The Best Part of Me (12 page)

“Why's that?” The grin lost some of its humor but it still stayed on his face.

“Because it actually makes you look approachable,” she teased.

“And why would I want to do something stupid like that?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe because looking so downtrodden all the time is not the social norm?”

“Who says downtrodden?”

She laughed. “Apparently I do. Do you prefer demoralized, depressed, dour?”

The grin slowly faded and he just studied her face. His dark eyes lingered momentarily on her lips before moving back to meet hers.

“You look hot.”

Quinn felt her eyes widen and her heart jump up into her throat. He thought she looked hot? Thank goodness for whatever material was making her boobs look so good. She was about to return the compliment, not just because he had said something polite to her but because it was the honest-to-God truth that he was the sexiest man in the room, when he spoke again.

“Maybe if you took your sweater off, you wouldn't be so hot.”

Holy mother of God, she'd been just about to make an absolute ass of herself. She felt deflated. She slid her arms out of her sweater and hung it over the back of her chair. She instantly felt better, even though she was beyond embarrassed.

Trying desperately to change the subject, she said, “So are you—”

“I gotta piss,” Ewan abruptly cut her off. Without so much as a look back at Quinn, he left the table.

Quinn sat stunned and blinked after him as he weaved his way through the crowd.

She didn't know whether to be offended by his lack of manners or to laugh at how unbelievably uncouth he was or wonder why his continued rude behavior even surprised her.

She shook her head.

She drank the last of her beer and set the glass down on the table. Darcy was off getting free whiskey with Sean. Lisbeth was probably to third base by now with her college boy, and Erin enjoyed being a groupie sitting on the side of the stage next to Rory as he tuned his guitar.

And apparently, Ewan had to piss.

She looked down at her outfit and frowned. What a complete waste of time and money. She grabbed her clutch, slid off her stool, and before too long was pushing out the exit into the cooling night air.

Ewan splashed water onto his face in the men's restroom. He opened his eyes as he stared down into the porcelain sink and watched the water drip from his nose and chin.

He bit his lip hard, hoping the pain would distract him.

But he soon realized that all the cold water and lip biting in the world wasn't going to do anything to douse the painful throbbing of his goddamn erection.

The moment Quinn had slipped her arms out of her sweater, he'd felt the blood start to pool in his groin. It was all he could do to get to the men's room without anyone noticing he'd pitched a fucking teepee in his pants.

Whatever top she had on should be banned in public. When she had her sweater on, he hadn't noticed that the top portion of her shirt was see-through. And he certainly hadn't noticed how her breasts pushed against the sheer fabric. God above, she had one sexy set of shoulders. Slender and graceful, the indentions just begging to be licked. Her long, bare neck… Fuck!

He bared his teeth as he pushed away from the sink. The tightness in his boxer briefs was beyond uncomfortable.

What the fuck was this woman doing to him?

Why her?

He didn't need her type of complication in his life. He needed predictability. He needed balance and control.

He needed the type of situation where he'd go to bed with a woman at night and be alone the next morning. That was what he wanted. That was the only way he wanted it.

A normal relationship with a normal woman was not in the cards for him. Because a normal woman deserved much better than a guy with an unforgivable past.

He didn't realize he had started pacing until he caught his reflection in the mirror. Jesus, since when did he get so caught up in shit like this? He didn't pace. And he didn't let a woman lead him around by his dick either. He needed to put a stop to this increasingly annoying infatuation once and for all. It wouldn't be that hard of a task to insult her so much that she'd avoid him. Maybe she'd even leave Ballagh and go back to Pittsburgh.

He pushed out of the men's restroom, his body humming with anticipation. He had to be sure to go about this the right way. No more being friendly. She needed to think twice before ever getting involved with a dick like him.

The sun had thankfully set, which made it much easier to see when he returned to the crowded lobby. As he slowly made his way back to their table on the far side of the room, he noticed Pamela Shazier by the front entrance, unabashedly undressing him with her eyes.

The older woman gave him an idea.

He needed a prop. Not Shazier, since fucking around with her could jeopardize Sean's business deal. He needed another woman. A younger one. He'd invite her over to their table with the offer of a drink, then some blatant flirting, maybe some inappropriate touching, some suggestive gestures…

What better way to get Quinn running for the hills than to make himself look like the biggest womanizing dick in the room?

Mind made up, he headed toward a large group of college students who had settled by the nearest bar. He pulled up short when he glanced over at the table he'd left Quinn at.

She was gone.

He quickly scanned the room, instant relief washing over him when he spotted the pretty-boy professor talking to a small group of college students. But the relief was short-lived as he realized that the professor wasn't the only fucker who'd been watching Quinn all evening.

Irritation bloomed in his chest as he sought her out amongst the party goers. He couldn't see her anywhere. Had she left with someone else?

A quick guitar melody swirled around the room and was soon joined by a bass and banjo. As the crowd settled in to be entertained by Rory Hughes's band, Ewan leaned against the wall and tried to come to grips with something he wasn't accustomed to feeling.

Jealousy.

The weather had finally caught up to them. It had been warm and sunny for a good two weeks, and Quinn had been thoroughly spoiled. But after the wonderful days of perfect weather, Mother Nature must have said, “Enough is enough.” Luckily for Quinn, she'd managed to get the garden planted and the pergola constructed before the rains came.

It was late Thursday evening and she couldn't sleep. She'd been sick of staring at the ceiling. Staring at the wall hadn't been much better, and she'd counted herds of sheep with no success. She'd thrown off her covers, zipped herself into a white hooded sweatshirt, and stormed out into the damp, chilly night. In hindsight, the sweatshirt had been a good call but her cotton pajama shorts did nothing to shield her legs from the cold.

The gloomy weather seemed to match her mood. In fact, she'd been low the entire week. Quinn mostly vacillated between sad and annoyed. Sad that life didn't seem to be getting any easier and annoyed that she allowed herself to be sad in the first place.

Some days she was more patient with herself than others, but tonight wasn't one of them.

The night was still and the air thick with the smell of wet earth. The moisture in the air hung like a shroud. The rain wasn't over for the evening. It was probably only a matter of time before the skies opened up again.

Despite the chill, the frogs still sang their evening songs in the nearby creeks and ponds. Their
yeeps
combined with Quinn's heavy footsteps were the only sounds she could hear.

She hadn't seen Ewan at all that week. She'd kept herself busy so she wouldn't have to think about him. She was so conflicted about the darkly handsome bartender that she didn't know what to think. Just when she'd find herself forgetting about him, he'd pop back into her life and do something more confounding than the last.

In the month since she'd been in Ballagh, he'd gone from reluctantly helping her to kissing her senseless and then back to being a complete jackass.

Then last weekend he'd proven he could actually have a polite conversation—and even smile—before turning completely frigid and unmannerly.

He couldn't seem to make up his mind whether he liked her or not. And not just like her as in physically. Simply like her as in finding it acceptable to be in her presence.

More disturbing to her, though, were her feelings for him. Despite the fact that he was giving her whiplash, she found herself wanting to be around him. She wanted to see if she could get him to smile more. Get him to open up a little. She wanted to crack the strange nut that was Ewan McKenna and find out what was going on inside his hard shell. But the more and more she thought of it, she wondered if it was really worth the effort.

As she walked along the hedges toward the Blue Hills Reservation, the gentle mist that had been floating in the air was turning into a light drizzle. Just as she was about to turn back toward her aunt's house, she stilled.

There were voices coming from far off in the distance. They were faint, but…yes, she most definitely heard voices.

She continued walking, and before too long, she spotted a group of people standing together under the dim light of a lamppost. It was the last lamppost along the road before it rose up into the hills of the reservation.

As she drew near, their voices grew louder, and they looked to be…cheering? Her first instinct was to forget about it and return home, realizing that no good could come from a gathering of obnoxious people in the wee hours of the night. But then she recognized two of Rory's bandmates, Tommie and Ian, yelling with the rest of the crowd.

Hesitantly, she approached the small group, none of which even noticed she'd joined them. Quinn skirted around the perimeter under the glow of the streetlight. Two men were fighting. With the way the crowd shouted at them, she figured that this wasn't just some random fight between two guys with bad blood.

Most of the people had money clenched in their hands. Some were waving it in the air, provoking the two fighters, cheering on their favorites.

When Quinn's attention came back to the fighters, her breath faltered. The tall, shirtless man with his back to the crowd was Ewan.

She didn't need to see his face to know it was him. His muscular back gleamed with sweat in the dull yellow light. His broad shoulders lifted steadily with each breath, each defined muscle tight from exertion.

His opponent had red hair and was slightly taller but not quite as broad. One of his eyes was red and swollen. He taunted Ewan, but the rumble of the crowd drowned out what he was saying. Ewan remained eerily calm as he stared down the other man.

The two men circled, and Quinn could finally see his face.

Ewan's dark stare was locked on the man he was fighting, his strong hands clenching into fists at his sides. There was a dusting of dark hair on his chest that continued in a trail down his flat, tight stomach before disappearing under his low-hanging black pants. He looked dark and menacing, and any sane man would have run the other way.

The opponent threw a left hook and connected with Ewan's jaw, snapping his face sideways. Quinn cringed as he stumbled. The other man backed up from Ewan, looking quite shocked that he'd landed such a hit. Ewan turned his head, spit out some blood, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

He looked at his opponent and smiled. Quinn felt her heart thump in her chest. She'd been waiting for that smile and the two dimples that dotted each cheek. But somehow seeing it with a trickle of blood running from his mouth made her shiver.

His shoulder blades were pulled together, and his chest was rising and falling with each heavy breath. The men stared at each other as they began to circle again. The red-haired man lunged at him, but Ewan stepped to the side. His opponent swung, but Ewan ducked out of the way. Ewan was physically tiring him out. He was always two steps ahead.

The man lunged once more, but again Ewan was too quick. He stepped away and landed a punch to the guy's ribs. His opponent buckled forward, and Ewan followed with an uppercut square under the man's chin. His entire body lifted off the ground and flew backward, falling on his back like a bag of sand. Cheers erupted from the crowd as Ewan stepped back, his breath heaving in his chest.

Quinn was sure the man was dead.

She stood motionless and watched the man lying on his back with his arms collapsed to the sides. It seemed like minutes passed until the man moved. Ewan knelt beside his opponent and spoke to him. The man on the ground nodded and took Ewan's outstretched hand. He pulled him to his feet and slapped him on the shoulder. The other man smiled with blood-stained teeth.

Ewan bent down, picked up a white shirt from the grass, and as he stood, he saw her.

Quinn's breath caught in her throat as he froze in place. Quinn wanted to rush to him to make sure he wasn't hurt. But the man who stood there staring at her—the one who'd just put on a marvelous show for the small crowd gathered at the edge of the forest—was a stranger.

How could those same strong hands that had just beaten another man have felt so warm and wonderful on her skin? How could that beautiful mouth that had been bloodied by another man's fists have kissed her so passionately?

And how could she want him more in that moment than she'd ever wanted anything in her life?

He pushed his arms through his shirt and pulled it down over his head. When he started to walk in her direction, Quinn turned quickly toward the dim lights of the village.

She was no longer paying attention to how cold her legs were. The rain was coming down in fat drops, and she was having a hard time keeping water out of her eyes. She walked past all the dark storefronts of the village as quickly as she could.

She clenched her fists until they shook, not daring to look behind her to see if Ewan still watched her from beneath the lone lamp post.