Two Wrongs Make a Right (7 page)

Quinn leaned in for a hug. “It hasn’t been that long. Besides, we’ve talked on the phone several times, and I initiated those calls. You could call once in a while.”

Her mother backed away and eyed Quinn.
God, not here five minutes and already being judged.

Her mom smiled. “You’re right. I should. It’s just I stay so busy, it’s late before I slow down enough to call. The church rummage sale is taking so much of my time. I meet myself coming and going.”

Quinn held out the bag. “I brought you something.”

“How sweet of you.” She removed the tissue, pulled out the candle, and pressed it to her nose.

“It’s your favorite fragrance.”

“I see that. Thank you.” Mom set the gift on the counter and picked up her glass. “Want something to drink? I have soda.”

“No, I’m fine. So you’re in charge of the rummage sale again this year? If I get a chance, I’ll get together some things I don’t wear anymore and get them to you.”

“The Bible Study Ladies will appreciate it.” She motioned toward the sofa, so Quinn walked over and sat. Her mother followed and eased into a side chair. “How’s your dad?”

“Better.”

“Is he seeing anyone?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, I’m sure you take very good care of him.”

She should have taken her mother up on that drink. Something stronger than soda. Quinn swallowed hard. “I have something to tell you.”

“What? That you and Brad are over, and he’s already flown off to New York with another woman?”

Quinn flinched. “How did you…”

“Know? Mary Lou Patterson’s daughter works in the same building as Brad. Water cooler gossip.”

Damn, all this time her mom had known, and had been waiting to throw the news in Quinn’s face. She hung her head. “I’m sorry. I know you expected to have Brad in the family.”

Her mom flapped her hand. “How could you let him get away? You could have had a wonderful life. Travel, social status, a fine home.”

“He didn’t love me.”

“A man doesn’t have to love you, to marry you. He just has to need you for something. Like having a prize to show off. I understand that secretary of his is quite fashionable. It might help if you stopped buying used clothing, and presented yourself as more affluent.”

“There’s nothing wrong with how I dress. The items I buy are almost new. Nobody can tell they come from resale shops.” Quinn glanced down at her shirt and ragged jeans. “What’s wrong with this outfit?”

Her mother’s gaze went from head to toes, then back up again, and settled on Quinn’s face. “Honestly, you look like a throwback to my era. An old hippie. Nobody is wearing large floral prints right now. And those flared sleeves look as if they might set sail.”

“This happens to be a style. It’s called Boho. Short for Bohemian, and believe it or not, it’s
in
.” Quinn congratulated herself for standing up to her mother. She’d gotten used to the constant disapproval, and most days accepted it. But not today.

Her mother took another drink and ignored the remark. “So if you’re unattached again, I have someone in mind. He’s a bit younger, by four or five years, but he’s attractive, and has an insurance office in that strip shopping center on Washington Avenue. If you want to check him out, he does commercials on channel six during the news.”

This was no time to appear desperate. She couldn’t let Mom have the upper hand. Well, she’d already had it, but it was time to change that. “I’m already seeing someone. A teacher.” What was happening? She was sass-talking her mother. Before she could go on, the doorbell rang, and she went to answer it.

“Hello, Quinn,” Mrs. Walker said. “I thought I recognized your car.” The frail woman shoved two brown bags toward her. “I brought you some fresh bread and hoped you’d take a loaf to your Granddad.”

Mrs. Walker had always had a thing for Gramps. Funny that women her age were still interested in men. Quinn turned that over in her mind. Would she be trying to find a husband when she was in her seventies? Breath caught in the back of her throat. Lord Jesus, she should start baking bread now. “I’ll be happy to. Thank you.”

“Marita tells me you’re engaged.”

Mom sprung from her chair like a jumping jack and waved a hand in the air. “Oh that’s all off the table, Eula. I misspoke. Quinn’s managed to let another one get away. But no need to worry. She’s already seeing someone else. Let’s keep our fingers crossed this one works out.”

Anger rose in Quinn’s cheeks. She had to get out of there before her sass became involuntary
momslaughter
. Because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could control herself, she grabbed her purse, and inched past the old woman. “Nice to see you Mrs. Walker.” When she reached the doorway, she turned back to Mom. “I have to go.”

Mom set her drink down. “Oh, all right. You should come more often. Keep me up to date about what’s going on in your life so I don’t have to hear it through the grapevine.”

“I will. Bye.”

Mom yelled from the door. “Tell your dad hello.”

“Will do,” she said over her shoulder.

After leaving, Quinn fumed for the next several miles. More affluent my ass. Did her mother think Brad left because of the way Quinn dressed? That was a ridiculous notion. Or was it? Maybe he’d wanted someone more sophisticated. A woman who subscribed to fashion magazines, studied art literature, and crooked a pinky when she drank tea. Quinn didn’t do those things, but she had plenty of good qualities. Hair. She had great hair. Thick and shiny. Boobs. Nice boobs. Not too big, but not too small. Skin. Damn good skin. She willed the negativity away and turned toward Dad’s to deliver the bread. A short visit with him always lifted her spirits, and after the encounter with Mom, they were at rock bottom.

Hours later, back at home, she studied her outfit in the mirror, first turning one way, then the other. She liked the look. Mom didn’t have a clue what was in or out when it came to fashion. Besides, what did she expect her to wear on a Tuesday?

“Hey, you two,” she said to Lucy and Ethel, who sprawled in the middle of the bed. “Do these jeans look bad? What about the big flowery shirt, in or out?” Neither cat moved. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Quinn undressed, put on a pair of pajama pants and an old tee shirt, then went to the kitchen. She returned with a bag of potato chips, a bottle of water, and her laptop. Piling pillows behind her, she crawled onto the bed, and sat crossed legged. It was time to get serious and find a suitable man. She’d show her mom, and catch a guy that wanted more than arm candy. Damn her.

To do that, a checklist of qualities might make an interesting article. Get your head straight about what type of partner you’re searching for and not waste time. Nobody was perfect, but guidelines would help. She’d tailor the list according to her tastes and encourage readers to do the same for theirs. Opening the laptop, she typed.

If you’re single and want to end that status, I suggest you make a list of what you want in a mate. Mine are below. Your preferences may be different, but if you’re a member of a dating site, they will help keep you focused on making the right choices.

She drew her brows together. What was the main thing she insisted on?

1. Family-He must want children and this is non-negotiable.

2. Faithfulness-Once he vows to forsake all others, I expect no less.

3. Romance-I want a man who kisses me for no reason, and hugs me because he wants to touch me. Random phone calls just to hear my voice. Too much to ask? Absolutely not.

Quinn opened the bag of chips and shoved one in her mouth. They were one of her weaknesses. She loved everything about them. Smell. Salt. Crunch. The grease on her fingers. She pulled a tissue from the box on the table, wiped her hands, took a sip of water, and continued.

4. Humor-The ability to laugh at himself and make others laugh.

5. Generosity-Must give to those less fortunate. Time or money.

Lucy roused and groomed Ethel, licking her face. Quinn smiled at the display of affection.

6. Animal lover-Or at least, animal liker. Especially cats.

7. Ambitious-He doesn’t have to be focused on climbing the corporate ladder, but have enough desire to advance in some regard.

Concentrate, she told herself. This would help keep her focused on qualified men. At her age, things couldn’t be left to chance. Her biological clock wasn’t just ticking, it was chiming like Big Ben.

8. Intelligent-Book smart is good, but for me, common sense is more important.

9. Sexually attractive-Let’s face it. I won’t get those kids I want if he doesn’t have this.

10. Dominance/Assertive-The kind where he takes charge, or makes a stand to defend his beliefs. A man comfortable with who he is. One who can be strong, but not afraid to show his softer side.

She read over the list. With some tweaking, it’d be ready to submit. If she met a guy with the majority of those points, she’d be happy. One thing was for sure. She didn’t want a man who did magic unless it was in the bedroom, and any sweet nothings whispered better not be in IM code.

The minute Dak pulled into his parents’ drive, an uneasy feeling crawled up his spine. He didn’t recognize the red Malibu. He’d already gotten an email from his sister earlier with pictures, so something had to be up with this. A setup hadn’t happened in a while, but now that Shelly was history, he feared the worst.

He sat in his truck for a moment, contemplating his next move. Leave. Text he had to work late. Or better yet, he’d been there, saw the car, assessed the situation, and wanted no part of it. Sim would call later to confirm his horse’s ass status. Mom would call to apologize, and swear she had nothing to do with it. Dad would call to tell Dak to be nice to his sister and mother. Dealing with three phone calls would be as bad as sitting through a dinner with a surprise date.
Screw it.

He got out and lumbered across the lawn. Giggles and screams came from the backyard, so he walked around the corner of the house to the gate, and shoved it open. Rachel and Hannah ran to meet him. “Uncle Dak!”

When they reached him, he slipped an arm around each girl, lifted them, and twirled. “How’re my two favorite nieces?”

“We’re your only nieces,” Rachel said.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot that.”

“You’re silly,” Hannah said.

“That’s why you love me.” He gave each girl a kiss on the cheek and set them back on the ground.

Hanna’s big brown eyes widened. “Momma has a new girlfriend for you.”

“I don’t need one, but how does she look? Is she missing any teeth?”

The eight-year-old fell into a giggling fit, light brown curls flying in every direction. “Noooo.”

“What about her hair? Does she have some or is she bald?”

“She has long hair.”

“She’s pretty.” A year older and a carbon copy of her younger sister, Rachel crossed her arms. “And nice. She’s my substitute teacher. Mom said you couldn’t do any better.”

He arched a brow. “Did she now?” He leaned down to their eye level, putting a hand on each girl’s shoulder. “For your information, your momma doesn’t know everything.”

The backdoor opened and the matchmaker stepped to the porch. “Come inside, Dak. I have someone I want you to meet.”

He spun around and frowned. He loved his twin, but sometimes wanted to choke her. Today, he fought the urge with all he had. “Yeah. That’s what I hear.” He moved to join her, then whispered. “Didn’t you get my email? Not interested.”

“Don’t get your boxers in a bunch. This isn’t the girl from the photos I sent. This is someone else. I’ll introduce you, and you can take it from there.”

“You don’t get it. Rachel said she works at the school. That makes this awkward. If I’m not interested in her or if she doesn’t like me, then it’s an embarrassing situation for you, Rachel, and the teacher. Not good. Now I feel obligated to take her out.”

As he finished the last remark, he was thankful he’d kept his voice quiet, because the guest appeared in the doorway. He lost his breath and excitement stirred his groin. She was knockout gorgeous.

She gave a slow flutter of her lashes, then licked her lips, and stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Vanessa Collins. It’s nice to meet you.”

Four different positions of how he wanted to have sex with her flashed in his mind at lightning speed. Damn, he was horny and from her come-and-get me look, so was she.

~~*~~

Later that night, he marked two of those sex fantasies off his list. The beauty lay naked beside him, breathing steady and even. Her long blonde hair fanned out across the pillow, her face relaxed. Vanessa was bright and focused on her career. She’d just moved to the area and gotten hired for the fall term at Rachel’s school. She was also energetic in bed. Something he appreciated.

She opened her eyes and yawned. “Is it morning?”

“No. You want a drink? Soda, wine, beer?”

“Wine, please.”

He swung his feet to the floor and pulled on his pajama pants. “Be right back.” A few minutes later, he returned with two glasses already filled and offered one.

She lifted to a sitting position and piled pillows behind her back. “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

He’d hoped to do it again within the next hour. “Sure. How’s Saturday night? There’s this great little restaurant a few blocks from here.”

She took a long, slow sip then puckered her lips. “I’m not interested in dating. I’m engaged.”

He choked on his wine. “What?”

“Don’t worry. He won’t come charging through the door or hunt you down. He’s in Iraq. Been there eight months. I love him, but I need sex every now and again.”

Dak’s stomach churned. He’d done a tour in Iraq and saw guys get Dear John letters and how it ripped them apart. “Get out.”

She sat straighter. “What?”

“You heard me. I thought you were unattached.”

She scooted to the side of the bed, set her glass on the nightstand, and dressed. “Good grief. I haven’t led you on. I made it clear I’m not interested in a relationship.”