Hellion, a New Adult Romance Novel(11)

 

“Quin, it’s time for dinner,” my younger sister says through the door. “Mom says come or you’re on dishes.”

 

I leap up and throw open the door, reaching for the little turd so I can torture her until she cries uncle.

 

She’s too fast for me, though, and she runs down the hall ahead of me, sounding like a herd of screaming elephants. “I’ll get you later, Shasta!” You’d never know she’s sixteen by the way she’s acting right now. Some things never change.

 

I take a deep breath in and let it out, focusing all my energy on connecting with the calm, rational part of my brain. It’s been hiding for the last couple hours, but with enough effort, I know I can make it through this meal in one piece and without committing assault or battery against any of my loved ones.

 

Putting my now frizzy hair up into an elastic, I follow my sister down the hall and into the dining room.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

 

 

 

 

I ARRIVE AT THE TABLE and find Mick sitting next to the only empty seat, the one I usually take. Acting like it’s no big deal at all, I sit down and put my napkin in my lap. I can feel the heat coming from his body near my arm and leg. Shasta and my other sister, Olympia, are busy whispering and giggling, glancing up at him every couple second. Idiots.

 

My father hands me a big bowl of rice. “So, smiley face, tell us about the doctor’s appointment.”

 

I keep my attention on the rice. Trying not to spill any of the grains helps me stay calm. “Well, let’s just say it was interesting and leave it at that.”

 

“No, let’s just have the details,” my dad says, handing me the next dish with a stack of tortillas on it.

 

“I talked to Doctor Harper Harper Harper and answered all his questions,” Jersey says. “He was nice. He’s always nice. I don’t want a rash. Clowns suck.”

 

I hand Mick the rice and his fingers brush up against mine. My heart does a flip as I try to pretend like I don’t notice how warm they are or that just being next to him is making me crazy. I swear my legs start to tremble over the idea of my skin being on his. Ugh, I hate myself.

 

“Did you see a clown at the office?” my mother asks.

 

“No. Mick has a clown face with a rash,” Jersey explains.

 

Everyone either nods or ignores him. Asking for explanations of his inner brain-workings are always an exercise in futility.

 

“So, Mick, how long have you known Quinlan?” my father asks. He uses that special father-tone in his voice that says ever so much more than his words actually do. While his mouth asks about the extent of our relationship, his tone is saying that Mick better think twice about trying any funny business with his daughter. My sisters are back to giggling.

 

I wish the floor would open up and just suck me into a giant sink-hole right now. It’s like I’m fifteen again. I hate living at home. I have to move out, like really soon. I wonder if my parents would let me take Jersey with me.

 

“Well, not very long actually. I met her at my brother’s garage the first time and then again at a club a few weeks ago where I work. And her friend Teagan is dating my brother, so I see her around.”

 

“A club, huh?” My dad has stopped serving himself. “And what kind of club would that be?”

 

“Yeah, what kind of club would that be, Quin?” asks Shasta. “A strip club?”

 

“Dad,” I drop my fork on the table, “could we not give him the third degree about my life? If you want to know what I’m doing when I’m not here, just ask me.” I don’t even going to look at my sister or acknowledge her comment. That’ll just throw gas on her teasing fire. Besides, I’m going to give her a nuclear wedgie later when Mick’s gone to straighten her out.

 

“Hey, hey, no need to get all sensitive over it. I was just asking the boy a question.”

 

Mick is looking at me; I can sense his gaze on the side of my face. But I can’t return the gesture. Our lips would be just inches apart and I’d probably do something really stupid with that kind of temptation so near.

 

“Let’s change the subject,” I suggest. “How was work?”

 

“Same old, same old…” My father goes on to detail the latest drama at the electric company where he works, and it all turns into one giant droning sound in my brain.

 

I’m casually eating a burrito, conscious of every movement Mick makes next to me. He’s not shy about digging in, a fact that’ll make my mom deliriously happy. She’s one of those people who equates food with love, which explains why my ass is almost an axe-handle wide. Thank God my actual waist is immune to caloric intake.