Page 13 of The One for Forever

She seems to deflate. “Of course. It’s what bodyguards do. I guess you’ll be involved with our extra security during the Printz trial.”

“I will. So you just let me know what you need. If that’s threatening some punk football player for mistreating you, I’m here.”

Her beer bottle freezes on the way to her mouth. “Wait. Did you actually do that? You threatened Landon?”

Whoops. Probably shouldn’t have given that away.

Quinn looks incredulous. “That little shit apologized to me after prom night. And he was shaking like a leaf, like he was terrified of me. I thought Cliff said something to him! Landon avoided me for the rest of the school year. I mean, I was fine with that. But…that wasyou?”

I tuck a hand into my pants pocket, gesturing casually with the beer bottle. “Threateningis a strong word. I told Landon if he didn’t say he was sorry, plus volunteer at the local homeless shelter for the next three Sundays, I’d inform his parents of his behavior.” And, possibly, snap his femurs like twigs. The memory is fuzzy.

Quinn shakes her head like she can’t believe me. I’m relieved when she barks a laugh, then clinks her beer bottle against mine. “Wow. I should be mad, but I’m not. Does Cliff know?”

“Not the exact details. But he’s the one who told me Landon’s name and where to find him. Cliff tries to look out for you. He cares a lot about you.” I glance down at my beer. “So do I.”

Her cheeks flush again. There’s a lively song playing, and bright lights swirl over the dance floor. But this part of the ballroom is nearly empty. Quinn steps out of her heels and stretches her feet.

“Getting comfortable?” I ask.

“I love my heels, but dang, it feels good to take them off.”

I decide to follow suit by taking off my jacket and slinging it over a nearby chair. “I haven’t seen much of you lately. Why’d you stop coming to dinners with Cliff and me? I know you moved out of the Pink House, but you’re still welcome.”

“I’ve been trying something different. Being more independent and grown-up instead of holding on to things from my childhood.”

“And how’s that going?”

She takes a gulp of beer. “Harder than I thought it would be.”

“You’re always welcome with me and Cliff. You’re family. Don’t ever doubt that.”

She opens her mouth, but she hesitates. It’s like the words are there on her tongue. But she closes them off with a frown. She finishes her beer instead and sets it aside. “I think I’ll call it a night.”

“But we should talk about your security for the trial.”

“Whatever Lana wants is fine. I’m just the junior attorney.”

She’s unhappy. I don’t know why, but somehow, I said the exact wrong thing. “Wait.”

I don’t want Quinn to leave like this. Like I’m just one more person who’s disappointed her. At the very least, I should ensureshe gets home safely. Not only because I’m in charge of her personal security until the Printz trial ends—I really need to iron out those details with Max tomorrow—but because Cliff asked me to.

But most of all, I want to spend time with Quinn. I’ve missed her. I want to see her smiling, and that can’t be a bad thing. The fact that she’s grown into a gorgeous woman is…distracting. But it hardly matters. I’m here for her,always, and I need to make sure she knows it.

I hold out my hand. “Come with me. I know exactly what we both need.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we’ll be ridiculously overdressed. But I promise there will be no spreadsheets.”

4

Ican handle this.

It doesn’t matter that I’m walking toward some unknown destination with the handsomest, most irresistible man I’ve ever met. I am Sensible Quinn. A woman who doesn’t get hung up on men she can never have.

It’s a perfect West Oaks evening. Warm, a slight breeze, with the waves providing a calming backdrop to the sounds of nightlife. Ocean Lane bustles with locals and tourists out enjoying the weekend. We cross at a pedestrian walkway to reach the beachside path. By day, rollerbladers and power-walkers roam up and down this ribbon of concrete.

Rex has his bowtie slung around his neck, his jacket over one arm, the other hand tucked into his pocket. Like 007 on his day off. The Daniel Craig version, naturally.

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