“What’s all this?” she asked, looking at his laden tray.
He passed her a mug of warm milk. “My mom used to heat me a cup of moo juice whenever I got upset.”
She cupped the ceramic mug between her hands, hoping the heat might loosen some of her body’s tension, and took a tentative sip. “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you.”
He held up a book. “The other night, I noticed how you read to your dad, thought maybe you’d like someone to read to you for once?”
She stared at the woman in the Regency dress on the cover, her brain trying to register the image. “Sense and Sensibility? You want to read me Jane Austen?”
He set down the tray on the nightstand and picked up the book with a trace of uncertainty. “It was on my list, and when I went into your shop today after going to Haute Coffee, the woman working there said that you like this author.”
“Jane is life. I love her.”
His chest heaved a little bit. “This is good then?” He sat down on the bed, grabbed the soft throw blanket on the end, and shook it over her lap.
“A cup of warm milk on an almost winter’s day? Cake in bed? A hot guy offering to read me Jane Austen after mind-blowing oral pleasure? I don’t think good can hold a candle to what’s inside me.”
He opened the book and flipped through the soft, creamy paper, a shy smile tugging the corner of his mouth. He paused, but not for long. “Chapter One.”
For the next hour he read in a low, methodical voice about the two sisters, Marianne and Elinor, and their life in Sussex and Devonshire.
Finally, he closed it and placed it on her nightstand. “We can do more in a bit.”
A chill licked up her spine as the pleasantries of the eighteenth century receded. Reality could only be held at bay for so long. “You want to know what’s going on with me, don’t you?”
The silence between them grew taut, vibrating as if someone plucked an invisible string. “If you care to make it my business, maybe I can help in some way.”
She shifted the dirty dishes to the night table and twisted her hair into a quick, messy braid. Her stomach muscles clenched as an unseen weight settled on her shoulders. “You know how my dad is sick?”
“Alzheimer’s.”
She nodded. “Exactly. Well, it looks like his mother might have had the same thing. I can’t say for certain before that, but one of my great-grandparents must have too, and so on.” She was afraid to squeeze her eyes shut but the idea of looking at him scared her half to death. “Do you see what I’m saying?”
He blinked. “Not quite.”
“This disease is genetic,” she whispered. “Early-onset Alzheimer’s disease runs in families. There is a fifty-fifty chance of a child getting it from an affected parent.”
He made an indecipherable noise. “So you’re saying you might have it?”
“I took a blood test today that’s going to tell me which way the chips are going to fall. I had to know. I really thought for a while I wouldn’t want to, that whatever will be will be and all that, but that’s not me. I needed to have certainty, one way or another.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “When will you get the results?”
“In a few weeks. If I’m negative that’s the end of the story. My kids won’t carry it either. I’m my dad’s only child so no other siblings would be at risk. If I am positive then . . . I’m twenty-five now, maybe I’ll have another twenty-five good years to go before things unravel. And that’s something, right? There are people who have a lot less than that.”
She dug her fists into her eyes as tears prickled. “I’m sorry. I’m trying my best to look on the bright side and everything, but the truth is I’m scared out of my mind.”
He put his arm around her shoulders, cradling her close. “You don’t have to do this walk alone.”
“Don’t you see? I can’t share this journey with anyone. If it goes bad, it’s better if I’m the only one affected.”
He looked a little sick. “Quinn, I—”
“Please.” She laced her fingers with his. “If this doesn’t go in my favor, please, promise me one thing.”
“Anything.” His words held a quiet intensity. This wasn’t a man who made promises lightly.
“That you’ll leave me alone.”
He froze. “I can’t do that.”
“I’m serious,” she persisted, suddenly too hot, too cold, too everything. “This isn’t a pity party. I’m being entirely selfish. I’d rather have a memory of these few sweet stolen moments. One truly happy time. How many people get this lucky? Please, don’t make me beg. It’s what I want.” She hoped the lie sounded convincing.
“I promise.”
At least more convincing than his.
But she pretended to believe him, at least for now. “Thank you.”
There was the sound of wheels disturbing the gravel in the driveway, and then a loud motorcycle engine cutting off. Quinn wrinkled her brow as someone knocked on the door. “I haven’t had hardly any visitors since moving in, and now twice in one day.”
She got up from bed, aware Wilder followed behind. She sensed she hurt him by extracting that promise but he was only just starting to get his life on track and she wouldn’t ask for it to be destabilized because of her.
She opened the door and her heart dropped a good few inches. “Garret, what on earth are you doing here?”
“Surprise, surprise, pretty lady.” He grinned, stepping in uninvited and raising a six-pack. His cocky smile slipped at the sight of Wilder lurking behind her.
“Kane? Got to say I didn’t expect to see you.”
“King.” Wilder spit the word like a curse.
A mixture of feelings coursed over Garret’s Ken-doll features. Everything from annoyance to anger to fear. He was a big guy, but Wilder still had an advantage.
“You two know each other, right?” Quinn asked with forced cheer. She didn’t want to become an unofficial ref in an amateur boxing match.
Garret tried to recover his easygoing attitude. “We went to school together, didn’t we, buddy?”
Wilder said nothing.
“Graduated same year, at least I did. Not sure about this lug.” Garret looked friendly enough but his words held a prodding note.
“Oh. Okay.” It didn’t take extra-honed Spidey senses to tell these two weren’t the best of friends. They stared at each other with a subtle snarl to their gaze.
“I wasn’t expecting you.” Quinn wavered, unsure whether to move to the couches or remain standing. It was one thing to annoy her at work or around town. It was a whole other thing to show up unannounced on her front doorstep.
“What can I say, I like to amaze the ladies.” He took advantage of her indecision and sprawled into her love seat. “Hey, grab a seat, man,” he said to Wilder, gesturing to a chair across the room as if he had every right to be here. “Be good to catch up.”
“Thanks, I’ll stand.”
“Bummer about the leg, huh? I heard about that shit in Montana.” Before Wilder or she could say more, he’d barreled on. “Oh, and I hung with your brother’s woman today. Kooky Carson’s kid, Annie. She grew up to be pretty thing, didn’t she? She’s doing a story for the paper on the fires, wanted an interview.”
“The fires?” Wilder echoed, soft but with an edge of menace.
Quinn glimpsed the other Wilder, the dangerously unpredictable one who made his brothers skittish, even as adults. The Wilder with a feral edge.
“Yeah, there’ve been a few lately. I and the volunteer force are on top of it. You’ll see it in the Sunday paper. Big hero profile.” He rubbed his chest in satisfaction.
“That’s really something,” she said, picking up his six-pack and handing it over. “Um. Thanks for stopping by but I’ve got some jobs to do.”
“Oh. Sure. So what time can I pick you up tomorrow?”
Her brow knit. “For what?”
“Dinner.” His smile was so wide he exposed a bunch of gum. “You promised me a date at The Dirty Shame.”
From the corner of her eye she saw Wilder stiffen. “No, sorry, I did no such thing.”
Wilder made a warning rumble in the back of his throat. “Sounds like she’s pretty damn clear, Garret.”