows these developers wouldn’t hesitate to call a stream a river if it meant more sales.”
“You don’t know where it is?”
“It’s not official, so I couldn’t very well go and walk it anyway. And neither could they. They only gave me some general ideas to work with.” His mouth twitched down a little. “Why? What’s up?”
“Nothing,” she said too loudly.
“I hope this doesn’t have anything to do with Peter looking at your ass last night. Because I like your ass, too, if that’s what you want to hear.”
She grinned on a rush of relief. “That’s all I needed. Thanks.”
His smile didn’t match hers. He didn’t look relieved at all. “Lori…” he said, a sort of a question in his voice that faded away before he could ask it.
Crap. He must suspect she was up to something. She tried very hard not to look at the file. What kind of a girl planned on stealing something from a man she was sleeping with, anyway?
He met her eyes briefly before his gaze drifted to the ground.
Maybe
he
had something to hide. Maybe he was sleeping with her just so he could get access to the exact dimensions of her property! Bastard!
“Lori,” he started again. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh?”
“Last night was…”
She blinked, trying to keep her eyes in her head despite the abrupt subject change. She’d been worrying about the wrong thing. “Yeah?” she croaked. Last night was
what?
Amazing? Scary? The kind of freak show he never thought he’d get himself involved in?
A change of subject had seemed ideal, yet now Lori thought longingly of the top secret real estate minefield she’d been tiptoeing through.
“Last night was fun. More than fun.”
“Um…Thanks.”
His eyes rose to meet hers. “It’s all been more than fun.”
“Thank you. Again.” Premonition made her skin tighten with anxiety. “And I agree. This has been great. You’ve been great. Definitely.”
He narrowed his eyes at her as if he were trying to figure something out. Her face flushed and the heat seeped inside her, leaching deep into her body.
She said, “Anyway,” about to break for the door and make her escape, but Quinn interrupted her flight.
“I think we should give this a chance.”
The words fell into the room like a rock. A heavy rock that might break something if it kept rolling toward Lori. She took a step back and shook her head. “What?”
“We should give this a chance. Us, I mean.”
“Um…”
“It doesn’t have to be a summer fling. It could be more. A lot more.”
The rock rolled solidly onto her chest and sat there, defying the laws of gravity. Molly had been right. Quinn’s temper had been a very bad sign.
She said, “No,” just because that’s all she could get out.
“Come on. We’re great together. We’ve known each other since you could walk. The sex is amazing.” His smile screamed nervousness. “And we’re friends.”
“This is…” She swallowed against something solid lodged in her throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This can’t be anything more.”
“Why?”
“Um…because I won’t see you for at least six months while the pass is closed?”
Quinn shrugged as if that was nothing. “Plenty of people have long-distance relationships.”
“Yeah, in college. And those usually work out so well.”
“Lori, we’re not in college. We’re adults. There’s no reason we couldn’t make it work. We could make an effort to see each other every few weeks, at least.”
She stood up too fast and had to put a hand on the desk to steady herself. “No, that’s
not
what this is. I made that clear to you. You volunteered to have a purely sexual relationship with me. I can’t handle anything more. My life is a complete mess.”
“So? This doesn’t have to be a messy part of it.”
“‘So?’ That’s it? That’s your response?”
“Yeah, that’s it. I’m not asking you to marry me, Lori. I just want to keep seeing you.”
Okay. Okay, maybe her panic was a bit of an over-reaction. Quinn was right. He wasn’t asking to marry her. He hadn’t even mentioned love. So why was her heart throwing a tantrum in her chest, screaming for her to run, run, run?
“Let’s not argue, all right?” Quinn said softly, any sign of a smile long gone from his face. “I didn’t mean this to be some grand declaration. Just think about it. That’s all. No big deal.”
What kind of a person was she that she just wanted to shout “No!” and stomp from the room? He was being reasonable, though he
had
gone back on the whole premise for this relationship. In the end she only nodded and tried to ignore the rabid butterflies dive-bombing her stomach.
Quinn wasn’t in love with her. He hadn’t said that at all. The man just wanted to draw out his encounter with a kink-obsessed, no-strings-attached lover. What guy
wouldn’t
want that?
When Quinn mentioned breakfast again, Lori jumped on the chance to leave this horrible subject behind.
Everything was going to be just fine. The meaningless, mind-blowing sex would continue, and no one would get hurt.
No harm, no foul.
The stolen item in her hand reminded her of just how screwed up her life was, so Lori gave more than a passing look to the yard of the garage as she headed for her front door. Everything looked fine. No further destruction had befallen the property during her night away.
She unlocked the door and pushed it open, trying to ignore the sadness of the room that greeted her. It was almost noon, but her house was dark and silent. No family or friends inside. No cheerful kitchen or bright garden awaiting her attention. Just her sad, brown couch sitting on her sad, brown carpet. Hell, even her walls were looking slightly muddy.
A redecoration was long overdue. First, she’d waited because it was her father’s home. Regardless of whether he’d be conscious of it or not, it would have been wrong to change his home around him, even if she’d had the time or money to do so.
And now that he was gone, why hadn’t she changed anything?
Lori set down her purse with a sigh. She still didn’t have any money, but that wasn’t truly the reason. She could paint, at least. Put away the bowling trophies and buy a damn slipcover for that horrendous couch. But she didn’t. Because sprucing this place up was a clear admission that she meant to stay. Making her father’s house into her own would be a declaration: this is my place in this world. This town, this house, this work is mine.
And though she was afraid to leave—even though she
couldn’t
leave—neither could she take the steps that would mean staying.
Like redecorating. Settling down. Falling in love.
Her life was in permanent limbo.
“God, I am a grade A loser,” Lori muttered, kicking off her heels. But she was a loser who’d had her world rocked the night before, and that was something.
Her cell was almost out of power, so Lori headed straight for the kitchen to plug it in, wrinkling her nose a bit at the heavy tinge of oil in the air. Another strike against her home design skills. Motor oil probably wasn’t nearly as popular a scent as vanilla or lavender. Still, if she bought some nice candles, there was the danger the whole place would blow. Even if the petroleum fumes didn’t catch fire, the ancient layers of dust might.
When she drew a deep breath, meaning to heave a loud, pitiful sigh, fumes stung her nose. “What the…” That was definitely
not
normal. Even she wouldn’t live in a house that smelled like a working refinery. Lori dropped her phone on the counter and yanked open the door to the garage office.
Thick air cascaded over her, making her cough, but the source wasn’t the office. Everything looked in place and normal. She rushed for the next door, her mind perfectly blank. The blankness stayed when she opened the door. Nothing registered. She took one step down and stopped.
Swirls of gold and black twisted across the floor of the garage, deepening to dark brown sludge near the drain. She stared for a long time before she realized that the swirls were actually liquid. Oil. One of her oil barrels had sprung a leak.
“Oh, no,” she moaned. Despair traveled up her chest and spun through her head as she looked over the damage. The horror slowed down the workings of her brain, so it took her a moment to process what her eyes told her. In fact, she was staring at an overturned barrel for quite a long time before her mind signaled alarm.
It wasn’t a leak at all. Her gaze skipped from left to right, feeding her more information. Not just one overturned barrel, but three. Both of the most popular weights of motor oil, plus the barrel that stored the used oil for recycling. All of them had been unplugged and dumped. Her gaze kept moving, touching on various things. The clogged drain, the cover of the work pit, the workings of the air pressure system, now two inches deep in oil. How was she supposed to clean this up? How was she supposed to fix this?
She took another step down, then stopped herself. The phone. Her boots. When she turned, her legs protested the weight, trembling beneath her, but she could hardly feel it. And it didn’t matter. Shaky or not, they worked, and soon enough, she’d pulled on her unlaced boots and grabbed the phone.
“I need to report an act of vandalism,” she said to the dispatcher. She gave the details she thought necessary, then hung up. Her jaw hurt, her throat burned, and further talking was simply out of the question.
She needed to get fresh air in here, and there seemed to be a relatively dry path around the far edge of the room. As her phone rang in her hand, Lori stepped down and picked her way toward the cabinets on the far wall. She was almost there, just passing the damaged air pressure system, when she got careless. She put her foot down too casually, didn’t balance it just right, and began to slide. Suddenly, her legs were in front of her.
Lori reached out, trying to catch herself as she went down, but instead she punched the bolted edge of the air tank. Her hand exploded in pain and she kept falling. A deep, fleshy thunk filled her head just before the world went cool and black and liquid around her.