The Bookstore on the Beach - Brenda Novak Page 0,65
so he could take her nipple in his mouth, she felt so much pleasure she almost did it.
But then she thought of her kids—and that was like throwing a bucket of water on a fire. Drawing a deep breath, she stiffened. Then she slipped away from him so that she could retie her top before wading back to shore.
He followed, but more slowly. “I’m sorry if I spooked you,” he said, coming out of the water while she was putting on her clothes. “I told myself I wouldn’t do that. Things just seem to move a little faster at this age.”
“It wasn’t only you,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve... Anyway, it’s fine. Nothing to worry about.” She’d caught herself. That was what mattered. “I have to get back. I’m afraid my kids will be getting up soon.”
He flung his wet hair out of his face. “Can I come by the house later? Meet them?”
She tried to imagine what that would be like and couldn’t. Taylor and Caden were too smart. They’d see right through her if she claimed he was just a friend. “Not yet.”
“Maybe you could bring them to the restaurant then, and I could meet them that way. That wouldn’t be too weird, would it? We did know each other growing up.”
She couldn’t imagine having Quinn around her children. What about Nick? Wouldn’t that be disrespectful to what they’d established as a family?
In her mind, if she was going to see Quinn, she had to keep their relationship separate from her regular life, protect her children by preserving the chance to go back to the way things were, if she ever found her husband. “Maybe I can meet you here tomorrow morning. Text me if you want to do that, okay?” she said and grabbed her shoes before running barefoot down the beach.
* * *
Quinn was in the restaurant doing some food prep when Fiona Gable, who’d worked for his father since Quinn was a child, came into the kitchen.
“I have two cute kids out there who I’m pretty sure belong to Mary’s daughter,” she said. “What’s her name? Autumn?”
Fiona was talking to his father, who was busy readying the prime rib they served only on Sundays for roasting so it would be ready for the dinner rush, but Quinn couldn’t help overhearing—especially because anything to do with Autumn caught his attention.
“What are they doing here?” his father asked. “Do they want to see me?”
“Nope. They’re just here to eat.”
“By themselves? Or are they meeting their mother or grandmother?”
“I shouldn’t have said kids, I guess. They’re teenagers, plenty old enough to be at a restaurant on their own. I get the impression the boy is trying to take his sister out. He’s being really sweet with her. But I heard him tell her he could only afford to get them each a bowl of soup and thought, with everything their mother is doing to raise money for us, you wouldn’t mind if I gave them a little something extra to eat.”
Raise money for us. Fiona had worked for his father for so long she was part of the family—like an aunt to him.
“Of course,” Mike said. “Our crab sandwich is good. Maybe they’d like one of those.”
“Maybe for the boy, but his sister doesn’t care for seafood. She said something about it when she ordered the potato soup. I’ll take her the pecan and blue cheese chopped salad, along with the soup.”
“Sounds good to me,” Mike said. “They might like the artichoke dip with corn chips, too.”
“Good idea,” she said.
“Here, I’ll get it all ready and take it out,” Quinn volunteered.
Fiona’s eyebrows, which she painted on to match the stark black color she dyed her shoulder-length hair, slid up as she looked over at him. “You’re going to wait on my table?”
“If you don’t mind. Autumn and I were friends in high school,” he explained. “I’d like to meet her kids.”
His father watched as Quinn filled a plate with the chopped salad he’d made and put in the fridge not twenty minutes earlier. “They say the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” Mike said. “For a woman, I’d have to say it’s through her children, if she already has some. Smart move.”
Folding her arms across her ample bosom, Fiona fluttered her fake eyelashes at him. “So our boy has finally found someone he’d like to date? This is a romantic interest we’re talking about?”