Quinn opened the rear passenger door and said, “Get in.”
Too flustered to question him, I climbed into the back seat and placed the basket and blanket on the bench beside me, settling myself in the middle. Quinn came in after me, slammed the door, and I immediately heard the door lock. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the cab. I glanced at Quinn, his leg was pressed against mine as he twisted in his seat and peered out the window as though he were looking for someone.
The car started to move and I sought out the identity of our driver. All I could see was the back of his head and the impressive size of his neck. It wasn’t Vincent unless Vincent had grown a foot and a half, digressed in age thirty years, and become an African American overnight. My attention was pulled back to Quinn as he settled his hand on my thigh and squeezed.
He was studying me with a guarded suspicion. I could only look at him with wide eyed confusion. I didn’t understand what had just happened. I didn’t understand why the man in the park looked at me with such a sinister expression. I didn’t understand why Quinn felt the need to go above and beyond with medieval threats. I didn’t understand why we ran out of the park like we were being pursued. I was at a complete loss.
My chin may have wobbled.
Quinn must have caught the movement because he moved his arm around my shoulders and pulled me to his chest. I wasn’t in any danger of crying but I didn’t push his comfort away. It felt good to be wrapped in his arms so I allowed myself to rest there, absorbed by the strength of him. He set his chin on my head and I felt him sigh.
“Do you know that guy?” I asked, my voice sounding remarkably small in the big car.
He stiffened, “No.” his hand slid from my shoulder to my hip, pulling me closer. Then he said, “I don’t know. He looked familiar.”
I lifted my head from his chest so I could look in his eyes, “Is he one of the private clients?”
Quinn shook his head, his eyes flickering briefly to the driver then back to me, “No. Definitely not… No, he looks like someone I used to know...”
“Oh.”
His thumb stroked my hip and his eyes traveled searchingly over my face, “Are you ok? Did he hurt you?” Quinn’s voice was rough.
“No. No, he just startled me.” I licked my lips, “He was probably just some stranger and, remember, I bumped into him so… no big deal.”
He nodded but I could tell he wasn’t convinced. I placed my hand on his chest and he covered it with his own, moving it to his heart. It was beating rapidly. He cleared his throat, “Do you- uh- want to go home?”
I gave him a small smile, “Home?”
He shook his head and said, “You should probably get home.”
A dark cloud of disappointment settled over my forehead. I wasn’t ready for the night to be over. I didn’t understand why my clumsy encounter meant our evening had to end.
“What are my options?” I looked at our entwined hands covering his heart then I licked my lips as my eyes moved to his mouth.
“Home.” He said the word firmly.
My gaze met his and found him regarding me with a paradoxical heated stoicism; dually pushing me away and crushing me close. Something possessed me, call it wonton woman instinct, and I pressed myself to him; I felt him stiffen. I slid my body upwards, crushing my chest against his; I felt his breath hitch. My leg moved between his and I lifted my mouth to his neck then his ear and whispered, hoping the words didn’t come out clumsily and awkward, “I’m hungry.”
Another ragged sigh escaped him, similar in tenor to the one in the park, his hand moving again to my thigh where my dress had hitched upward baring my leg. He rested it there, the palm of his hand warming my skin, for a hesitating second before he pulled the hem of my skirt down to cover my knee and shifted away from me on the seat. I felt the loss of his warmth acutely as he disentangled our limbs.
Quinn leaned forward slightly toward the driver, “We need to take Ms. Morris home.”
I watched him; at first surprised then, eventually, with the understanding of stinging rejection ringing in my ears. A scarlet so deep I felt in danger of being consumed by embarrassed incineration wound its way up my neck to my cheeks and the tip of my ears. I crossed my arms over my chest and angled my knees away from him as he settled back next to me.
We sat in silence for a brief moment and I could hear the whooshing of the blood through my heart and between my ears. My brain was overtaken by a dramacoaster of adolescent self-doubt- which I embraced as fact: I am never going to be that girl. It just isn’t in me to be sexy and seductive.
As we approached my building I pulled my bag from the picnic basket. Quinn surprised me by brushing unruly curls from my shoulder. I turned to look at him; he was holding my glasses out between us.