but since I plan on doing it again, I thought I should ask you . . .” The kiss had helped Quinn decide that ignoring what was between them wasn’t working. So why not let the attraction play out until it was done once and for all?
“I’m surprised you lived to talk about it,” Greer said. “But, ask me? So, if I have a problem with it—”
“Okay. Fine. I’m telling you I’m going to make a move on your sister. Is this going to be a problem for you?” Quinn crossed his arms and waited for her answer.
“Heck, no. But, I don’t want to see you floundering again when she shoots you down.” She shook her head. “That was ugly.”
“I did not ‘flounder.’ I might have been bucked out of the saddle, but I got up and moved on,” he said, pointing a finger at her.
“Rode other horses? So to speak.” Greer looked like she was having too much fun at his expense.
Fine. He could take it. “We’re going with a cowboy analogy here? Right. It’s looking like I might just be a one-horse cowboy, and I’m gonna try one more time to saddle this wild horse.”
“Well, giddy up. Just remember Delaney’s in a bad place right now.” She got up from the table, taking the stack of cake dishes to the sink.
“Believe me, I know.”
“But, Quinn, it’s more than you know. She was—”
“Greer, I’ve worked lots of car crashes. Cops handle trauma. It’s our job. They make us take classes and everything. I’ve got this. And now that we’re about to put Mama Cates on the case . . .”
“Have I told you how much I hate it when you use your ‘cop voice’ on me? I know it works magic calming down old ladies who’ve lost their cats, but it only pisses me off.” Greer’s gaze raked over him. “Okay, cowboy. Call your mom. I’ll let Delaney know we’re heading out.”
Maybe he had a way of coming in and taking over, but over the years he’d found confidence and calmness in the face of calamity created trust. People trusted him and let him help carry their burdens. That helped him be a better cop and friend. Heck, hadn’t Greer asked him to get Delaney home because she’d had no doubt he would?
He might have messed up this time though. He got the sense Greer had been about to tell him something important, but then he’d opened his mouth and Officer Cates had “soothed” her. Fine. Maybe it was the cop in him. Or habit from years of avoiding talking about Delaney. When you’re fighting a fire, you cut off what feeds it.
“Speaking of calling, your phone’s dead. Any chance you didn’t pay your bill or your cable’s out?”
Greer shook her head. “I paid my bill and I don’t have cable.”
“Damn.” Quinn pulled his cell phone from his back pocket.
“No. No ‘damn.’ We don’t have time for ‘damn.’ We’ve got to go talk with your mom.”
“I’m going to check your phone line out back, then call this in. It’s possible whoever dropped off the cake cut the phone lines. We’re making time for ‘damn.’ ‘Damn’ just moved to the top of our list. We need to find out who’s trying to scare Delaney into leaving town.”
Chapter Seven
T he physical therapy table would have been a great place to nap—if it weren’t for the physical therapist from hell pulling, bending, and banging on her body as if this session was make or break. Greer had been working on her for thirty minutes now, but no matter how much it hurt, Delaney was determined not to complain. She’d worried Greer enough. For the next few weeks she’d be all “Yes, Greer” and “Whatever you say, Greer” until the worried frown was off her face.
“Do you know if Quinn has any information on yesterday’s message cake?”
“No, and I don’t want to talk about it.” Of course, she hadn’t answered her phone when he called. She’d let it go right to voice mail like all her other phone calls. Huh, that sucker was probably full by now. Oh well, the best way to deal with each new stress was to not deal
“I’m surprised you lived to talk about it,” Greer said. “But, ask me? So, if I have a problem with it—”
“Okay. Fine. I’m telling you I’m going to make a move on your sister. Is this going to be a problem for you?” Quinn crossed his arms and waited for her answer.
“Heck, no. But, I don’t want to see you floundering again when she shoots you down.” She shook her head. “That was ugly.”
“I did not ‘flounder.’ I might have been bucked out of the saddle, but I got up and moved on,” he said, pointing a finger at her.
“Rode other horses? So to speak.” Greer looked like she was having too much fun at his expense.
Fine. He could take it. “We’re going with a cowboy analogy here? Right. It’s looking like I might just be a one-horse cowboy, and I’m gonna try one more time to saddle this wild horse.”
“Well, giddy up. Just remember Delaney’s in a bad place right now.” She got up from the table, taking the stack of cake dishes to the sink.
“Believe me, I know.”
“But, Quinn, it’s more than you know. She was—”
“Greer, I’ve worked lots of car crashes. Cops handle trauma. It’s our job. They make us take classes and everything. I’ve got this. And now that we’re about to put Mama Cates on the case . . .”
“Have I told you how much I hate it when you use your ‘cop voice’ on me? I know it works magic calming down old ladies who’ve lost their cats, but it only pisses me off.” Greer’s gaze raked over him. “Okay, cowboy. Call your mom. I’ll let Delaney know we’re heading out.”
Maybe he had a way of coming in and taking over, but over the years he’d found confidence and calmness in the face of calamity created trust. People trusted him and let him help carry their burdens. That helped him be a better cop and friend. Heck, hadn’t Greer asked him to get Delaney home because she’d had no doubt he would?
He might have messed up this time though. He got the sense Greer had been about to tell him something important, but then he’d opened his mouth and Officer Cates had “soothed” her. Fine. Maybe it was the cop in him. Or habit from years of avoiding talking about Delaney. When you’re fighting a fire, you cut off what feeds it.
“Speaking of calling, your phone’s dead. Any chance you didn’t pay your bill or your cable’s out?”
Greer shook her head. “I paid my bill and I don’t have cable.”
“Damn.” Quinn pulled his cell phone from his back pocket.
“No. No ‘damn.’ We don’t have time for ‘damn.’ We’ve got to go talk with your mom.”
“I’m going to check your phone line out back, then call this in. It’s possible whoever dropped off the cake cut the phone lines. We’re making time for ‘damn.’ ‘Damn’ just moved to the top of our list. We need to find out who’s trying to scare Delaney into leaving town.”
Chapter Seven
T he physical therapy table would have been a great place to nap—if it weren’t for the physical therapist from hell pulling, bending, and banging on her body as if this session was make or break. Greer had been working on her for thirty minutes now, but no matter how much it hurt, Delaney was determined not to complain. She’d worried Greer enough. For the next few weeks she’d be all “Yes, Greer” and “Whatever you say, Greer” until the worried frown was off her face.
“Do you know if Quinn has any information on yesterday’s message cake?”
“No, and I don’t want to talk about it.” Of course, she hadn’t answered her phone when he called. She’d let it go right to voice mail like all her other phone calls. Huh, that sucker was probably full by now. Oh well, the best way to deal with each new stress was to not deal
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