The Best Part of Me (18 page)

“I'll let go of the ball next time.”

He nodded, still looking at her face. The anger was gone, replaced by concern. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“Yes,” she groaned, swatting him with the back of her hand against his hard stomach. “Now let's play. I'm not walking off this field until I get a touchdown.”

“It's called a try. And I think you should leave the ball carrying to the other members of your team who know what the hell they're doing.”

Quinn scowled. “I may not know the rules but it doesn't mean that I can't score.”

He was amused at her defensiveness. “Whatever you say.”

“You wanna bet?”

“Sure.”

“Fine. If I score a try, you have to take me hiking on your next day off.”

He nodded. “And if you don't score?”

She shrugged. “Then I can help you at the pub or something.”

He folded his arms across his chest and grinned. “How about if you don't score a try, then you are all mine from the time I get off work tonight until tomorrow morning. And
I
get to score as many times as I want.”

She wanted to smack that smirk right off his face, but she settled for rolling her eyes.

Quinn sat beside Ewan, her arms firmly crossed in front of her, her entire body shifted away from him toward the passenger-side door of the truck. She hadn't said five words to him since they'd left the field, and even stopping at the garden center didn't break her out of her dark mood.

It made him laugh. God, she was fiery. Stubborn as a mule with a temper as flammable as gunpowder. She was two people rolled into one, and he was fascinated with both. The sweet, proper girl and the irrationally headstrong woman.

Ewan pulled the truck to a stop in front of Maura Hughes's house.

“I should be done with work around one thirty a.m. Why don't you come over earlier and you can hang out in my apartment until I'm done.”

She turned her head to glare at him and her stormy gray eyes narrowed.

“What makes you think I'm interested in coming over?”

Ewan smiled. “Because a bet's a bet. And I won.”

She inhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring slightly as she looked straight ahead.

“Truth be told, this temper of yours is really turning me on. Maybe I should call in sick today and just collect my prize now.”

Her head snapped back toward him. “You shouldn't get a prize at all! You cheated!”

“You didn't score. That means I won our bet.”

She was fuming. As funny as it was, he couldn't help feeling sorry for her.

Quinn was very athletic. Although she was petite, her strong little legs moved quickly. She was agile, and Lord knew she was blessed with a competitive spirit. There had been less than a minute left in the game, and somehow, Quinn had gotten her hands on the ball again. He'd watched her take off toward the sidelines, trying to stay clear of the mess of players in the middle of the field. The ball had been tucked neatly into the crook of her arm, and her ponytail had streamed in the wind behind her.

He'd seen his teammate, Kevin, pick up a sudden burst of speed and nearly get within tackling distance when Quinn had suddenly slowed, causing Kevin to slip in front of her, where he'd landed on his ass. She'd leapt over his outstretched arms and bolted toward the try zone.

Ewan had pumped his legs and arms and had given it everything he had, but she'd closed in on the end zone quicker than he'd been closing in on her. Her team screamed at her, cheering her on, and he had to admit to himself that he felt a certain pride in watching her play so well.

She'd crossed the goal line before he could get to her. She'd turned with her arms extended over her head, still clasping the ball in her hands. That's when he'd realized that she thought she was done. Her team's cheers had turned to commands, but Quinn had been too oblivious in her celebration to realize that something was wrong.

He'd run into the try zone, scooped her up in his arms, and carried her quickly toward the sideline before the rest of the players could reach her.

“I see you've raced to be the first to congratulate me. To tell me how very sorry you were to doubt my rugby skills?” She'd laughed, putting one arm around his neck while hugging the rugby ball to her chest with the other.

Ewan should have felt like a cad, but he hadn't in the least. He'd lowered her to the ground after crossing the sideline, and couldn't keep the grin from forming on his lips.

“Aye, I'm congratulating you, all right.” But just before he could tell her that she'd just won a pleasure-filled night in his apartment, the rest of the players had come to a halt around them.

Ewan's teammates were thumping him on the back and shoulders.

“That a boy, Ewan!”

“Way to get her out of the try zone, Ewan!”

Quinn's look of elation had begun to dissolve as she'd watched the other team celebrate. One of his eyebrows had quirked up, and he'd smiled down at her as total confusion clouded her face.

“Quinn.” Tommie pushed through the crowd. “You had to ground the ball!”

Quinn looked at Tommie blankly. “What?”

“For it to count as a try, you had to down the ball!”

Quinn frowned, looking from Tommie to Ewan. The completely befuddled look on her face was adorable, and while the rest of the players were either celebrating or complaining, he knew that as soon as the realization struck, she was going to be pissed.

“Quinn, you needed to touch the ball to the ground in order for the try to count,” Rory said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Quinn looked down at the ball. And when she raised her eyes to look at Ewan, he instinctively took a step back. A firestorm of rage was swirling behind those gray eyes of hers. Her jaw was clenched, and she was pressing the ball between her hands so tightly that her shoulders were shaking.

“I didn't score,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.

“No, but you sure have a quick set of legs on you,” Joe Calvin said, putting his arm around Quinn's shoulder.

Ewan wasn't comfortable with the other man touching Quinn or talking about her legs, but he didn't say anything because Quinn herself had barely seemed to notice. She started to turn the ball over in her hands. God knew what going through her head.

“Look on the bright side,” Rory chimed in. “Our team won!”

Quinn slowly nodded, trying to give her teammates a smile, but it came out more like a sneer. As the players made their way over to their cars, Ewan stood watching Quinn as she stared out over the playing field. Finally she looked at him.

“You must feel pretty good about yourself right now.”

Ewan shrugged and tried not to smile, failing miserably. He felt damn good about himself. She was all his, all night long. His mind had barely begun to tick through all the things he wanted to do with her.

That was when her cold treatment started, and it was still going strong, as they unloaded the last of the flagstones out of the back of his truck. Knowing Quinn, she was gonna be pounding away at the dirt in the backyard just to get rid of her frustration.

“I gotta get to the pub. I'll see you tonight?”

Quinn dusted her hands off on her shorts. “We'll see.”

Ewan put a hand at her waist and squeezed her hip bone. “You aren't the type to back out on a bet.” By this time, her glares were losing their intensity. He cupped her face with his other hand and ran his thumb over her flushed cheek. “Anyways, I'll make it worth your while.”

She snorted. “I'm sure you think you will.”

He smiled before brushing his lips teasingly over hers.

“You wanna
bet
?”

A low groan escaped her mouth. She grumbled something that sounded like she'd see him later as she stomped toward the house. Ewan watched as she took the two porch steps in one leap, the backs of her legs and shorts splattered with dried mud.

Quinn's temper was still simmering, but Ewan knew she wasn't fool enough to take on a bet she couldn't win. And that was definitely a bet she
wouldn't
win.

She hated to lose.
Hated it
.

But what she hated more than losing was being thoroughly outwitted, and that was exactly what Ewan had done. He'd known she didn't know she had to ground the damn ball. And during the rather loud and obnoxious celebration she'd had going on in her head at the time, no helpful screaming from her teammates would have helped either.

Quinn was burning up inside. The worst part being that she couldn't even blame him. He'd seen his opening and taken it. She would have done the same thing in his position.

But she wasn't about to let him know that. And she sure as hell wasn't about to let him know that she wasn't bothered in the least to spend the night with him. She'd known as soon as he stated his demands for the bet that it was a win-win situation for both of them.

She just didn't want him to feel so damn good about himself, that was all.

Quinn pushed through her aunt's screen door with enough force to knock it off its hinges. It smacked against the wall and sprung back before she blocked it with her forearm.

“Lord have mercy!” Her aunt startled from her recliner. Maura's hand was over her heart and her eyes were wide with alarm.

“Sorry. I'm sorry.” Quinn felt instantly guilty for losing her temper. “I didn't mean to push it that hard.”

“God, Quinn. You gave us a heart attack!”

Quinn hadn't seen Darcy sitting in the corner of the room. “Sorry,” Quinn muttered again as she put her purse on the kitchen table. She would have joined them in the living room, but she still had too much adrenaline to sit still. She walked into the kitchen and peeked into the refrigerator, looking for nothing in particular, and decided on a can of Coke.

“What's the deal, Quinn? What's got your panties in a twist?” Darcy asked, a grin starting to spread across her face.

“My panties aren't in a twist.”

“Oh really, dear? Then why do you look like you could spit fire?” Aunt Maura asked.

Quinn took a sip of her Coke and heard the faint sound of Ewan's truck pull out of the gravel drive. Imagining the smug grin on his face increased her irritation.

“I played rugby this afternoon with Rory and Ewan.” She wasn't about to explain to them that she was upset she'd lost a bet to be Ewan's private sex slave for the evening.

“Your team lost, I take it?” Darcy asked.

“Yes.” In a manner of speaking, it had.

“I see you haven't lost that competitive spirit,” her aunt said before turning to Darcy. “When she was little, you could never play a board game with Quinn. If she started to lose, she quit before the game was over.”

Darcy raised her brows at Quinn in amusement.

Quinn shrugged. “I had the most unbelievable winning streak using that tactic.”

Her aunt chuckled as Quinn finally sat down on the couch next to Darcy.

“Darcy, what brings you by?” she asked.

“Well, first of all, you need a cell phone. It's unnatural for anyone living in this day and age not to have a cell phone.”

It had been nice not having to worry about answering a phone, actually. Since her parents' deaths, the phone calls had been incessant. Most of them were friends calling to check in on her, and she felt obligated to pick up when they called. Calls from those trying to tie up the loose ends of her parents' estate were more than frequent, and she'd soon grown to resent that tiny electronic device. Before Quinn had flown to Massachusetts, she'd discontinued her cell phone plan and thrown her phone in the Allegheny River. She'd eventually have to get another one, but for now she was enjoying the freedom.

“I needed to get ahold of you this afternoon, and I had no idea how, other than come over and bug the hell out of your aunt. I honestly don't know how anyone could survive without a cell phone.” Darcy was looking at hers in exaggerated adoration.

Quinn laughed. “What did you need?”

“I have a huge—
huge
—favor to ask of you.”

Quinn waited, but Darcy just looked at her. “Okay?”

“Okay, so you know how next week is my last week of classes? Well, we were just given our final exam this morning. And instead of being a written test, we have four days to redesign a living space with a set budget. Four days! Starting Monday!”

Quinn hadn't seen Darcy look so panicked before.

“There are seven of us taking the exam, and they randomly drew the living spaces for each student. I drew an outside patio area! I'm fu—” Darcy quickly looked at Aunt Maura. “I'm doomed.”

“How can I help you?”

“You can be the best friend in the world, and my favorite person for the rest of my life, if you'd come to Providence with me and help me with the patio. We're allowed up to two other people to help us, and if we can't find anyone, they will assign undergraduates. I know interior design, but I know nothing about landscape design. With your help, I could kill this exam. Please say you'll help me!”

Darcy was begging. Hands-folded-together-in-front-of-her begging. She was silently chanting the word please over and over. The sight made Quinn laugh.

“Stop with the dramatics. You know I'll help you.”

Darcy clapped her hands. “Oh, thank God! For a minute I thought I was going to have to ask Lisbeth, and then the whole damn patio would be fu—” Darcy's eyes shot to Aunt Maura again, who cleared her throat. “Would be pink.”

“God forbid,” Quinn joked.

“So you'll help? You don't mind?”

“Not at all.”

Darcy smiled brightly. “Perfect. We'll have access to the room starting tomorrow afternoon. Are you okay with leaving around eight o'clock tomorrow morning?”

Quinn nodded, realizing that her night of fun with Ewan might have to be abbreviated.