Tyler lay next to her on a fleece beach blanket he’d fetched from the truck. “Well, you said you were cold.”
The fire stretched over six feet high, whipping in the breeze. Tiny gas lamps glowed across the bay; this probably looked like a distress beacon. “Won’t someone see it?”
Tyler snorted. “You say that like I’d care.” He held out a paper bag. “You want the other pretzel?”
Quinn hugged her hands to her stomach. She was still hungry, but she should probably be chewing on a lettuce leaf. “Nah.”
“Come on. Don’t make me throw it out for the gulls.”
“If you insist.” She took the bag and tore off a stretch of pretzel. Butter and salt and heaven.
They’d been out here on this deserted stretch of beach for fifteen minutes, and she’d been sure the beach-fire-blanket combo was nothing more than a play to get into her pants. Nick’s words about Tyler using her to get at him kept bouncing around in her head.
But Tyler hadn’t made a move toward her. Even now, he left a clear five feet of space between them, just like last night on the roof of his shopping center.
Take that, Nick.
He’d bought her pretzels as promised, then walked a few laps of the mall at her side, only asking if she wanted to go for a drive when stores began unrolling their security gates. His anger from yesterday seemed to have faded, his violence from the first night completely gone.
But fury and aggression hid there, just below the surface.
He is not nice, Quinn.
She knew that. Tyler was like an attack dog who’d failed out of doggie school. He might eat treats out of your hand and wag his tail, but if you made the wrong move, he’d bite your hand off and come back for the other one.
It was kinda terrifying.
And kinda sexy.
“What?” he said.
Quinn didn’t look away. Why bother? He’d already caught her staring. “I was thinking you’re kind of hot when you’re not being a total dickhead.”
He let out a low whistle and looked back at the sky. “Turn a guy’s head with talk like that.”
She expected him to see that as some kind of invitation, but he didn’t move.
After a moment, his voice dropped and he said, “Thanks.” He paused. “You’re not breaking any mirrors yourself.”
But he still didn’t move.
It thrilled her and exasperated her at the same time. Like last night, when he’d dropped that line about Nick being one lucky bastard.
Either he’s not using me or he’s not interested.
It made her want to provoke him. “I thought I was enough to turn you off from sex forever.”
Now he turned his head and looked over. The fire turned his blond hair gold and bounced off his eyes. “That had more to do with Merrick than with you.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means I said that to get under his skin. You could look like a supermodel and I would have said you were a total turnoff.”
“Hmph. Nick would say any girl was a turnoff.”
As soon as the words were out, she wished she could suck them back into her mouth.
Tyler went still.
Oh, crap.
Oh, crap.
Take it back take it back take it back.
But she didn’t know what to say. She needed to undo this. She needed to undo this right now. She’d kept this secret from everyone who was important to Nick, and now she’d practically told his mortal enemy.
She had no idea what to say to change the course of this conversation.
Haha, just a joke. Look! A bird!
Sure.
“That’s interesting,” Tyler finally said. He sat up and pulled a cigarette from the pack in his back pocket. “Very interesting.”
She needed a rewind button. A time machine. Something. She’d give anything to be back at the dance studio, falling on her face in front of Adam’s perfection. Anything.
She sat up on her heels. Could she beg him to keep it a secret? Would that be better or worse than pretending it wasn’t a secret at all?
“So you’re not really his girlfriend,” said Tyler.
And what was she supposed to say to that? Here she was sitting with a guy she was attracted to, and she was going to have to pretend to be madly in love with Nick, just to keep a stupid secret.
But Tyler looked over, and she could read it on his face. He knew.
Her voice was soft, almost lost in the sound of the surf. “No. Not really.”
He started to move the cigarette to his lips, but then he flung it into the fire, unlit. His expression was fierce, all angles lit by the flames. He shifted on the blanket like he was going to leave.
Was he going after Nick? Was he going to take this information and pick a fight, or use it against his brothers somehow? Or was he—
Tyler took her face in his hands and pressed his lips against hers.
Quinn stiffened in surprise—then yielded. He was rough and forceful, but in all the right ways. She’d kissed a lot of boys, but Tyler kissed like a man. No hesitation, no fumbling. First, his mouth, hot and searing and making her feel things low in her belly. Then his hands, finding her waist, pushing her down on the blanket. Then his tongue, pulling at hers.
His body felt secure against her, and his arms caged her there on the blanket. When he drew back to look at her, she wanted to grab his shirt and drag him back down.
But then she remembered what she’d just said.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” she whispered.
“Tell anyone what?”
“About Nick.”
He straightened his arms, pushing himself up until she missed his weight. “Nice,” he said with clear derision. The fire whipped higher behind him. “I kiss you, and you’re still thinking about that stupid f—”
Quinn slapped him. Hard, with all the passion of their kiss and her panic behind it. “Don’t you dare call him that.”
Tyler caught her arm and pinned it to the blanket. He got in her face. “Don’t you dare hit me. I was going to call him a stupid fuck.”
Oh. It wasn’t better, but somehow, it was.
She looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”
“For what.” He said it flatly, not even a question. He didn’t even wait for an answer, just moved off her to sit back on the blanket and stare at the fire.
She sat up next to him.
Talking about Nick seemed like a minefield, but all she could think about was how badly she’d derailed this entire evening. For everyone.
She wanted to touch Tyler—but she didn’t.
“Why did you kiss me?” she whispered.
He had another cigarette between his fingers, twirling it across his knuckles like a miniature baton. He mused for so long that she wanted to throw it into the fire after the first one.
Then he said, “Because I wanted to.”
“No,” she said. “Why did you kiss me now? After you knew about Nick?”
He looked at her. “Because I could.”
She licked her lips, tasting smoke from the fire. “I don’t understand.”
He looked back at the flames. “I could have screwed with you to mess with him. I thought about it. Last night.” He shrugged it off and looked at her. “I didn’t want to do that.”
Quinn couldn’t decide if she’d destroyed everything, or if she’d cleared a path for something to grow.
Tyler looked at her. “Why were you sitting behind the 7-Eleven Monday night?” She opened her mouth, and he gave her a hard look. “The truth.”
She hadn’t even told Nick the truth.
When it got right down to it, she didn’t even want to admit it to herself.
Quinn stared right back into his eyes and made her voice as challenging as his was. “Because my mom drinks like a fish and it turns her into a crazy bitch.”
He studied her for a long second. “Is that all?”
He didn’t say it like it wasn’t en
ough of a reason to be upset. He said it like he knew that it wasn’t a complete answer, like he knew there was more behind it.
Quinn shook her head. “I have to wait until she passes out or falls asleep if I want to go home. Otherwise she’ll start screaming at me.”
“She hit you, too?”
Quinn shook her head.
Tyler didn’t believe her. “So she wasn’t the one to knock you around the other night?”
Quinn looked at the sand. “She’s slapped me before, but she’s never left a mark.”
“I know you said Nick didn’t hit you. Who did?”
“Would you just smoke another cigarette or something—”
“Jesus, you’re hardheaded. Answer the question.”
“My brother.”
She felt Tyler draw himself up, and she peeked over at him. The look of fury on his face was almost terrifying, and she was glad she wasn’t the target.
“What happened?” he said.
“It’s nothing—”
“Shut the fuck up about it’s nothing. What happened?”
Her mother had defended Jake for so long that Quinn was shocked to hear someone act like her brother’s actions were not okay. “He’s home from college. He keeps smoking pot in my room. He has his friends there all the time. The other night, he slammed my face into the wall because he thought I stole his money or his stash.” Her voice started to break, and she kept talking fast, as if fractured words would hold off tears. “I can’t even get my clothes out of there to crash somewhere else, because his friends think I’m fresh meat. They keep touching me, and I can’t—I can’t even—”
She stopped short. Tyler was standing, pulling her to her feet, picking up the blanket to shake it free of sand.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m driving you home to get your stuff.”
“You’re—what? Why?”
“Because I can. Because I have an apartment, and you look like you could do with eight hours of sleep. Because—”
“You expect me to stay with you? But—”
“But what? You have a dozen better offers? Get in the truck.”
She got in the truck. They were a mile down the road and he hadn’t said anything else when she finally turned to him. “Because what else?”
He looked at her like she was nuts. “What?”
“You said because, and I cut you off. Why are you doing this?”
His voice dropped. “You don’t have to stay with me. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was kidnapping you.”
“Shut up. You’re not making me do anything.”
He snorted and rubbed his cheek. “No kidding.”
“Shut up! Because what else?”
He looked away from the road long enough to meet her eyes. “Because I like you.”
“No one has ever done anything like that for me,” she said.
Not Becca. Not Nick.
You didn’t tell them, her brain whispered.
But they’d never pushed as hard as Tyler.
“Well,” said Tyler, “maybe it’s time someone should.”
CHAPTER 14
Quinn stopped Tyler in front of her apartment door. Her older brother’s car was in the parking lot—of course—so she slid her key into the deadbolt carefully.
“Worried you’re going to wake someone up?” said Tyler.
“No,” she said, too forcefully. She was worried someone would hear her and make this worse than it needed to be.
She’d never brought anyone home to this apartment. She and Becca had hardly seen each other since the fire, and when they did, it was always at Becca’s place or the Merrick house. When Nick drove her home, she never let him get farther than the apartment landing. She didn’t want anyone to smell the pot or the alcohol. Even now, outside the door, embarrassment sent heat coursing up her neck. What if Tyler saw her mother stumbling around in a nightgown? What if the shrieking started and Quinn couldn’t get her to shut up?
She looked at Tyler and put a hand up. “Just wait here.”
For an instant, she was ready for Tyler to refuse.
But then he shrugged and said, “Okay,” and she realized she’d been hoping he would refuse.
The lock gave and she was through the door. She closed it gently, quietly, leaving it unlocked to spare her one extra second if she needed to get out fast.
This was ridiculous, creeping into her own house. Back before the fire, when she’d lived around the corner from Becca, everything had been on the ground level, and she hadn’t needed to pass anyone to get in and out of her room. The window had worked fine for that. And while their house had never been large, everyone had their own room.
This bullshit with Jake was infuriating.
Even now, the living room was empty and dim. Her mother must have been in the bedroom, or hell, maybe she’d gone out, too. But Quinn could see light beneath her own bedroom door. She could hear them in there—but barely, with the racket her heart was kicking up.
She wanted to turn and run through the door and tell Tyler all her clothes had been stolen.
And then what would she do? Go back to his place with her dance shorts and her worn fleece pullover? Wear that to school?
She hated that her life had devolved to the point where she had to choose the lesser of two evils.
But . . . maybe Tyler wasn’t evil at all. She still couldn’t tell. The kiss, the admission that he’d wanted to ensure she was free before making a move . . . she couldn’t wrap her head around it.
God, she was stalling. Ridiculous. She needed her stuff and she was going to walk in there and get it. She straightened her spine, stalked over to her bedroom door, and threw it open.
The room smelled acrid and foul. She stumbled back. Jake sat on the floor with three of his friends. They all looked up when she entered.
Two guys looked dazed and confused. She’d never seen them before. Heavy-lidded and slack-jawed, they were leaning up against her bed like they had no intention of moving. Ever.
The other guy, sitting next to Jake, looked interested, and not in a good way. In a don’t-touch-me-you-creep way. He also looked filthy, like he hadn’t showered in three days. Lank dark hair clung to his forehead, and he wore a tank top and shorts despite the fact that it was getting below freezing at night. A glass pipe sat in his hands.
Nice.
Jake got to his feet, a little unsteadily. He was tall and lanky and muscled, befitting a star basketball player. But whereas he’d once been quite a looker with blue eyes and that shock of blond hair, now he looked drawn and washed out. His eyes were bloodshot. And paranoid. “Get the fuck out of here, Quinn.”
“I just want my stuff,” she said.
Greasy tank top snorted. “She’s cute, J, where’ve you been hiding her?”
She expected his voice to be lazy and drawling, to match the boys who could barely hold themselves upright, but it wasn’t. His tone was too interested. Too alert. It made her skin crawl.
Quinn wanted to step past them, to grab clothes from her dresser, but she remembered the last time she’d run into one of Jake’s friends, and she kept her distance.
“Get out of here,” said Jake. He took a step toward her and grabbed her arm. “You hear me? Quit messing with me.”
She jerked free. “I’m not messing with you!” she snapped. “I haven’t even been here!”
He came after her. “Look, you—”
She ducked under his arm and slid through the doorway into her room. Jake grunted, and she half expected him to grab her, but judging by the racket he made, he must have stumbled into the doorjamb. She made it past his friends and flung open a dresser drawer. “Just let me get my stuff. Then you can keep smoking pot until your lungs burn out.”
“That’s not pot.”
Tyler’s voice. Quinn spun.
He’d caught Jake’s arm and twisted it behind him, and just now had him pinned up against the wall.
Her brother was struggl
ing, but though he was tall, Tyler had the advantage in mass.
Tyler gave her a look. “Hurry up, huh?”
Quinn hustled.
Greasy boy took all this in stride, his sharp eyes watching everything. “Is that Tyler Morgan?” he said. “Dude, I didn’t know this was your scene.”
“It’s not,” said Tyler. His voice was even, as if Jake wasn’t trying to buck his hold.
Quinn flung clothes into her backpack without looking. Her heart was in her throat. Jake was cursing at Tyler now. Tall-dark-and-sinister was flicking a lighter, but he couldn’t seem to get it to spark.
She had no idea whether this was going better or worse than if Tyler hadn’t intervened.
The bag wouldn’t hold any more, and she jerked at the zipper.
“Get the keys out of my pocket,” said Tyler. “Go down and start the truck.”
The dark-haired boy flicked the lighter again. Still no flame. “Sure you don’t want to stay, sweet thing?”
“I’m worried I might puke on you,” said Quinn. It took everything she had not to kick him in the face.
Especially since he grabbed her ass when she skittered by him.
She whirled, her hand balled into a fist.
“Go,” said Tyler. “Ignore him.”
“I’m going to fuck you up,” Jake wheezed. “You think you’re so—”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Tyler. “Quinn. The keys.”
His body was tighter than a bow string, taut and rigid as he held her brother against the wall. Quinn had to get close to fish the keys from his pocket. This felt too intimate, sliding her hand along the front of his hip, searching for a metal ring.
Then the keys were in her fingers.
“Go,” said Tyler. “I’ll be down in a second.”
“The hell you will,” Jake snapped.
Quinn hesitated. That lighter kept flicking, never finding a flame.
Tyler glanced over his shoulder. “Go on,” he said, and for the first time, she heard a breath of strain in his voice. She saw the warning in his eyes. This could unravel in a real hurry. “Don’t stop. Start the truck.”
She ran. Halfway down the stairs, she heard them start to fight. Someone was yelling. Then a woman was shrieking.