and wrenched her hand behind her. “Damn you, Cassie.” His other hand fisted in her hair, jerking her head back. “Stop pushing me.” His handsome face morphed into a mask of dark scowls. “Can’t you get it through that pretty head I don’t want more than friendship from you?” He leaned his forehead against hers. “God sakes, don’t do this to me. To yourself. I adore you,” he exhaled a ragged breath, “but as a friend, a jogging buddy, someone to hang out with.” He stepped back. “Nothing more.”
She took in his tortured expression. Which one of them was in denial here? What the hell was his problem? Her arms wrapped around her waist as if to shield herself from any more emotional blows. She knew what her problem was. It was loving six-foot-three of finely corded muscle with zero capacity for deep emotion. “You can put away your spear now. You’ve wounded me twice in one evening with the truth according to Quinn Gallagher. I can’t take anymore. I’d ask what you’re doing here, why you aren’t at the station, but what the hell does it matter?”
He slid fingertips into the front pockets of his faded jeans, the muscles of his shoulders and arms shifting under the cotton material of his shirt. “I took some personal time. I need to apologize for the things I said to you. I hurt you and I’m sorry. It was all uncalled for.”
“Wolf made you come, didn’t he?” This had her brother’s imprint all over it. He’d been doting on her since the fire that took their parents’ lives. Tears burned the back of her throat and pricked her eyes. “So you took off work to ease tensions with your jogging partner. My feelings as a woman meant nothing.” She could play the guilt card with him. Hadn’t Misty told her to make him feel like an ass for hurting her? A car pulled into the parking lot, drawing her attention for a beat before she looked at his tense face again. No, playing emotional games was never her thing. “Look, it’s obvious I can’t hide the way I feel about you. Maybe it’s best if we stay away from each other.”
“Cassie.” There was a deep strain in his voice.
Twin tears spilled over and tumbled down her cheeks. “You can’t have it both ways. You can’t keep me around for a buddy and then reject my feelings.” She tugged her cell from her purse and scrolled through her contacts. “I’m calling a taxi to take me home. Go on back to the station.” A hot bath, comfy sleep clothes, a quart of chocolate brownie ice cream and a few hours of crying and maybe…maybe she could make it through the night.
Quinn unlocked the door. “Get in. We’re not done talking. When we are, I’ll take you home.”
She couldn’t endure one more minute with him, not when she knew how he really felt about her.
“No. We’re done. Have a good life, Quinn.” She’d made two steps before his arm banded around her waist and lifted her.
“I said we’re not through talking, dammit. Now, get your sweet ass in my Jeep.” He plopped her on the seat and buckled her in. “If you want me out of your life, my friend, fine. But before I walk away, I have some things to teach you.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “You don’t have a damn thing to teach me. Although I am a little intrigued how you knew about hot wax play. Isn’t that some BDSM shit? Beyond that, we have nothing to discuss.”
He shrugged. “We watch the occasional movie at the station.”
She glared at Quinn, sauntering in front of his vehicle. So he enjoyed watching dirty movies. What guy didn’t? Was that what made him disinterested? Her innocence? She glared out the passenger window and swiped at a tear. Hell, the closest thing she knew to sex games was Spin the Bottle—and if that wasn’t damn pathetic, what was?
He settled behind the steering wheel and clicked his seatbelt. “How about a walk on the beach?”
“How about you telling me why I don’t do it for you?”
“Peanut.” His voice was almost a moan of remorse.
“Don’t you peanut me. Am I so ugly, so immature, so annoying?” She lifted her open hands in a helpless gesture. “What? I’m good enough to hang out with, to jog with, to go see a movie with, but not date. Why? You’ve already humiliated me today, so fess up. Tell me why the thought of our being a romantic couple makes you want to throw up.”
He started the engine and shoved the Jeep into reverse. “I never said that. You’re overreacting.”
She punched him. Once, twice, three times in the arm. “Overreacting? After all you’ve put me through today? You arrogant asshole.” She slapped his arm again and shifted in her seat so her back was toward him. Good god, what a day.
“Would you settle down?” He pulled onto route 60 and sped toward Clearwater Beach. Since he had the top off his Wrangler, the cool evening air blew over them. Cassie wrapped her black knit shawl tighter around her shoulders. Both were silent, the tension between them hanging thicker than early morning fog off the gulf. He hung a left onto South Gulfview Boulevard and zipped into the parking lot at Mossie’s Island Grill.
“You’re favorite place. Have you eaten, pea…Cassie?” He undid his seatbelt and shifted in his seat.
“Not hungry.”
“Well, I am. Come on. Let’s get something. You know you love Mossie’s food.”
I’ll never be able to come here again. How often have we come here together?
After placing an order to go, the two of them removed their shoes, locking them in the wheel hub along with her purse. Spending time with him alone on a darkened, deserted beach would have been a dream come true a day or so ago. Now, it was merely another nail hammered into the coffin of her dreams. How many ways could he tell her goodbye?
He removed a blanket from the back of the Jeep and passed it to her before he shrugged into a jean jacket he discovered jammed under some tools. She followed him toward the beach while he carried the bag of food and a six-pack. Gone was their usual jovial rapport. An uncomfortable silence settled over them, and she wished she were home where she could fall apart in solitude.
“How’s your soft crab sandwich?” Quinn shoved a curly fry into his mouth.
Is that what she was eating? Her taste buds were suffering from a broken heart, too, if such a pitiful thing were possible. “It’s okay.” She drained her second beer and reached for a third.
His warm hand covered hers. “Go easy on that stuff.”
She popped the top and guzzled, not because she was thirsty, but because she was through taking orders from anyone.
Quinn crumpled the empty French fry bag and shoved it into their take-out tote. His arms angled over his raised knees. “Look, I know you’re pissed, but you need someone to teach you a few things.”
The can of Coors stilled near her lips. “Oh, really? I suppose you are the fountain of feminine knowledge.” She finished off the beer. Between the greasy fries and three beers, her stomach had expanded to the size of Eagle Lake.
“I know enough not to take a drink of anything I’ve walked away from to use the restroom or dance. Someone could easily slip in a date rape drug. Remember that.”
She nodded and belched. “Got it. Quinn is afraid of being raped.”
He grabbed her shoulders and pressed her
