Page 32 of His Wisconsin Wallflower
“Yeah, thanks,” she murmured, as she climbed into the seat. She settled in, tugging the scarf higher around her neck, her attention fixed on the dashboard.
Quinten shut the door and went around to his side. He climbed in, letting the truck’s heater kick in before saying more. Usually, she’d make some comment about the cold or crack a joke, but the silence lay heavy between them. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as he pulled onto the main road. Her posture was rigid, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, and her face was turned toward the passenger window.
“Everything okay?” he asked after a moment, keeping his tone casual.
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed without looking at him.
Well, that’s not convincing.He frowned, taking in the position of her shoulders and the tightness in her jaw. “Long day at the shop?”
“Yeah,” she said, reaching up to twist a strand of hair.
One-word answers. Not a good sign. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, searching for something else to say.“You seem a little... distracted. Is it about the meeting with the detectives?”
She shook her head and was still avoiding his gaze.Damn it!
“No.”
“Something bad happen?”
“No.”
“Okay, well, how was your day?”
“Fine.”
That was it? Justfine. Quinten clenched his jaw as he battled inwardly with his irritation then decided to let it go for the present. She wasn’t a moody person and certainly didn’t take out her irritation on others. Whatever was on her mind, she unmistakably wasn’t ready to share. Maybe it was nerves about the police meeting, or maybe it was something else entirely.Does she regret last night?his brain supplied unhelpfully, which made his chest tighten.
The rest of the drive passed in uncomfortable silence, he pressed a few buttons, and a local radio station filled the quiet. Every so often, he stole a glance at her, catching the way she fidgeted with the edge of her scarf or how she never settled her gaze on one thing for long. She was clearly preoccupied, and it was driving him crazy trying to figure out why.
“Hey.” He kept his tone soft and gentle, as if she was a skittish foal. “We’re going to figure all of this out. Don’t worry.”
Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something, but she hesitated, before pressing her mouth into a stubborn line and nodding instead.
Chapter Eighteen
Quinten parked the car next to his brother’s faded-red clunker and turned off the ignition. In the quiet that followed, a series of faintpingsandticksbegan to rise from the engine as the metal cooled and contracted. He let the noises fade into the background, his focus shifting to Raisa. She hadn’t moved, her hands resting tightly in her lap, her knuckles pale against the dark fabric of her coat.
“You ready?” He forced himself to keep his voice light.
Her hand tightened on her purse strap, the leather creaking under the pressure. “Let’s get this over with.”
Not exactly reassuring. He reached over and gave her knee a gentle squeeze, surprised at the tension coiled there. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t relax either. He let his hand linger a moment longer before stepping out into the biting January air that smelled faintly of salt and ozone.
Raisa climbed out after him, shutting the door a little harder than necessary. Quinten adjusted his coat and waited for her to join him on the sidewalk. She didn’t look at him as they headed to the entrance, her boots tapping sharply against the concrete. Above them, the precinct’s security light buzzed faintly, haloingher in its cold glow. Her movements were too mechanical and stiff. She fumbled with her scarf, as if trying to buy herself time, then moved the strap of her purse an inch higher on her shoulder.
Once they reached the frosted glass doors, he discerned the faint outlines of two figures on the waiting benches. As he let Raisa in, he didn’t miss how she stiffened at the sight of Gavin and Corbin. He should have warned her that Gavin had called him earlier, telling him he would be there to support them. And Corbin… well, he was always solid. Still, his brother’s and cousin’s presence might add more pressure on Raisa, and he should have taken that into account.
Raisa slowed, and her brows drew together. Quinten settled a hand at the small of her back and tried to ignore how good her ass looked in the dark blue denim jeans. He failed. A rush of heated air blasted against his face, providing the distraction he needed. The chemical scent of cleaning detergent and pine air freshener battled against the scent of stale coffee, old sweat, and something sour he didn’t try to put a name to it.
“Hey.” Gavin gave them an easy smile, his tone light and breezy, as always. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat, giving Quinten a nod before shifting his attention to Raisa. “Thought we’d come check in. Big moment and all that.”
Raisa gave him a cursory glance and pressed her lips into a tight smile. “Something like that.”
Gavin didn’t miss a beat, his smirk deepening. “Don’t worry too much. You’re not on trial here.”
“Yet,” she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Quinten to hear. He frowned but didn’t comment, instead nodding a greeting to Corbin, who gave him a firm clap on the shoulder.
“Let’s go,” Quinten said, steering Raisa gently toward the receptionist’s desk, where a bored-looking officer motionedthem through. Gavin and Corbin followed at a respectful distance. Raisa kept her head high, but tension radiated off her.
