Between the Lines Page 3

  Back in my room, I pull on my uniform and situate the gun on my hip. We don’t have a lot of crime in Dale City, but with Quinn in town, I’ve made it my personal objective to keep her safe. Not that I had a choice. The chief of police assumed that, since my sister was her best friend, I would have the most opportunities to keep an eye on her. He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t right either. I had planned to do everything in my power to maintain my distance.

  The second alarm on my phone buzzes and I check the time: 6:30 a.m. I snatch one final item off my dresser and head out of the house, crossing the street. With my spare key, I unlock Izzy’s door. Listening closely, I search for any noise but hear none and hope the girls are still asleep. Knowing my sister is just like me, an early riser, I decide to start some breakfast in her kitchen. Not just for her, but because my house is empty of food and I’m starving.

  Opening her fridge, I sigh with relief when I see she’s stocked it recently. I snag some eggs, bacon, mushrooms, spinach, and cheese, the makings for some omelets.

  I get to work at the stove making the first omelet when I hear bare footsteps enter the kitchen. I turn around, assuming it’s Izzy, but choke on my own tongue when I find Quinn standing there in nothing but an oversized gray shirt barely covering the top of her thighs.

  “Hey,” she whispers. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this early.”

  I continue to stare at her, not only because I’m surprised that she’s awake at this hour, but because she looks just as breathtaking all mussed up with alcohol-fueled sleep as she does on the infamous magazine covers she graces.

  I’m finally able to speak and I attempt to smile warmly at her, but it probably comes out as a grimace because Quinn’s face scrunches in confusion.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks.

  “Well, I’m making breakfast before I head into the office.”

  She settles in a chair at the table but keeps her gaze on me, sending spikes of adrenaline through my body.

  “Office? You work on a Saturday?”

  Plating the first two omelets, I set one in front of her and then take the seat opposite.

  “Sweetheart, I work pretty much every day.”

  “Every day?” She jabs her fork into the soft mixture of eggs and vegetables and takes a hearty bite. A moan escapes her lips as she tosses her head back in ecstasy.

  Fuck, how good would it feel to be the one to cause her to moan like that?

  “When did you learn to cook like this? I don’t remember that growing up,” Quinn asks as she takes another bite.

  “I’ve always known how. Mom said I needed to know how to be self-sufficient.”

  “Well, I can testify that Izzy can’t cook like this to save her life.”

  I laugh at her assessment, knowing she’s right. Izzy can burn water.

  “Mom gave up on her when she burned noodles in her favorite pot.” Quinn grimaces as I continue, “And to answer your question, yes, I work pretty much every day. That’s the life of a cop.”

  “Don’t you take vacations?”

  “Haven’t been able to for a while.”

  She seems to think on that for a while as silence grows in the room. I watch as she finishes her breakfast and then stands to retrieve two glasses from the cupboard, grabs the orange juice from the fridge, and pours it into the two glasses. Quinn places one glass in front of me without a word.

  “So tell me, how does a man known in Dale City as Trevor the Troublemaker become a cop?”

  “Pretty simple, if you think about it. Who better to catch a troublemaker than another troublemaker?”

  “Good point.” She nods as she finishes her juice with a final gulp, leaving a drop on the edge of her plump lip. I watch as her pink tongue peeks out of the corner to catch the escapee and then back into her mouth.

  Damn it, she’s turning me on by just drinking juice.

  “My turn. How does it feel to get everything you’ve ever dreamed of?”

  Her eyes widen in surprise, obviously not expecting the question. Luckily for her, Izzy walks in before she has a chance to respond.

  “Good morning,” Izzy rejoices as she steps over to the stove and snags the last omelet resting on the warming plate.

  “Hey, Iz.”

  “I’m surprised to see you up, Quinn. And not hungover either. Impressive.”

  “Should I be? I don’t really remember much from last night,” Quinn admits with a slight blush on her cheeks.

  Before Izzy has a chance to speak up, I say, “Well, you had four shots of tequila after a couple of margaritas and made Sidewinders your own personal dance stage last night. When we left the bar, you vomited all over the side of Wendy Smithson’s car and then promptly passed out. I carried you back to Izzy’s house and put you to bed.”

  Her eyes widen with each word until they’re as round as saucers.

  Whispering, she asks, “Who changed me?” as she looks down at the shirt barely covering her.

  I wink in her direction. “Izzy did, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

  “I’m sorry I caused such a ruckus. That man put his hands on me and I just snapped. No one seems to understand personal space anymore.”

  “What man?” Izzy and I exclaim simultaneously.

  “Just some guy from high school that took his dancing just a bit too far. I wasn’t prepared. Usually my security doesn’t let anyone within a ten-foot radius of me.”

  “I’ll repeat, what man?” My body seethes at the thought of someone we know putting his hands on her as if she is property.

  “Devin Shomaker. He was a grade above us, I believe. Please don’t do anything, Trevor. I just want to forget about it and enjoy the rest of my time here.”

  Sympathy and understanding surge through me, but I will need to check in with Devin before I can let this go. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have to constantly fight a battle for privacy. This must be part of the reason she decided to come home finally.

  “It’s fine, Quinn. We’re all allowed to break free every once in a while,” Izzy assures as she sits down with her plate.

  “Well, ladies, I’m headed to work. I’m assuming I’ll see you both for dinner tonight?”

  “Dinner?” Quinn’s blonde hair moves as she cocks her head.

  “Yes, my parents still hold Friday family dinners, but they’ve moved this one to Saturday to accommodate your arrival. You know they’ll be upset if you don’t come.”

  “You know I wouldn’t miss it. I love your family.”

  I lean down to press a kiss on Izzy’s cheek and then do the same to Quinn, reveling in the feel of her soft skin beneath my lips.

  “See y’all tonight.”

  I head back across the street with my heart pounding. I knew I was attracted to Quinn—hell, most every man on the planet is attracted to her—but I never anticipated the spark of awareness when she was around, the pulse of electricity through my veins at her touch. It would be too much for someone else, but I spent the better part of my adolescence maintaining control where Quinn was concerned.

  How hard could one more month be?

  Once I arrive at my office, my cell phone vibrates in my pocket and “Mom” flashes across the screen.

  “Well, to what do I owe this pleasure?” I declare into the receiver.

  Mom chuckles and then tsks at me. “Is it not okay for me to call my favorite son?”

  “Only son. And on a Saturday, it’s usually when you need something.”

  “That is not true!” she exclaims.

  “Mom…,” I draw out, waiting for her to explain her reasoning for calling at eight on a Saturday morning when she very well knows I’m in the office.

  “Fine. I ordered Quinn’s favorite dessert from the bakery. Could you pick it up on your way over?”

  “Boston crème pie?”

  I hadn’t indulged in a slice of that pie in ages, the taste reminding me of my own favorite morsel. When she left Dale City, so did my desire for anything that remi
nded me of her.

  “That’s it. I’m so excited to see her. It’s been far too long.”

  “Mom, you saw her on a video chat with Izzy like three weeks ago.”

  “Boy, don’t sass me. You know that isn’t the same thing as having her back home. I don’t know what changed between you two, but you were always the best of friends. You should take some time off to catch up.”

  “People grow up, Mom. And you know I’m busy right now since we’re down two officers.”

  “Excuses. Well, maybe she’ll meet a nice boy while she’s here and move back home. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  Nice? It would be fucking torture to see her prance around town with someone else.

  “Yeah, nice, Mom. Look, I need to finish up this paperwork so I can head out on time. Do you need anything else?”

  “Just the pie. We’ll see you at six.”

  Hanging up, I rest back in my chair, sighing. I’m the only one here today, the only one without a family to spend my weekends with, and that’s how I wanted it. Closing my eyes, I imagine how I would feel if Quinn moved back to Dale City, if I would be able to tolerate seeing her with another man.

  In high school, it was never an issue, Quinn had her heart and soul focused on the drama club and the theater group she participated in while I had been the one with different girlfriends every week. My crush on Quinn was a closely guarded secret that I planned on taking to the grave.

  Before I know it, the clock shows it’s well past lunchtime. Setting the files on the chief’s desk, I drive toward the bakery to pick up the pie for Quinn, then head back to my house.

  Normally I would go straight to my parents’ house in my uniform, but tonight, for some reason, I want to show Quinn what I’ve become. What she’s missed out on in the six years since we lost contact. I’m feeling spiteful after imagining her with someone else all morning. I knew she had crushed on me growing up. It was part of the reason why I needed to stay away from her as a teen, because I knew if she gave me an inch, I would’ve taken a mile. And a mile of Quinn Miller was never going to be enough.

  I tug on a fitted gray shirt that I’ve been told on numerous occasions shows off my muscles and a pair of jeans that hug my thighs. My workouts were intense, and I got gratification from the ripped muscles I sported.

  With one final look in the mirror, I grab the pie off the counter and get in the car. My parents only live about five minutes away, and when I pull into the driveway, I see my sister and Quinn have already arrived.

  Once in the house, I move toward the kitchen but the door to the powder room swings open, knocking the boxed pie into my chest.

  Quinn’s brown eyes widen in surprise and then despair as she takes in the box squished against my chest, now dripping some of its contents.

  “Trevor, I’m so sorry.”

  Seeing how upset she is, I unleash one of my signature smirks and watch as the redness rises in her cheeks.

  Leaning close to her ear, box still cradled against my chest, I whisper, “Don’t worry, Quinn. I’ve always wanted to smear your cream all over me.”

  The gasp that sounds at my retreat is all I need to know that Ms. Movie Star isn’t as completely unaffected by me as she seems.

  Chapter Four

  Quinn

  OH MY GOSH. OH my gosh. Oh my gosh, I chant in my head as I watch Trevor’s retreating back. A well-muscled retreating back.

  I thought my feelings for him would’ve receded with time and distance, but that obviously isn’t the case. Everything seems ten times more heightened since I saw him in the kitchen this morning. My heart didn’t stop pounding for almost an hour after he left, like the crazed thirteen-year-old I used to be.

  And if what he whispered in my ear is any indication, then he knows how I used to feel about him, and may have even reciprocated those feelings.

  Izzy bumps into me in the hallway. “Your face is all flushed. Are you feeling okay?”

  “Yes, it… um… must be the heat. I’m still adjusting to the humidity.”

  She must buy my tale because she skirts past me into the kitchen, where I quickly follow. As we enter, I hear the bit of conversation between Trevor and his mom.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I tripped coming in the house.”

  Is he taking the blame? I’m the one who slammed into him leaving the bathroom.

  “Well, shoot. That’s okay, honey.”

  “Did you want me to run out and grab another? I can even get a police escort. It is an emergency, after all.”

  Mrs. Shaw’s light chuckle joins my own.

  “You don’t need to do that. I just wanted Quinn’s welcome home to be a special one.”

  And if my heart wasn’t already beating wildly, it is now. His mother has always treated me better than my own, and the fact that she wants to make my short visit special speaks volumes about the wonderful woman she is.

  “Why don’t you grab a clean shirt from the laundry room? I’m sure I still have a few.”

  I try to move, but not quickly enough because I come face-to-face with an exiting Trevor as he removes his shirt. I struggle to catch my breath as I watch each of his muscles bend and flex when he lifts the cotton over his head and releases his arms back to his side.

  Wow, Trevor Shaw has grown into quite a man. He had always been a bit more developed than the other boys in high school, but this takes it to a whole new level. He doesn’t have an ounce of fat on his body. I’ve been around some of the men who are considered the most beautiful in the world, but they don’t hold a candle to Trevor.

  Suddenly he walks up to me and crosses his arms.

  “Like what you see, sweetheart?”

  I swallow loudly, but no words come. For some reason, my comprehension flies out the window whenever Trevor tries to speak to me.

  He smirks. “I’ll be right back. Have to go change my shirt.”

  “Uh-huh. I’ll… um… save you a seat.”

  He chuckles as he walks past me, his arm rubbing against my own, and I have to fight the urge to run my hand up his muscled chest.

  And then I think about what I said. “Save you a seat?” It’s his parents’ freaking home. I’m an idiot.

  With my nerves at an all-time high, I rush through the kitchen into the formal dining room and take the seat that was always reserved for me during my visits while in school.

  “Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Shaw.”

  “Now don’t you start that again. It took me three years to break that habit the first time. My name is Sue, and I expect you to call me by that name.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Now everyone load their plates. Tonight we’re having Quinn’s favorite. Welcome home, honey.”

  “Pot roast?”

  “Yes, and all the fixings.”

  My mouth instantly waters, and I don’t have to be told twice. I dive into the serving dish in front of me and load my plate full of roast, potatoes, and vegetables.

  It all looks amazing, but it doesn’t compare to the man who saunters into the dining room, black shirt now encasing his chest. His hair looks damp, as if he’s wet his hands and run them through the strands. He strolls closer toward me and I practically choke on the carrot I just placed in my mouth. I have to cough a few times to dislodge the offensive vegetable as he takes the open seat next to me. Something I had failed to notice.

  “You okay, sweetheart?” he asks.

  I nod furiously and decide that the best plan of action to get through this dinner is to keep feeding myself as much food as possible. I barely take a breath as I finish my plate in rapid speed.

  A hand brushes against my bare legs below my skirt’s hem.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper-shout as Trevor bends down, his knuckles trailing down my calf, and then repeats the movement as he rises.

  “Sorry, I dropped my napkin,” he explains as he situates the cloth on his lap.

  Before I can say any more, he winks at me and then starts eating.

 
; “This dinner’s lovely, Mrs.… I mean Sue.”

  “Thank you, dear. It’s so wonderful to have you home. Have you given any thought to moving back permanently? I know Izzy would love to have you close by once again.”

  My heart starts racing for a different reason. I hate letting people down, but my life is in LA. My career and my friends—well, the few I have.

  Few? Ha. The one friend I have.

  “Well, I, um….”

  “Mom, don’t go putting her on the spot. She has a great career, and living in LA makes it easier, I’m sure. Give her a break,” Trevor chimes in, and I glance over my shoulder at him in awe.

  I had expected for their mom and Izzy to push the issue until I promised more visits, something to appease them, but he shut them down without a thought.

  “Thank you,” I mouth, and he replies with a nod.

  “Tell us what you plan to do while you’re here,” Jake, Izzy and Trevor’s father, inquires.

  “Well, I have a script to work on. It’s a romantic comedy, so it’s a bit different than the dramatic roles I’ve done in the past. Actually, do you all know if Mr. Timmons still runs the drama department at the high school?”

  A clanking noise interrupts my thoughts, and I watch as Trevor’s fork clinks against the plate, following his knife. He glares daggers at his sister.

  “You didn’t tell her?”

  “Tell me what?”

  Izzy wipes her mouth with her napkin. “I’m sorry. You told me not to mention anything about home.”

  “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

  “The entire Arts department at the high school was shut down due to budget cuts about four years ago. Mr. Timmons moved to Georgia with his wife not long after,” Trevor explains.

  “So there is no drama department in Dale City?”

  He shakes his head and my heart drops. I never imagined that they would cut the program from the schools. It always had a large group of dedicated students, and when I attended, we raised all of our own funds.