At First Touch (15 page)

“W
ell, well, well. Look at what the Porsche dragged in.”

Quinn ignored Kendra's snide comment as she climbed from Graham's Porsche late the next morning. She slammed the car door and walked towards the front porch, where Kendra was dangling on the porch frame between pull-up sets.

Quinn collapsed onto one of the wicker chairs on the porch and set her handbag on the ground. She continued to ignore Kendra as she sniffed the bright red tulip that Wyatt had given her before she had left. He had kissed her at the same time he had handed her the tulip. The kiss had turned into a much longer kiss that had made her leave his apartment an hour later than she had intended. And she had loved every second of it. His hands mapping her body, his eyes hot on hers, his mouth claiming hers with a sense of ownership she had never thought she would allow anyone to have over her.

“Earth to Quinn,” Kendra snapped. “You look like shit and you're dehydrated. It must have been quite a night, you little slut.”

Quinn snapped from the replay of that morning and suddenly realized that it was cold and she was sitting on the porch in a minidress. She grabbed Kendra's discarded sweatshirt from the ground and slipped it on, then drained a nearby water bottle in one gulp. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

She focused on Kendra, or, more accurately, on Kendra's body. Kendra wore a pair of shorts that gave the term
short shorts
a new meaning and a barely-there sports bra, without any regard for the cold weather. On any other woman, there would have been cellulite or jiggle or something to show that the woman was real. On Kendra it was all muscle and smooth dark brown skin. There would be no need for touch-ups or special lighting for Kendra.

“You're such a ray of sunshine in the morning,” Quinn noted lightly.

“I've been told that once or twice.”

“Where's Charlie?” Quinn asked.

“She and Graham went shopping for more tinsel or something. All I know is that I don't have to watch their coochie coo anymore. How do you live with them? They are downright sickening,” Kendra grunted through clenched teeth, as each visible muscle strained from another pull-up that would have made a lesser man cry.

“I don't live with them. I live in the poolhouse.”

“Semantics, Quinn.”

“As soon as this movie comes out, I'll find—”

“You're doing an indie movie, Quinn. Didn't you have to pay them to put you in?”

Quinn narrowed her eyes at Kendra. She leaned back in the chair and asked sweetly, “Kendra, I'm curious about something, too. Are you trying to look like a man, or does it just come naturally?”

Kendra dropped to the porch step, her chest heaving. She wiped her face with a nearby towel and frowned at the empty water bottle.

“You should try exercise sometime, Quinn. Then maybe you wouldn't have to use the eat-and-barf method to remain thin.”

“I am not bulimic.”

“Then that explains the new set of love handles that have filled in.”

“And do the steroids explain the distinct Adam's apple I see developing?”

Kendra rolled her eyes, then she stood to stretch her arms overhead. “Are you going to tell me what happened last night and how you managed to miss the hoe-down here, or do you want to exchange some more insults?”

“I think I'd rather exchange insults with you all day than talk about something that special with you,” Quinn shot back.

Kendra rolled her eyes then performed some complicated stretch that brought her right ankle to her right ear. “Quinn, I can tell that you're on the verge of bursting to tell someone, anyone, what happened to you last night. So just tell me what's wrong before I get really pissed off.”

Quinn stared at her sister for a moment, then couldn't prevent the grin that crossed her face. Kendra dropped into the chair next to Quinn and stared at her hard. “It was amazing,” Kendra guessed.

“More than anything that has ever been hinted at in Sephora's scenes with the one true love of her life, Blake Banks,” Quinn gushed, turning in her seat to face Kendra. “He was patient, gentle, funny. He made me feel beautiful and wanted me, not just for my body but for me. I've never felt that way in my life.”

Kendra actually laughed, and for a moment Quinn was shaken from her own reverie to realize how beautiful Kendra was when she smiled.

“You are completely whipped,” Kendra said, shaking her head, amused.

“Completely,” Quinn agreed.

“So does this mean that your mission was successful? The movie will be filmed in the house?” Kendra asked, her perpetual frown returning.

Quinn's smile faded. She averted her gaze and murmured, “Yes.”

“Then you won the bet.”

She glared her sister. “Last night was not about that. Why would you say that?”

“That's not what you told me yesterday.”

“What are you saying, Kendra?”

“I'm not saying anything, except what everyone will think. Quinn Sibley stops at nothing to get what she wants.”

She jumped to her feet. “Last night with Wyatt had nothing to do with the movie.”

“If it didn't, why are you getting so angry?”

“I knew I shouldn't have talked to you about this. Go to hell,” she shot back, then stormed toward the front door.

“By the way,” Kendra called after her, “Helmut called. He wants to know your progress. He didn't not sound happy. I won't even tell you his exact message because it involved a few words that are not fit for your young, impressionable ears.”

Quinn didn't acknowledge her sister and climbed up the stairs to her bedroom. She slammed the door closed and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She did not like what she saw.

 

“You look like a man who could use a lunch break.”

Wyatt looked over his shoulder into the sun to see Graham standing over him. Wyatt pushed back the bill of his baseball cap and brushed his hands on his jeans. After leaving Quinn that morning, he had headed straight to city hall to replant the carnations lining the sidewalk. He hadn't been able to stop smiling. And he couldn't wait for the day to be over so he could see Quinn again and give himself even more reasons to smile.

“You buying?” Wyatt asked squinting at Graham.

“Haven't I been buying since we were fifteen?”

“I usually buy the beer,” Wyatt said, defensively.

By mutual consent, the two walked toward Annie's Diner. Wyatt washed his hands in the bathroom, resisted the urge to call Quinn just to hear her voice, then joined Graham at their favorite booth at the front of the restaurant.

“So you know why I'm eating lunch with you, instead of cuddling with my wife in front of the fireplace at home,” Graham said with a long sigh.

Wyatt bit his lower lip to prevent the laughter. “Quinn,” he said simply.

“If this is what fatherhood is going to be like, I think I can wait another ten or twenty years,” Graham muttered. “So, tell me that you don't have any nefarious plans for Quinn and I can face my wife with a clear conscience.”

“You can face your wife with a clear conscience. I don't have any nefarious plans for Quinn.” Then he hid his smile because he didn't think that Graham would want to hear about the plans that he did have for Quinn, which involved her naked in his bed and, maybe, whipped cream.

“Great,” Graham said, relieved.

Annie walked over to the table and actually smiled at Wyatt. Wyatt had been coming to Annie's Diner his entire life, and Annie had never actually smiled at him. “Wyatt, you are quite the stud, aren't you?” she said, laughing.

Wyatt exchanged glances with Graham, who coughed over his laughter. Wyatt turned back to Annie. “Excuse me?”

“I heard that Quinn went to your house last night and didn't leave until late this morning. You've been holding out on us all these years, haven't you? I knew you weren't the Boy Scout your mother always claimed.” She laughed loudly, then said, “Two house specials for you boys, my treat, in honor of Little Granger here finally getting some.”

Annie walked away, still laughing to herself, while Wyatt sunk lower in his seat to avoid stares from the other diners.

“Annie just congratulated you on getting laid,” Graham noted.

“I caught that,” Wyatt muttered.

“I don't know whether to laugh with you or cry with you.”

Wyatt hid his own laughter, then shrugged. “At least, we get lunch on the house.”

Graham shook his head amused then muttered, “Living in a town like this, I now understand why you're in a rush to be married.”

“It's not because of the town. I'm thirty-two years old. It's time.”

Graham waved his hand dismissively. “There's no time line for starting a family.”

Wyatt was surprised by the quickness and intensity of his anger. “I'm going to ignore that you said that.”

Graham's eyes widened in surprise. “What's wrong?”

“You never wanted a family. You thought marriage was a fate worse than death. I was the one who wanted the wife and the stability…” Wyatt's voice trailed off and he ran both hands over his head. He took several deep breaths and forced himself to meet Graham's surprised gaze. “This is awkward,” he admitted with a forced laugh. “I guess I'm a little jealous of you.”

“Jealous?”

Wyatt felt awkward, uncomfortable, but now that he had started down the road, he had to finish. “Jealous of what you have, the potential for what you could have.”

Graham stared at his hands for a moment, then looked at Wyatt, obviously at a loss for words.

Wyatt forced a laugh. “I actually rendered you speechless. I didn't think it could be done.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize for falling in love. There is no one in this town more happy for you that you found Charlie because you two are terrific together. It's just that I always thought that I'd be first. I always wanted it more than you did. Even when we were kids, you dated a new girl every month, and I was the one looking for the steady girlfriend. You couldn't wait to leave this town, to try new things, meet new people. I was always content here, to live the Sibleyville lifestyle.”

“I tried to get you to visit me when I was living abroad—”

“It's not about leaving Sibleyville,” Wyatt said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “I've never wanted to leave here. I fit in here. It's just I never thought it would be this hard to find someone. I'm lonely, Graham.”

“I didn't know,” Graham said helplessly. “I thought you were happy.”

“I live above a garage in the back of the funeral home I grew up in,” Wyatt said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why would you think I was happy?”

“You never seemed unhappy, I guess.” The two men were silent for a moment, carefully avoiding each other's eyes.

Wyatt cleared his throat, then said, “You were right about Dorrie. She wasn't the one for me. Maybe the only thing worse than being alone is being in a marriage with a woman you don't love, who you constantly compare to someone else. It wouldn't have been fair to Dorrie or me. So it's back to the drawing board for now.”

“What about Quinn?”

“What about her? She wants to be a movie star, and she can't be one in Sibleyville.”

Graham shook his head, his expression more serious than Wyatt had ever seen him. “If you love her, Wyatt, it doesn't matter. You'll make it work.”

“Here you go, boys,” Annie said, setting down plates of steaming turkey and mashed potatoes. She winked at Wyatt and said, “I added an extra helping of potatoes for you since you've been exerting so much energy and need to keep up your strength.”

Wyatt dug into the food and hoped that Graham would change the subject. Graham watched him for a moment and when Wyatt didn't look up, Graham started to eat and, thankfully, did not bring up Quinn again.

 

Two hours later, Quinn felt refreshed after a shower and a short nap. She wore the only comfortable pair of jeans she owned and Graham's sweatshirt that she had decided to permanently co-opt. She combed out her damp hair in front of the mirror in her bedroom and mused about the last few days.

Ever since she had set foot in Sibleyville, things had been different. She had been different. And she blamed it all on Wyatt. She could hardly concentrate on her script. She hadn't returned any of the six voice mail messages that Helmut had left on her cell phone. And she had been more happy than an out-of-work actress should have been.

Her cell phone rang again. Quinn sat on the bed and stared at the telephone on the nightstand. It was Helmut. She had to break the “good news” at some point, except it suddenly didn't seem like good news anymore.