Colton carries a certain stigma in this town, West. Especially with the rich branches of the Colton family like Gemma’s.”
“Maybe, but not from what I’ve seen. People respect you for who you are, honey. And your excellent cooking, even if you make tofu,” he teased back.
He strode behind her and gently took the brush from her hands. West began to brush her hair as she smiled at him in the mirror.
West scanned the items on the table’s polished surface, fishing for an opening to bring up her sister.
“Did Demi ever brush your hair when you were kids?”
Ever so slightly, she stiffened. “We didn’t live together. And my mom and hers didn’t exactly get along.”
He kept brushing, while racking his brain for a way to bring up her sister again. But for now, it felt wonderful to be with her, to ease the pressure of the job with the simple enjoyment of Quinn’s company.
West wished the job and his personal life didn’t have to collide.
Her eyes closed and she made a sound of pure pleasure. “That feels so good. You’re a good man with your hands, West Brand.”
A faint memory tugged at him. Once the grief had been a sharp blade, but now it had eased into a painful ache. “My sisters used to beg me to brush their hair at night. It was one of my chores. I’d sit down with them, listen to their day, brush their hair and then our parents would tuck them into bed.”
Quinn’s eyes met his in the mirror. “You don’t talk much about your family, honey. All I know is that they were killed in an accident. I don’t want to pressure you, but I’d like to know more about your childhood.”
“I’ll tell you. Some day.” A vague promise. He would. It was still too raw, even after all these years, because the sting of guilt was a constant barb, waiting to rip open old wounds once more.
But he’d give her an opening, because maybe in talking about his sisters, she would open up about Demi. And the sooner they found Demi and the Groom Killer, the sooner he could really open up to Quinn.
“We used to go camping in the Black Hills. Dad didn’t have much of a chance to take us, because he was always working, but when he did, it was wonderful. Sometimes we’d stay at cabins in the canyon instead of tent camping, when Mom decided camping was a little too rustic and she needed a real vacation from roughing it. She wanted us to experience nature and the great outdoors, but working plumbing was a terrific invention.”
Quinn smiled softly. “Your mother sounds like she was a special lady.”
The ache in his chest flowered, hit like a hammer. West took a deep breath. Focus on the job and Quinn. “Did you ever go camping with your family?”
“There was a cabin I rented in Spearfish Canyon last year when I needed to get away from work.” Quinn frowned, as if trying to remember. “Lovely place. It was called Pine Paradise. It was the most peaceful, serene spot I’d ever visited.”
She turned her head and he stopped brushing. “You know that feeling, where you’re outside in nature, the birds chirping, the wind blowing through the trees and you feel like you’re the only soul in the world?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I know it.”
Places like that kept him sane when the job grew too intense and the evil he’d witnessed threatened to erode his soul.
“It was a good place to get away from the pressures of the city. I invited Demi to stay with me. I was trying to get to know her better. She always loved the outdoors and I thought it was a good place to bond with her.”
“Do you think she would ever return there? Did she enjoy it?”
“I have no clue,” she muttered. “She didn’t stay long.”
“That’s too bad.”
Quinn sighed. “She was in a hurry to leave, as usual. Loaned me her leather motorcycle jacket. It’s still in the closet. I keep meaning to return it, but hoped she would stop by. That was long before everything went down with the Groom Killer.”
He stopped brushing her hair, took a curl between his fingers and pulled it down slightly. West watched it uncoil and spring back up. Then he went into her closet, sorted through the clothing and found the jacket. Leather motorcycle jacket, with a broken zipper. He whistled.
“Nice.” West replaced it in the closet, returned to her. “I have a much better way of keeping you warm. You and me at Pine Paradise. A few days hiking, trout fishing.”
Quinn smiled, her earlier displeasure gone. “Fishing? And I’d cook the fish.”
“All organic,” he teased.
She caught his right hand, kissed his palm, her mouth moving over the old scar tissue. Quinn rubbed her cheek against it. “You never did tell me about how you got this. Was it on a field assignment?”
“It was a long time ago. I’ll tell you, someday.”
West thought about her sister. Relationships that failed, bonds never formed. At least he’d shared that with his sisters, much as he missed them.
Memories helped ease the grief on days when it hurt.
“I always longed for a brother. Do guy stuff with, like camping, football, basketball, but my sisters were...special to me. I never regretted any of the time I spent with them. They could be pests, like little sisters are, but they were great kids.”
He paused in brushing her hair, the acid creeping up his throat. His sisters deserved a chance to live, a chance to have boyfriends, share a first kiss, marriage, babies. They never had it.
“I love children.” Her gaze met his in the mirror. “I want a family, West.”
Damn. Let’s not go there tonight. West’s circle was tight and small. He thought of it as he thought of investigating crime scenes. Work it from the perimeter out. On the outer fringes were coworkers and casual acquaintances. On the inside were those close to him.
There weren’t many of those relationships. He kept it that way.
Once, it had been expanded to include his family, a flock of friends and relatives. After the bomb, he shut down most of those relationships.
Kids meant having innocent, fragile babies who couldn’t defend themselves. What if he failed to keep them safe, the way his own father had failed his daughters?
Including Quinn in his circle? Yeah. Kids? No.
“I don’t want children.” There. He stated it. Would this provoke a fight? But Quinn only looked away, her mouth tight.
“It’s late. Let’s discuss this later,” he told her. As in ten years. Or twenty.
“I would have loved having a little sister when I grew up. I always wanted to have a close relationship with Demi.” Quinn sighed.
Okay, let’s try for subtle. He placed the brush on the table.
“When
