Midnight Lies: The Wildefire Series (30 page)

“I was the one who asked you here for coffee. You had to know I would come in here.
So, tell me, Sam, are you following me?”

She heard the humor in his voice. Any other time, she might have laughed at the ridiculousness
of the situation. She didn’t feel any laughter within her. “Fine. Just don’t talk
to me.”

“You started the conversation, Sam. I was only being polite in answering you.”

“You asked me about the pie.”

“No, I asked Faye. She’s standing only a few feet away from me.”

She peeked over her shoulder and sure enough, Faye stood barely three feet away staring
down at both of them. Samantha turned back around. “Fine. Whatever. Just do what you
came here to do and leave me alone.”

There was complete silence.

“Quinn?”

Still no answer. Unable to help herself, she turned around and almost bumped noses
with him.

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you answer?”

“You told me not to talk to you.”

With a huff, she turned back around. “Glad we got that straight.”

She couldn’t be sure, but it sounded as if he swallowed a laugh.

“I’m so happy you find this situation so amusing.”

“I don’t, Sam. In fact, I’m damn lonely. If you like, you can join me in my booth
and we can talk like two adults instead of seventh graders with a secret crush.”

The enticement was great. She had no doubt if she wanted to, she could join Quinn
at his booth and they could have a wonderful conversation. And after they left here,
she knew she could follow him to his house and they could make love. Quinn had made
no bones about the fact that he was open to having her back in his bed. But she wanted
more than just a bed partner. She wanted him in other places besides the bedroom.
She wanted to be his companion, his friend and his lover. Forever.

“That’s okay. I’m perfectly happy here.”

“Suit yourself.”

“What’re you going to have?”

Samantha looked up into Faye’s tired, lined face. “Coffee.”

“No dessert? You’re still too skinny.”

“Why not get the apple pie, with ice cream?” This came from Quinn.

Ignoring him, Samantha said, “Coffee is just fine. Thanks.”

Faye walked a couple of steps sideways to Quinn.

“What’re you going to have?”

“Coffee, extra-large slice of apple pie, two scoops of ice cream … why don’t you bring
two spoons, just in case.”

“You got it.”

The humor in Faye’s voice was unmistakable. Samantha turned around and gaped. She
had never heard or seen Faye have any kind of humorous moment. Though her mouth was
still set on grim, there was a twinkle in her wise brown eyes. Despite her irritation
at Quinn, Samantha was suddenly glad he was here. If he could give a lift to Faye,
who had always seemed unliftable, then the aggravation of his presence was worth it.

Deciding to ignore him as best she could, Samantha took out a notepad and pen from
the little pack attached to her waist, having learned to never go anywhere without
something to write on or with. Now to figure out how to get their name out so they
could grow their business. She opened to the first page and sighed. She also needed
to decide on the menu for Thanksgiving dinner. Which reminded her. She had yet to
invite the aggravating man behind her.

“You still there?”

“Where else am I going?”

“Savvy wanted me to invite you to Thanksgiving dinner.”

“And what about you? Did you want to invite me?”

“You can come if you want.” She winced, well aware that she had sounded like a bratty
teenager.

“What a lovely invitation. So heartfelt and sincere.”

“Fine. Would you please come to Thanksgiving dinner?
We’ll have a massive amount of food and lots of people.”

“So you can ignore me.”

“Whether I like it or not, Quinn, you’re not exactly ignorable.”

“Thank you, Sam. That’s probably one of the nicest things you’ve said to me in a while.
And yes, I would love to come to Thanksgiving dinner with your family.”

“Fine. Be there at two. We—”

“Hey there, Dr. Braddock. Did you enjoy the casserole?”

She stiffened, recognizing the sugary-sweet tone of Lindsay Milan. The woman had somehow
slunk up to Quinn’s booth without Samantha seeing her pass by.

“Hello, Mrs. Milan. That was a fine casserole.”

Quinn didn’t bother to tell the woman that it was still in the fridge. He hadn’t even
thought about eating it last night. What he wanted to do was ask her to leave so he
could continue flirting with Sam. An outside observer might think they were sniping
at each other, but this was the friendliest conversation he’d had with her in a while.
He wanted to continue.

“I’m making Thanksgiving dinner for my family at my house. We’d love it if you could
come.”

Considering that one of those family members was Clark Dayton, Quinn seriously doubted
that. The bastard had called Samantha a slut. Saying that about any woman wasn’t something
Quinn would allow. Having it said about Sam? Hell, the man was lucky he hadn’t lost
some teeth in the altercation.

“I appreciate the invitation, but I already have plans.”

He watched Lindsay’s eyes travel over to Sam, who was still sitting behind him. And
though he couldn’t see her, he knew her back was board stiff and she was listening
to every word.

“Maybe we could go see a movie or something. The
holiday movies are starting. There’re going to be some good ones.”

“I’m going to be tied up with the repairs to my house. Thanks, though.”

“What about dinner tomorrow night. I mean … you gotta eat.”

She stared silently for several more seconds. The longer she stared, the more he felt
sorry for her. Even as she stood there, trying to act seductive, the look in her eyes
said she was expecting a rejection, like she was used to getting turned down. He’d
never in his life accepted a date with a woman because he pitied her, but he heard
himself saying, “Dinner tomorrow night sounds good.”

Three things happened simultaneously. Lindsay smiled like she’d just won the lottery.
Faye slammed his apple pie à la mode onto the table with a killing glare. And Sam
got up and walked out of the restaurant.

Quinn cursed silently. Nodding his agreement to Lindsay’s plans, he stood and threw
down money for the dessert he no longer wanted. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Aren’t you going to eat your apple pie?”

“Can’t. Just remembered I gotta be somewhere. You’re welcome to it.”

He didn’t stick around to see if she took him up on his offer. As he walked through
the restaurant, he felt the disapproving glares drilling a hole into his back. He
knew he had made a tactical error. It was obvious just from the short time he’d spent
here that Sam was a favorite of many in Midnight. She was a favorite of Quinn’s, too.
Unfortunately it wasn’t enough for her.

Monday night, Samantha sat across from Blaine and worked hard to hang on to her smile.
She didn’t want to be here with him but neither did she want to be at home,
moping about Quinn. At least dinner with Blaine meant she was doing something constructive.

“Do you not like your steak?”

“It’s delicious.” She swallowed the small bite she’d taken and added, “Guess I’m not
as hungry as I thought.”

“For a Podunk town, Midnight has some pretty good restaurants, but I thought coming
to Mobile would be a treat for both of us.”

She ignored the slight to the town she loved and said, “Are you not liking Midnight
as much as you did?”

Blaine gazed over her shoulder, as if he were seeing something in the distance. “Things
just haven’t worked out the way I wanted them to.” Before she could comment on that,
he said, “How goes the security business? Have any jobs yet?”

“Not yet. It takes time to establish a business like that.”

“Takes keeping secrets, too. Doesn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Just that every time I ask about your business, you’ve been evasive.
I finally decided that it makes sense for you not to tell me. After all, if you’re
doing secretive stuff, you can’t exactly broadcast it, can you?”

Her senses heightened, she tentatively opened a trapdoor and offered some bait. “You’re
very smart to pick up on that. We do have a case but it’s not something I can talk
about.”

“That’s what I figured. Is it dangerous?”

“It could be.”

He stared hard at her for several seconds and then said, “You like danger?”

“I was a cop. I like to right wrongs.”

“So do I.”

“What do you mean?”

He gave a self-deprecating smile. “I was an accountant. I righted wrongs every day.”

“Are you not looking for an accounting job in Midnight?”

“Not yet. I’m trying to decide if I’m going to stay. I haven’t found what I was looking
for yet.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Peace. Healing.”

“You think that’s possible?”

Surprising her, Blaine took her hand from the wineglass she’d been fiddling with and
held it to his mouth. “I think it’s something we can work on together.”

Whoa. Where had that come from? Just when she was thinking he might have some connection
to Cruz, he threw her for another loop. He had claimed he wasn’t looking for a relationship
beyond friendship. And now this?

Samantha gently pulled at her hand but Blaine held it tight. Tugging more forcibly,
she finally succeeded. “Blaine, no. I’m sorry but I just don’t have those kinds of
feelings for you.”

“But you could. If you try, I know you could.” He gave her another gentle smile. “Give
us a chance.”

She had found herself in many uncomfortable situations in her life, but this ranked
near the top. The restaurant was small, so conversations weren’t private. She’d seen
more than a couple of people glance their way during this exchange.

In the past, she had been able to extricate herself from such situations with relative
ease. The determined set to Blaine’s mouth told her this wasn’t going to be as simple.

“We could never be more than friends. That’s never going to change.”

“I could change your mind … I know I could.” He
put his napkin down and pushed his chair back. “Come home with me and let me show
you how good we could be together.”

She had chosen to be short and curt hoping to cut this conversation off at the quick.
Either she hadn’t been as blunt as she had thought or Blaine was more stubborn than
most.

“No, that’s not going to happen. I don’t want you in that way, Blaine.” And because
he still looked unconvinced, she added with brutal honesty, “I never will.”

As if realizing he had attracted the attention of nearby tables, he gave a self-conscious
glance around and then turned back to her. She braced herself for his anger but was
relieved when he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you.” He nodded at her still-full
plate. “Do you want to take that home?”

“No.”

“Then I think we’ll both be more comfortable if I drove you home now.”

Glad to be going but sad that she had hurt his feelings, Samantha stood and walked
with him out of the restaurant. The silence was stiff and awkward. She scrambled for
something to break the ice and ease the tension.

When in doubt of what to say, a Southerner always turns to weather. “I heard that
a winter storm is headed for the North. Think Indiana will get much?”

Thankfully Blaine went along with her lame attempt. “Yeah, I heard that, too. I checked
online … looks like it’s going to blanket half the country.”

That conversation got them to the car, but once they were both seated and Blaine had
pulled out of the parking lot, the tense silence returned. Samantha chose not to try
again. She wished they had eaten at a restaurant in Midnight as opposed to one in
Mobile. A forty-minute
drive home could feel like hours in situations like this.

Glancing at his profile to see if he was feeling the same level of discomfort, she
was stunned to see him smiling at her.

“Something amusing?”

“I was just thinking how I really know how to end an evening on a sour note.”

“Blaine, I am—”

He held up a hand. “Please … don’t apologize again. You did nothing wrong. I obviously
misinterpreted things.”

Since she had made a point of telling him she wasn’t interested in anything but friendship
when he had asked her out for this date, she wasn’t sure how he had misinterpreted
her. Reminding him was useless, so she didn’t. Instead she said, “The restaurant was
good. I’ve never been there before.”

Apparently lame conversation starters weren’t going to work, since he just nodded
his head and was once more silent. Samantha let it go. She’d done her best to minimize
his hurt, and she couldn’t change her mind about her feelings. There was nothing more
she could do.

When at last they turned onto Wildefire Lane, tension eased from her body. Just a
few more seconds and she would be out of this awkward situation. She made a solemn
vow to herself never to agree to go out with a man again unless she was romantically
interested in him. Then she grimly acknowledged that since she would never be interested
in anyone that way but Quinn, she would likely never date again. She mentally shrugged.
So be it.

Blaine pulled in front of the Wilde house and parked. Hoping to get away without any
more dramatics, she opened the car door.

“Samantha … wait.”

She turned to him and said, “Really, I think it’ll be best if we just leave it like
this. Okay?”

“I’m really sorry it turned out this way. I hope we can still be friends.”

Friends? Even if he wasn’t one of Cruz’s men, she didn’t see a friendship happening
between them. However, getting into another discussion was pointless.

“I’ve got to go, Blaine. Again, I’m sorry.”

He nodded and allowed her to exit the car. She was relieved that he didn’t try to
escort her to the door. Her foot had just hit the first step of the porch when Blaine
called out, “Samantha, wait.”