At First Touch by Tamara Sneed Page A

used to Wyatt’s moods.”
    â€œMoods?” Dorrie repeated hesitantly.
    â€œQuinn,” Wyatt said, a little louder this time. Quinn sent him another innocent smile. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œWyatt, I’m not sure I like your tone,” Dorrie said, sounding offended on Quinn’s behalf.
    Quinn bit her bottom lip to hide her smile from Dorrie, but she didn’t hide the twinkle of amusement in her eyes as she turned to Wyatt.
    Dorrie sent Wyatt a death stare, then smiled at Quinn. “I apologize for Wyatt’s behavior. You’re obviously here for lunch and just stopped by to say hello. That’s very nice—”
    â€œI’m not here for lunch, unless they’ve changed the menu to include items that don’t automatically turn you into a cow,” Quinn said, then turned to Wyatt with a lovestruck look in her eyes. She placed a hand on his arm. “I came here because I heard that Wyatt would be here. He and I had a small argument this morning and I wanted to apologize.”
    Wyatt could almost hear some cheesy soap opera music playing in the background. He glanced at Dorrie. She looked as if she had swallowed something distasteful. And Wyatt instantly knew what Quinn’s little show was about.
    Wyatt narrowed his eyes at Quinn, who blinked at him. He moved his arm from her touch. “Apology accepted, Quinn. You can go now.”
    â€œWill I see you later tonight?” Quinn waited a dramatic beat, then added, “When Graham and Charlie get here.”
    â€œQuinn, we’ll talk later,” he replied tightly. “You can go. Now.
    Quinn jumped from the booth, pulling down the skirt that had ridden up her thighs. Then he got distracted by the fishnets. He gulped. Hard.
    Quinn avoided his eyes and smiled at Dorrie, who was looking at Quinn as if she wasn’t her favorite soap actress anymore.
    â€œDorrie, it was wonderful to meet you. Maybe we can get together and I’ll give you more dirt about the show.”
    Dorrie murmured noncommittally, then sent Quinn a wan smile. Quinn glanced at Wyatt, then quickly turned and nearly ran out the diner. Wyatt would have felt some satisfaction, but Dorrie was looking at him with a strange expression. Two steps forward and twelve steps back.
    â€œCan we go?” Dorrie asked, glancing around the diner for the owner, Annie. “I have a client coming at one-thirty.”
    â€œOf course.” Wyatt pulled out his wallet, dug out enough cash to cover the bill and stood.
    He offered his hand to Dorrie, but she ignored it and stood on her own. She grabbed her coat from the booth, then walked out the diner without another glance in Wyatt’s direction.
    â€œNice going, Wyatt,” someone yelled out dryly.
    Wyatt ignored the catcalls that followed and shrugged into his own coat before he hurried out the diner after her. Dorrie was already halfway down the street to her office. He ran to catch up with her.
    Quinn had said that it wasn’t over, and obviously it wasn’t. She was now determined to ruin his life.
    â€œDorrie, wait,” he said, grabbing her arm.
    They stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. The withering look Dorrie gave his hand on her arm made him quickly release her. She relaxed a fraction, then glanced around Main Street. Thankfully, the street was almost deserted. Most people had gone back to their ranches, farms or stores. The lunch hour—as much as there was one in Sibleyville—was over.
    â€œI told you that I have an appointment,” Dorrie said stiffly.
    â€œI’m sorry about that,” he said, motioning back toward the diner. “Quinn and I had a little argument this morning when she stopped by the house—uninvited, I might add—and that’s all. There was nothing more to it.”
    â€œQuinn’s reaction to you didn’t seem like nothing,” Dorrie said quietly, avoiding his eyes.
    â€œQuinn is an