At First Touch (25 page)

Six weeks later

“T
a-da! What do you think?” Quinn asked Charlie as she dramatically motioned around the one-bedroom apartment.

Charlie glanced around the beige walls, beige carpet and—even—beige chair in the center of the living room, then at the kitchen only two steps away and turned to Quinn. “I think you should stay in the pool house.”

Quinn laughed and walked into the kitchen where she was unpacking the last of her stuff—a box of pots and pans. Not that she had any use for them since she never cooked, but Charlie had insisted on giving them to her for her new apartment. Her new apartment in North Hollywood. Quinn shuddered in disgust just thinking of the name of her city. She never thought she would be a resident of the San Fernando Valley, that sprawling metropolis over the mountain from the heart of Los Angeles where most out-of-work actors and actresses lived in cookie-cutter apartments, instead of flea-infested slums in the heart of Los Angeles.

But Quinn was being an adult. She couldn't stay in Charlie's pool house, mooching off Charlie and Graham, and she couldn't pretend that she didn't like cleanliness. So she had compromised and moved to the Valley. Her guest role on her friend's sitcom had turned into a multi-episode story line and Quinn finally had an agent. Her agent had just been an intern less than four weeks ago, but Natalie believed in Quinn. Natalie was much too green to lie convincingly yet, so Quinn believed her.

Charlie moved to the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. “I don't understand why you're moving. Graham and I love having you around.”

“I appreciate it, Charlie, but I have to stand on my own two feet. I'm getting a fairly steady paycheck from the sitcom, and there's the promise of more work. Doors are still closing in my face, but not quite with the same gusto.”

Charlie studied her for a moment, then said begrudgingly, “All right, if this is what you want.”

“It is,” Quinn said firmly, then laughed. “The place is a dump, isn't it?”

Charlie laughed then set down her purse and suit jacket. “All it needs is a little TLC. We'll hang some pictures, get some more furniture from the pool house and…plants. Lots of plants.”

Quinn's smile faded. Wyatt. As usual, the little burst of pain at the thought of him exploded in her heart. She had thought it would have faded by now, but it hadn't.

It had been six weeks. He hadn't called, written, e-mailed. Nothing. He obviously had forgotten about her, probably moved on to Dorrie again. Quinn had gone through the stages of anger, sadness, back to anger and now she was just numb. She went through her day, did her job, laughed with newfound friends and her sister. She even had gone on a date that had ended in total disaster when she had burst into tears in the middle of the meal after noticing a vase of tulips on the table.

Nothing was the same without Wyatt. And no matter how tried, she could not stop thinking about him, dreaming about him. Nights were particularly cruel. Because then she had uninterrupted time to think about every kiss and every touch. The way he had felt in her mouth, blanketing her. She had never felt more lonely in her life.

“I saw a nursery on my way over here,” Charlie was saying, oblivious to Quinn's musings as she opened another box on the counter. “In the Miracle Mile. On the corner of La Brea and 3rd Street.”

Quinn forced herself to focus on the conversation. “The Miracle Mile? In Sunday traffic, it'll take me an hour to get there. There's probably a closer nursery around here.”

“This nursery was advertising a bunch of specials,” Charlie said. “I think you'll be able to find some really good deals.”

“I'm tired. I'll go later this week.”

“You have to go today,” Charlie insisted. “The deals will probably be over after the weekend and on your budget you can't afford to pass this up. What do you say?”

Quinn sighed, annoyed, and glared at her sister. “You're not going to let this go, are you?”

Charlie dangled car keys from her hand. “I brought Graham's Porsche. I'll even let you drive.”

Quinn snatched the car keys and forced a smile because she knew Charlie expected it. “Let's go.”

An hour and a half later, Charlie pulled into the dirt parking lot of a nursery. Or what appeared to be the beginning stages of a nursery. Wooden beams lay in the parking lot, while their counterparts hung in half-finished arrangements around the giant lot, supported by scaffolding and ladders. Work tables were littered throughout the space, and the lone building on the property was chained closed and had several broken windows.

She saw row after row of green plants and colorful flowers on one side of the lot, but the other side of the lot was completely empty, as if waiting for more flowers.

Quinn looked at Charlie, who appeared unfazed by the condition of the place, and stood from the car.

“Charlie, I don't think anyone is here,” Quinn said.

“Of course—” The sound of Charlie's ringing telephone had her digging around in her purse. She flipped it open. “This is Charlie Forbes.” There was a long pause, then Charlie motioned for Quinn to walk into the nursery as she said, “Hello, Mrs. DeGault. Yes, we received the shipment of your collection, and we are greatly indebted to you.”

Quinn ignored Charlie's droning and walked through the open fence into the nursery. Broken glass and pebbles crunched under her flip-flops as she glanced around. She fingered the petal of a red tulip sitting on the edge of a row of tulips.

“Hello,” she called out.

No answer. She frowned and turned back to the parking lot. Charlie was nowhere in sight. Quinn muttered a curse about seriously deluded sisters, then started deeper into the nursery toward the tree plants in the back. There were beautiful and green. Exactly what she needed in her apartment.

And then she stopped in her tracks because she saw a large sign propped on the fence. The type of sign that the owner would no doubt display on the outside of the building once he opened the nursery for business. On a white board, in professionally blocked black letters, it read,
Quinn's Place
.

“It took me a long time to come up with a name, but I finally decided on that one because I wanted everyone to know that no matter where your filming took you, that you'd always have this place to come back to and call your home,” said a deep, familiar voice behind her.

Quinn briefly closed her eyes as goose bumps covered her entire body in one rush of emotion. Wyatt. She didn't want to see him. She was aching to see him. Her body trembled as she turned to face him, and she instantly inhaled. He was gorgeous. Standing in blue jeans, a dirty white T-shirt and a baseball cap, he was beautiful and tall and strong. Just like in her dreams. Only better. Her body cried out for him, and she almost took a step toward him before she realized what she was doing.

Her stomach dropped, and she thought that she would, too, but only pride kept her standing. Pride, and the fact that body was frozen in place from sheer shock at seeing him in the middle of Los Angeles. It had been six weeks since she had last seen him, and it had felt like a lifetime. Her body cried at her to run to him, but she only stood in her spot, staring at him. Wanting him with every fiber of her being. It should have been illegal to want someone this much, especially when that person didn't want her.

But he was here. In L.A. With a nursery. That had to mean something.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered.

Wyatt closed the distance between them and stared at her expectantly. She hadn't forgotten how he looked at her as if he wanted to devour every inch of her, but that didn't make the effect even less overpowering.

“Isn't it obvious, Quinn? I came for you. I love you.”

She shook her head, the anger finally kicking in. “No,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “You can't just show up after all this time and expect to pick up where we left off. You gave up on us first, remember?”

He stepped closer and framed her face with his hands. At his touch, the flood dam broke, and tears rolled down her cheeks. “I remember, and I have regretted every word I've said since that night. I never should have doubted you, doubted your love.”

She jerked away from his touch, hating that he was saying everything, she had been wanting him to say for six weeks. “You should have called before you did all this.”

Wyatt's expression fell, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I thought you'd hang up on me.”

“And you would have been right,” she retorted. She looked around the nursery in amazement, seeing it in a new light, now that she knew it was his. She had never seen anything more beautiful. “Did you really buy this place?”

“Lock, stock and barrel.” He laughed. ‘The ink is barely dry on the ownership papers.”

“What about the funeral home? What about your mother?”

“Mom and I finally accepted that we were the worst funeral home owners this state has ever seen. We sold it. She moved in with Angus—”

“
Angus Affleck?
Lance's friend?”

Wyatt smiled slightly and her heart dipped. She had missed the smile so much. “Angus Affleck. They're getting married next month.”

“So, you moved to L.A. just like that?” she asked, shaking her head.

“Just like that,” he agreed, staring at her. “Although I'm still living I a rental unit.”

“But what if I'm involved with someone else? What if I'm on the verge of moving to Paris for a three-month movie shoot? What if I never want to see you again?” she demanded.

“Then I'd wait,” he said simply.

She snorted in disbelief. “You'd wait?”

“I'd wait,” he repeated, then once more closed the distance between them. This time, he didn't touch her, but she could tell that he longed to because she wanted the same thing. The two of them never could be close to each other without touching. “These past six weeks, I've done a lot of thinking. I didn't want to just show up here with nothing to offer you. I want to be the man you think I am. Part of it was getting rid of the mortuary. Another part was leaving Sibleyville. And the last thing was starting to build this dream that I've wanted so long. I figured once I was happy and secure in what I was doing, I could be there for you like you need. So, I'll wait for you, however long it takes, because all of this is for you.”

The tears that she thought had dried up returned with full vengeance. “I can't deal with this,” she whispered.

“Yes, you can. You're the strongest person I know, much stronger than me, and if I can do this, then you can definitely do this.”

“I thought you didn't love me.”

He instantly pulled her into his arms. Her tears fell harder because it was as if she had never left. His comforting smell, the hard feel of him. The way he touched her like she was something precious.

“I love you so much that it scares me the hell out of me,” he said softly. “But, I've also realized that's what love is all about. Being scared out of your mind. You just grab on and hope that the person you love is just as scared you are. And there's no one else I want to be scared with.”

She pulled from his arms and swiped at her tears. “Just like that, you expect me to just…to just forgive you and…no, Wyatt. You really hurt me. You had your chance.”

He wrapped his arms around her again, refusing to give her space. “I know, baby, and I'll never forgive myself for making you cry.”

“I hate you,” she said, without much heat. She bit her bottom lip as his eyes shone with so much love that a different type tears filled her eyes. “I really hate you.”

“I deserve it, but I'm going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I promise.”

Quinn clung to his shoulders, scared that she was imagining it and would wake up slapping her alarm clock. But his shirt felt real under her hands, and his body felt warm against hers.

“The rest of your life?” she questioned, shaking her head. “What about your perfect Sibleyville wife? I mean, I don't bake. I wouldn't know a nursery rhyme if it bit me on the ass. And…I'm about as far from your vision of the little wife you could possibly conceive. Although, I do want kids and I don't appreciate your insinuating that I don't. Just not yet. Or not within the next few months.”

“Funny thing. Everything you just said fits all the qualities of a perfect Sibleyville wife.”

She wanted to scream some more, to throw a big tantrum, but then he smiled at her again. That ridiculous, beautiful smile and he touched her bottom lip with his thumb. It was his touch that did it every time.

“Oh, hell,” she muttered, then grabbed his shirt and dragged him to her mouth. He responded with a kiss full of promises and apologies that made her toes curl and her heart sputter back to life.

Quinn heard the sound of a car engine roar to life and she looked over her shoulder to see Charlie driving the Porsche out of the lot.