Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck #8) - Emilia Finn Page 0,131
skill, her ability. They’re going to lose out on something magical, and they won’t even know it, because she’s spent her entire life in the shadows.
Around five o’clock, with her hand in mine, but her smile for her brother, we head back to my truck and squish onto the single bench seat. Quinn sits in the middle for the short drive home, and Giselle – royally pissed – sits in the back and hates every second of it.
It’s too common for her, too undignified. But she holds her head high the entire trip, and as soon as we arrive home and I offer her a treat from the fridge, she lets go of her grudge and leans against my thigh like she always does.
Since the Checkmate guys already ate tonight’s dinner, I go to my freezer and search for something else, while Quinn sits at the counter, and Will wanders around the house for a bit. When I find what I’m looking for, I snag a couple servings out of the freezer and toss chicken breast into the microwave to defrost.
“I’m gonna make chicken for dinner,” I tell Will when he comes back into the kitchen. “It’ll be ready in about an hour.”
“I’m not gonna be here to eat.” He stops behind Quinn, and holds her shoulders when she predictably startles and tries to turn and glare at him. He drops a kiss on the crown of her head, but his eyes are on me. “You guys can have a quiet dinner together, and I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“You promise you’ll be back?” Quinn fights his hold and manages to look over her shoulder so their eyes meet. “You swear?”
He smiles. “I swear. I’m not running, Bubbles. I just wanna head into town for a bit and chill out. I might head to the lake and meditate or some shit.”
Quinn scoffs. “Meditate my ass. Looking for a certain raven-haired woman? It’s been awhile since we’ve thought about her.”
“If by a while, you mean an hour,” Will grins. “Then yep, it’s been a while. I’m heading out to see what I see.”
“She’s a cop’s daughter,” Quinn singsongs. “And a fighter’s sister.”
“And her mom has a tendency to shoot people,” I add when I realize who they’re talking about. “I’m not saying you can’t go there. But if you do, it would be best if you run in zigzags.”
He chuckles and presses a second kiss to Quinn’s brow. “I’ll be back later. Be good.” He points at me, and adopts that big-brother persona from years ago. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
I lift my hands in fake surrender, and say nothing. I only smile and watch as he snags the keys to the rental from the hook by the door, and winks for Quinn on his way out.
“I think… maybe…” She angles her neck toward the living room, toward the front door, and doesn’t look back until headlights shine through the windows at the front of my house. “I think he just gave us permission to fuck.”
And there it is.
My cock swells, and my throat turns dry. “You have such a beautiful way with words, Q. I swear.” I press a hand to my heart. “Such romance.”
She snorts. “Sorry, my mistake. What I meant to say was, I think he’s just given us space to make sweet, slow, beautiful love in your bed. With multiple orgasms, and maybe a little touching of the butt.”
Standing from the stool, and making herself at home, she wanders around to my fridge and looks inside for a long moment. The microwave beeps, but we ignore it. Reaching into the fridge, she comes out again with two bottles of beer.
“Wanna get drunk with me?”
“Drunk on beer?” I chuckle. “Gross.”
“You want the vodka, then?” She opens all of my cupboards in search of hard liquor. “Where do you keep the good stuff?”
“I don’t.”
I take the chicken from the microwave, then I move to the pantry and stand right behind Quinn while we each search for the things we want. She wants booze, I want flour, garlic, salt, oil, a few others. Feeling brave, I drop a biting kiss on her neck, and when she hisses, I move to the fridge and grab eggs.
“I don’t drink to get drunk, Q. The idea of getting messy and then puking it up later doesn’t sound all that appealing. Instead, I keep beer in the fridge, and have just one or two to zone the fuck out.”