Baby: A Linear Tactical Romantic Suspense Standalone Read online

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t get fired. I’m still working on my silver medal in bad waitressing. I was going to go out to dinner in Reddington City, but I changed my mind and ended up here,” she gestured down to the shot glasses. “Drinking tequila.”

  “Any special occasion?”

  “I was going to drink thirty-nine shots but decided that was an asinine idea.”

  He nearly spewed his water as he chuckled. “Wow. Thirty-nine is quite a lot. Any particular reason?”

  She pointed to the Fancy Pants Bakery box surrounded by the shot glasses. “To go with my cupcake.”

  “Tequila shots and cupcakes? Quite the unusual combination.”

  Her face fell. “I know. They’re both stupid.”

  “Whoa, not stupid. Just...an unusual pairing.”

  “It’s my birthday,” she finally said without looking up at him.

  There it was.

  Baby wanted to reach out and touch that soft strand of hair that always seemed determined to escape her bun. Someone like Quinn shouldn’t be in a dive like Bandits on her birthday. If she wanted to drink tequila shots and eat cupcakes, she should be doing it with friends.

  Evidently, she didn’t have that right now for whatever reason.

  He could damn well be her friend.

  He reached over and flicked her hand softly. “Sounds like it’s my lucky day. I get to be part of the birthday celebration. Let me guess: thirty-nine shots for your thirty-ninth birthday?”

  “Yes. It seemed appropriate.” She sat back against the booth and shrugged. “I’ll bet you haven’t had a thirty-ninth birthday.”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “I’ll bet you haven’t had a thirtieth birthday.”

  He knew enough about women to know he was in dangerous territory. “Guilty as charged. I’m twenty-seven.”

  She picked up one of the shot glasses next to the cupcake box and swallowed the contents quickly, making the most adorable post-shot face. “That’s definitely not surety-nine.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Is this where you tell me that age is just a number?” She arched an eyebrow.

  God, he wanted to kiss this woman. “I could tell you that, but I’d rather you hand me one of those shots. If we’re going to get through thirty-nine, it’s going to take a while.”

  Fortunately, that distracted her from the topic of age. As far as he was concerned, she was as sexy as she’d been two minutes ago before he knew how old she was. Age was just a number, and not one he’d ever been particularly concerned about.

  “You like tequila?”

  “I like drinking tequila with beautiful women who are drinking tequila.”

  She narrowed those brown eyes at him like she was trying to figure out his endgame. “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me, B–A–B–Y, Baby.”

  He ignored that statement and picked up a shot and tossed it back, gritting his teeth at the bite. “Jesus. What kind of well-brand-shit tequila is that?”

  “I don’t know. I just told the bartender I wanted thirty-nine shots of tequila. He said to start with five, and we could go from there.”

  Baby smiled. Josh was a good man. “Next time you plan to go on a tequila bender, order Patron or something that doesn’t burn your esophagus all the way out.”

  She nodded, looking like she was mentally filing that away for future usage. She was also leaning a little bit to the side. Time to try to ease her away from the shots and closer to the Palomas, or better still, the water.

  “So.” He slid the larger glasses toward her. “You didn’t make it out to dinner?”

  She shook her head slowly. “No. I didn’t want to eat by myself, so I came here.”

  Tequila on an empty stomach. That wasn’t the best.

  “Why don’t you drink a little water, then you can eat some cupcake.”

  She took a sip. “You don’t think cupcakes are immature?”

  She looked so serious when she asked the question, but he still couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh. “What kind of moron thinks cupcakes are immature? Cupcakes are proof that God really loves us.”

  She studied him for a minute, her head tilted to the side before a smile lit up her entire face.

  God damn. It was nothing short of breathtaking. He wanted to make it his life’s mission to put that smile on her face as often as possible.

  He realized she really had expected him to mock her for wanting to eat a cupcake on her birthday. That was ridiculous.

  “What are you waiting for, birthday girl? Open that sucker up.” He pointed at the box.

  She slid her nail under the Fancy Pants sticker on the box and slid it open. She pulled out a cupcake piled high with light pink frosting and dark pink sprinkles, glancing at him apologetically. “It’s pink...”

  He winked at her. “Perfect. It matches the Palomas.”

  She set the cupcake down on a napkin. “I don’t have a fork.”

  “A fork?” He rolled his eyes. “Woman, give me the cupcake.”

  He grabbed it and peeled the wrapper. The cake part was chocolate, and the light pink icing looked doubly delectable against the darker base.

  He held up the cupcake in front of her mouth. “You don’t need a fork, just jump right in.”

  He wasn’t sure she would bite it, and he told himself he’d get her a fork if she really wanted one. Even tipsy, he’d never met someone more likely to eat a cupcake with a fork than Quinn.

  But he was caught off guard when she grabbed his wrist to hold his hand steady and took a mouthful of the treat.

  Hell if that wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He was way more aroused than he should be.

  The look of utter joy that fell over her features as she leaned back from his outstretched hand—lips, chin, and the tip of her nose now sporting pink frosting—didn’t dampen his arousal.

  Her eyes closed in bliss and her tongue darted out to capture whatever she’d missed and drag it into her mouth. He was pretty sure he was going to have the imprint of his zipper on his dick for a week.

  Jesus. Thirty-nine had never ever looked so good.

  “Taste good?” The words came out so strangled, he had to clear his throat and start again. “Looks like cupcakes work fine with tequila after all.”

  Her brown eyes opened but still had a dreamy quality to them. She stuck her face forward again toward the cupcake and took another bite. “I love cupcakes. I used to bake them all the time as a kid. I’d forgotten how good they are.”

  “Why’d you stop baking them?”

  “Because they’re childish and ridiculous.”

  Those weren’t her words. There was no way she could believe that with that sheer look of delight on her face. Someone had convinced her of it.

  “Doesn’t look childish to me.” The very opposite actually. She wasn’t doing anything but enjoying herself—savoring every taste and texture of the treat—but it was the most sensual thing he’d ever seen.

  She grabbed the cupcake out of his hand and turned it toward him. “Want a bite?”

  More than a bite, sweetheart. I’d like to consume you whole.

  But he took a bite of the cupcake. It was delicious. Not surprising, Violet Collingwood, the computer engineer turned baker, had never made anything less than delicious.

  Quinn giggled. This prim, put-together woman giggled. “You have frosting on your lip.”

  She watched with wide-eyed and breathless anticipation as he licked the frosting off his lip with his tongue, which definitely wasn’t helping his erection problem. At least she was also affected by this heat between them.

  “You have some icing on your face, too.”

  “I do?” She set down the cupcake and traced her fingers across her bottom lip.

  Baby barely swallowed a groan as she tried to get the frosting, but only succeeded in smearing it around with her fingers. He wanted to lick it off.

  With most women he’d think it was a deliberat
e measure of seduction and would appreciate the effort. But Quinn was just trying to get the frosting off her lips and making even more of a beautiful mess.

  “Did I get it?”

  There was still frosting on her chin and nose. “Eat the rest of your cupcake, birthday girl.”

  She gobbled the rest of it, enjoying it as much as she had the first bite. There was a tiny piece left when she finally remembered he was there.

  She held the mashed portion out to him, cheeks as pink as the frosting in adorable embarrassment. “Uh, do you want some?”

  “I wouldn’t dare deny you your last bite.”

  He laughed as she stuffed it into her mouth like she was worried he might change his mind. Then she grimaced as she reached for a tequila shot and washed down the cupcake.

  So much for wanting her to sober up. At least it was the Patron this time.

  She still made a face as she set the shot glass back down. “That doesn’t taste any different than the other shots.”

  “By shot number five, everything tastes the same.”

  He sighed inwardly. She was now officially past the point where he was going to be able to do anything about his cupcake-induced hard-on. She needed someone to take care of her and he could do that.

  The thought of one of the other guys here at Bandits taking care of Quinn upset him way more than it should have. In general, the people around here were friendly and hospitable. This was western Wyoming, where even the big cities were relatively small.

  He didn’t think any of the guys here would actually hurt Quinn, but they damned well would make themselves friendly and hospitable if she so much as glanced their way with frosting still dotting her nose and chin.

  Baby didn’t judge if a woman walked into a bar with the sole purpose of picking up a man for a good time. Hell, he’d been that man more than once.

  But if Quinn was doing that, he was going to be at the front of the line.

  The music changed on the speakers and a country artist started crooning about slow hands.

  He reached over and swiped a tiny piece of frosting from her chin with his finger and brought it to his lips. “Come on, Cupcake. Let’s dance.”

  The room was spinning.

  Partially because of the tequila, but mostly because Baby was twirling her around on the dance floor.

  Quinn wasn’t a dancer. She definitely hadn’t danced during her ten years of marriage to Peter and had been too busy with her studies and working to do much dancing before that.

  But this was fun.

  Everything with Baby was fun.

  The dance floor was packed. Quinn wasn’t so drunk that she didn’t realize that Baby was a big part of that.

  He was quite the dancer. It was obvious that he definitely had danced in the past ten years. Regularly. He moved around her, smiling, singing occasional lyrics, pulling her close when she least expected it.

  More and more people had joined them on the dance floor. Slow songs or fast ones, country music or rock, it didn’t seem to matter. Everyone just wanted to have a good time.

  And Baby was the ringleader.

  Everything about him was infectious. He drew out the joy in people, and Quinn was quick to fall under his spell. When some song about a house party started blaring out of the speakers, everyone cheered and danced harder.

  Quinn did what she never did, she shut off her mind and went with it. She closed her eyes and laughed, jumping and twirling like everyone else.

  Who cared if she was thirty-nine and probably the oldest person in here? She was having fun.

  A few seconds later, she found herself yanked against a hard chest. She opened her eyes to find Baby’s green ones staring down at her. One of his arms was wrapped around her waist, his other hand captured one of hers and pulled it to his chest.

  “I like seeing you smile,” he whispered in her ear. “I get the feeling you haven’t done it enough.”

  She couldn’t help it, she smiled again. “Must be the cupcake.”

  “Then we’ll have to get you one every single day.”

  She didn’t answer. She slid an arm around his waist to hold him close as they swayed slowly while everyone else danced to the upbeat music around them.

  Cupcakes weren’t part of her daily life, and neither was Baby.

  But tonight, they were.

  She danced. She wasn’t sure how long they were out on the dance floor. All she knew was she was having the best time she could remember in...

  Ever.

  Chapter Six

  Baby had thought that Quinn eating the cupcake was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He might have been wrong.

  Quinn on the dance floor, smiling and shaking her hips to the beat like she couldn’t quite help herself, was right up there with the cupcake.

  Baby liked dancing. A dance floor was always filled with people having a good time—definitely true here tonight. But more, he was glad for the excuse to have Quinn close to him, to look into those brown eyes and dance slow every chance he got.

  He knew when her buzz started to wear off a couple of hours later. She’d finished the Paloma between songs, but then he’d switched her to water without her noticing. He’d done enough fun drinking nights to know that the scale could tip quickly into not-so-fun territory if you weren’t careful.

  Another reason you shouldn’t drink alone.

  When he could tell she was getting self-conscious on the dance floor, he knew sober Quinn was starting to make an appearance.

  He pulled her close for one last dance as the music slowed once again. She fit herself against him the way she had for the other songs. He slid his arm around her waist and closed his eyes as he breathed in the scent of her hair.

  Just dancing and being with her was enough. Knowing that there wouldn’t be more tonight was okay too. He didn’t need sex. He liked the intimacy.

  “I think it’s about time to get you home,” he said as the song neared its end. “I’ll drive you. I know you’re not feeling as tipsy, but you still can’t drive.”

  “I was going to call an Uber.”

  They did have Ubers out here, but hell if he was putting her in some stranger’s car.

  “How about I’ll be your personal Uber driver tonight? I’ll grab one of the guys from town to make sure your car gets to you safe.”

  In thirty minutes, she’d be sobered up enough to argue with him, but right now, she couldn’t quite find the words, so thankfully, she merely nodded.

  He got her out to his truck and stood next to her as she stopped to study it.

  Studying was her way, he was coming to realize. It seemed she liked time to process and understand things. He was similar in some ways. When it came to engines, mechanics, or building plans, he liked to immerse himself also.

  But his truck wasn’t much to look at. He kept it more out of sentimental value than anything else. He’d bought it as his first vehicle in high school and had rebuilt the engine himself twice. His truck may not look like much, but it had quite a bit of talent under the hood.

  “You okay?” he finally asked when she stood there staring for too long. Maybe he’d misjudged and the alcohol was making her feel sick.

  “I’ve never ridden in a truck before. We had trucks in Cambridge, but my friends never drove one.”

  There was so much he didn’t know about her. “What did your friends drive?”

  She shrugged. “Mostly Mercedes, BMWs.”

  He glanced around the parking lot. A car like that would be pretty noticeable in this crowd, not to mention probably shouldn’t be left here overnight. But he couldn’t see one anywhere.

  “Where are your keys, Cupcake? What kind of car do you have—Mercedes or BMW?”

  She pulled her keys out of her purse and handed them to him. “1996 Ford Fiesta.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him as if daring him to mock her or demand why she was driving that vehicle.

  And he had to admit, a Ford Fiesta was not what he would’ve pegged as
little miss I-drink-Cabernet-Sauvignon-even-though-I-don’t-like-it’s vehicle. And she knew it.

  She was one of those puzzle boxes with lots of false clues and mysteries at every twist. Never simple to figure out, but worth the challenge.

  He couldn’t help himself; he reached down and grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted her head up so he could kiss her.

  He knew he couldn’t possibly taste the sweetness of the icing on her lips after all the dancing and drinks she’d had. But damned if he could convince his brain of that.

  He wanted to keep kissing her. Wanted to scoot her up against the truck and kiss her until neither of them could remember their names.

  And that was the reason he forced himself to stop. Because he wanted it so badly, and because it wouldn’t take much to forget her name, considering he didn’t know it in its entirety.

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “You going to tell me your last name, Quinn?”

  She smiled, but it was a little stiff. “And what if I don’t have a last name?”

  He stepped back and grinned. “Like Rihanna or Prince? You’re just Quinn?”

  She smiled up at him. “That’s right. I’m mysterious.”

  He opened and held the door for her and helped her climb into the high cab of his truck, lifting her at the waist, loving the way her soft body felt in his hands.

  “Okay, mysterious birthday girl, you get a last name pass for today, but don’t think I’m going to be letting it go.”

  He closed the door and walked around the truck to his side. The fact that she wouldn’t tell him her name could mean a couple of things—either that he would recognize it or that she wanted to make sure no one could provide too much information about her. He honestly had no idea which. He wasn’t going to overthink it tonight; he was just going to get the birthday girl home all in one piece.

  He glanced over at her as he started the engine. She had pulled on her seatbelt, but then had tucked herself into the corner where the seat met the door, shifting her hips so she was almost facing him. Her fist tucked up next to her cheek as she rested her head against it and studied him.