Quinn's Undying Rose
Page 27
“She doesn’t like him,” Rose said next to him.
“Maybe she’s just playing hard to get,” Quinn mused, wondering why Rose even bothered talking to him.
For the first time, he heard her chuckle. The sound trickled down his body like a soft caress. God, how he’d missed her laughter. How he’d missed that warm sound that could lift anyone’s spirit.
“Guess it runs in the family.”
“The playing hard to get?”
“The not being able to know what a woman wants.” She paused. “Or doesn’t want.”
Quinn reached for his glass. “Ah, that’s harsh, Rose, even for you.” Then he took a generous sip and allowed the disgusting liquid to coat his throat. At least it would help make his voice sound normal again, or so he hoped.
“And there I thought I gave you everything you could dream of that night.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And more.”
Her words cast an icy chill against his nape. “Are you referring to the baby?”
“Among other things.”
He set the glass onto the bar with too much force, making some of the liquid spill over the rim. “I pulled out!”
But even he knew that wasn’t a foolproof method of preventing conception. However, two hundred years ago, short of using French letters, it had been the only one.
She withstood his glare without flinching. But she didn’t grace him with a response. Instead she merely took her own glass and emptied it without grimacing.
“Is that why you’re so pissed at me? Because I left you with child? I would have taken care of you and our daughter if you’d given me a chance.”
Daughter—the word still sounded so foreign to him. Yet, he meant what he’d said. Had he known, things would have turned out differently.
“Having Charlotte was the only thing that ever went right in my life,” Rose admitted.
Her admission surprised him. “Then what was it that I did wrong?” The words were out before he could take them back. He knew he was showing his vulnerability by asking a question like this.
A man’s booming voice saved him from whatever comeback Rose might have had ready.
“Didn’t you hear what she said?”
Quinn’s gaze snapped toward Blake and the girl he was hitting on. Rose was right: the girl wasn’t interested in him. Behind her, a tall guy was glowering at Blake.
“She doesn’t want your attention. So beat it!” the stranger growled.
Blake glared back at him. “Don’t get in my way. This is between me and her.” He turned away from the guy and focused his attention back on the girl.
The timber of his voice changed as he smiled back at the girl again. “So, you wanna dance? I’m told I’m a pretty good dancer.”
The object of his attention rolled her eyes. “I’m not interested. Thanks.” She turned away and accepted the drink the bartender put in front of her.
“That’s ten.”
Before she could pull out her wallet, Blake put some money on the bar. “Let me get that.”
“No thanks,” she insisted.
“Oh, come on . . . it’s just a drink.” Blake unleashed a charming smile, and Quinn could see how with most women he would do well. Not, apparently, with this one.
Nor with the guy behind her, who had obviously decided to act as her protector.
“That’s it!” the protector snapped and snatched Blake by his shirt, yanking him away from the bar.
Blake’s elbow hit her cocktail glass, tipping it over. The red liquid spilled over the girl’s dress, making her scream out in frustration.
“See what you’ve done now, you jerk!” Blake shouted at his attacker.
The next second, he launched a balled fist into the guy’s face, whipping his head to the side.
“Well, great, look what your grandson is starting now,” Quinn pressed out between clenched teeth. That’s just what they needed: unwanted attention.
“Mine? He’s just as much yours. And trust me, that temper doesn’t come from my side of the family,” Rose retorted.
It took only five seconds until the two men were in the middle of a full fist fight. Left hooks alternated with uppercuts to the chin, blows to the stomach and kicks to the legs. Both sides fought neither elegantly nor fairly. And neither held back. Almost as if they both had been waiting for an outlet to get rid of long-stored-up tension and frustration.
Quinn knew enough about that, about how a fist fight could ease pain by causing pain in other parts of your body.
“Maybe she’s just playing hard to get,” Quinn mused, wondering why Rose even bothered talking to him.
For the first time, he heard her chuckle. The sound trickled down his body like a soft caress. God, how he’d missed her laughter. How he’d missed that warm sound that could lift anyone’s spirit.
“Guess it runs in the family.”
“The playing hard to get?”
“The not being able to know what a woman wants.” She paused. “Or doesn’t want.”
Quinn reached for his glass. “Ah, that’s harsh, Rose, even for you.” Then he took a generous sip and allowed the disgusting liquid to coat his throat. At least it would help make his voice sound normal again, or so he hoped.
“And there I thought I gave you everything you could dream of that night.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And more.”
Her words cast an icy chill against his nape. “Are you referring to the baby?”
“Among other things.”
He set the glass onto the bar with too much force, making some of the liquid spill over the rim. “I pulled out!”
But even he knew that wasn’t a foolproof method of preventing conception. However, two hundred years ago, short of using French letters, it had been the only one.
She withstood his glare without flinching. But she didn’t grace him with a response. Instead she merely took her own glass and emptied it without grimacing.
“Is that why you’re so pissed at me? Because I left you with child? I would have taken care of you and our daughter if you’d given me a chance.”
Daughter—the word still sounded so foreign to him. Yet, he meant what he’d said. Had he known, things would have turned out differently.
“Having Charlotte was the only thing that ever went right in my life,” Rose admitted.
Her admission surprised him. “Then what was it that I did wrong?” The words were out before he could take them back. He knew he was showing his vulnerability by asking a question like this.
A man’s booming voice saved him from whatever comeback Rose might have had ready.
“Didn’t you hear what she said?”
Quinn’s gaze snapped toward Blake and the girl he was hitting on. Rose was right: the girl wasn’t interested in him. Behind her, a tall guy was glowering at Blake.
“She doesn’t want your attention. So beat it!” the stranger growled.
Blake glared back at him. “Don’t get in my way. This is between me and her.” He turned away from the guy and focused his attention back on the girl.
The timber of his voice changed as he smiled back at the girl again. “So, you wanna dance? I’m told I’m a pretty good dancer.”
The object of his attention rolled her eyes. “I’m not interested. Thanks.” She turned away and accepted the drink the bartender put in front of her.
“That’s ten.”
Before she could pull out her wallet, Blake put some money on the bar. “Let me get that.”
“No thanks,” she insisted.
“Oh, come on . . . it’s just a drink.” Blake unleashed a charming smile, and Quinn could see how with most women he would do well. Not, apparently, with this one.
Nor with the guy behind her, who had obviously decided to act as her protector.
“That’s it!” the protector snapped and snatched Blake by his shirt, yanking him away from the bar.
Blake’s elbow hit her cocktail glass, tipping it over. The red liquid spilled over the girl’s dress, making her scream out in frustration.
“See what you’ve done now, you jerk!” Blake shouted at his attacker.
The next second, he launched a balled fist into the guy’s face, whipping his head to the side.
“Well, great, look what your grandson is starting now,” Quinn pressed out between clenched teeth. That’s just what they needed: unwanted attention.
“Mine? He’s just as much yours. And trust me, that temper doesn’t come from my side of the family,” Rose retorted.
It took only five seconds until the two men were in the middle of a full fist fight. Left hooks alternated with uppercuts to the chin, blows to the stomach and kicks to the legs. Both sides fought neither elegantly nor fairly. And neither held back. Almost as if they both had been waiting for an outlet to get rid of long-stored-up tension and frustration.
Quinn knew enough about that, about how a fist fight could ease pain by causing pain in other parts of your body.
