The Wild One, page 15
"It would clear your name."
Quinn laughed softly. "It might take more than one confession to make me respectable, wouldn't you say?"
Rachel put her hand on Quinn's shoulder, rubbed it tenderly. "Those who count don't need a confession."
Quinn took Rachel's hand, rubbed it against her cheek. "Thank you. For your faith. And . . ." Quinn looked down at Rachel's hand, her fingers absently smoothing Rachel's skin. "But I guess I keep asking myself if it, if anything, would give me back those years?"
"Nothing could do that." Rachel's heart ached for Quinn.
"That's what I keep telling myself." Quinn frowned. "At the moment it seems enough that the weight of guilt I've been carrying around has been lifted from me. I just feel so much lighter. Freer."
Before Rachel could comment the phone rang, making them both jump. Rachel reached out and picked up the receiver.
"Rachel Weston."
"It's Laurel Greenwood here."
Rachel's hand tightened on the receiver. She could scarcely believe it. But it was Laurel's voice all right. What on earth . . .?
"I'm sorry to disturb you so early, Rachel, but Quinn's phone is apparently not connected yet, and I need to speak to her urgently."
Subconsciously Rachel realized that Laurel's voice gave no indication that she had been drinking heavily the night before. She sounded tired, but if Rachel hadn't seen the other woman swaying down the path with her husband she would never have suspected Laurel had been drunk.
"Nothing's wrong, is it?" Rachel asked guardedly.
"Well, no. Not exactly. Not now. It's just that the police will be calling to see Quinn sometime today, and I wanted to warn her."
"The police?" Rachel turned to look at Quinn, and Quinn straightened, motioning for Rachel to pass her the phone.
"Ah, Quinn's just come in, Laurel. I'll put her on." Rachel handed Quinn the receiver.
Rachel felt as though her whole body was held immobile, a hundred questions flitting through her mind.
"You told the police?" Quinn said into the phone, looking at Rachel in amazement.
Quinn listened, rarely spoke, until eventually she said a quiet good-bye and handed Rachel the phone to return to its cradle.
"Laurel didn't confess, did she?" Rachel asked.
"Apparently. After they got home from the reception she had a fight with Mike. He threw her into the shower to sober her up and then went to bed. She said she just got in the car and drove down to the police station. She said she couldn't live with the guilt any longer." Quinn paused. "She said she was sorry."
Rachel was speechless.
"The police called Mike, and he got a lawyer and was ranting and raving about Laurel being out of her mind and not knowing what she was saying. It must have been a circus."
They looked at each other for long moments.
"And it will continue being just that if Laurel insists on taking it further. Can you imagine, Rachel? It'll be like the last time all over again," Quinn said and rubbed her temples. "I'll have to think about it, what it all means. I don't know if I can go through it again."
"It seems Laurel's taken it out of your hands."
"Maybe I can tell them I don't want to press charges or something. I don't want Katie to have to . . . God, Rachel! What will I do?"
"Whatever you decide to do, I want you to know you don't have to do it on your own." Rachel swallowed. "I'll support you in whatever decision you make."
Quinn turned to Rachel, pushed her gently back against the pillows. "Thank you. For that. And for everything. Rachel, I don't know how to say this. I. . ."
Rachel's heart sank. A million scenarios played in her mind. Was Quinn going to tell her she'd rather go it alone? A small part of Rachel knew she couldn't condemn Quinn for that. Having to face the whole thing again was stressful enough in itself without the added burden of a fledgling romance to contend with: Who could blame Quinn if she decided it was all just too complicated?
Chapter Eighteen
"I love you."
Rachel turned back to look at Quinn. She couldn't seem to breathe. Had she heard Quinn say those three wonderful words, or was it simply wishful thinking?
"I've loved you for the longest time. I want you to know that. But I also don't want to put any pressure on you, Rachel. I know you have the kids to consider. And I have Katie. If you'd rather we kept ..." Quinn shook her head. "I'll understand if you think we should keep our relationship . . ."
Rachel felt a surge of joy that was almost a physical pain. She wanted to crush Quinn to her, cover her with kisses, never let her go. "Our little secret?"
"Well. Yes. Or even if you want to cool it for a while."
I thought you didn’t want a furtive affair," she said thickly.
Quinn held her gaze. "I don't. I want to be honest. I want everyone to know what I feel for you, Rachel. But I also know a relationship is about two people, not just one. And I'm not sure how you see this, well, what we have between us."
"I do have concerns about us," Rachel said carefully. She felt Quinn withdraw slightly, and Rachel slid her arms around her, held her close. "Please, Quinn. Let me finish. I can't pretend not to be worried about how people will see us. My family. Yours. Our friends. But I guess the kids, the three kids, and how they'll cope with it, are my main concern. And I know it won't be easy.
"But I think we could work it out, be a loving family. All families, gay and straight, have their ups and downs, but..." Rachel took a steadying breath. "What I'm trying to say is, I don't want to give us up."
Quinn's face was pale. "You don't?"
"No. I don't. I've been in love with you for years," Rachel said simply. "And I don't want to lose you. Not a second time."
"A second time?"
Rachel touched Quinn's warm cheek with her finger. "Last night, Laurel said . . . Did you really have a crush on me back at school?"
Quinn gave a quick, rueful grin. "A mammoth crush. I used to dream about what I'd, well, that I'd carry you off, make mad passionate love to you." She sobered. "I wanted to be your knight, or whatever the female equivalent is, on a white charger."
"I wish you'd told me back then. I'd have climbed a tower, looked distressed." Rachel stifled a giggle, and Quinn rolled her eyes.
"Looked distressed, indeed. And as for telling you how I felt, well, I was game for any outrageous escapade. Anything except that. Just thinking about it made me weak in the knees."
"And made your stomach churn," Rachel added. "I felt the same way."
"You mean, back then?" Quinn asked incredulously. "Way back then?"
Rachel nodded. "I don't suppose you'll remember, but one day you scraped your knee after a game and you went back for another shower. The gym teacher sent me in to get you. I found you half wrapped in a towel, and I wanted to . . ."
"I do remember. Vividly. And believe me I wanted you to, too."
"But you were so cool, so self-possessed."
"You didn't see me after you left. I nearly keeled over and bloodied my other knee."
Rachel laughed. "What a pair of.. ."
Quinn let her fingertip linger on Rachel's lips. "I still had a thousand demons to lay to rest. The time wasn't right for us then, Rachel."
"It wasn't right for either of us. I certainly didn't have the courage to fly in the face of convention." Rachel sighed. "I was a colossal coward. I ran straight into the arms of Rob and the safety and the respectability of marriage."
"While I chose unrespectability." She grimaced. "Or it chose me."
"Quinn Farrelly. The wild one," Rachel said softly.
"They did call me that, didn't they?" Quinn's mouth quirked.
"But that's in the past." Rachel reminded her.
"For some people it will always hold true." Quinn looked solemnly at Rachel. "Have you considered that, Rachel? No matter what Laurel says, I'll always have my past tagging right along with me."
Rachel recalled her mother's reticence. Then she thought about her cousins, Colleen and Sandy. Can a leopard change its spots? Colleen had asked. But Sandy had declared no matter what Rachel was, it wouldn't make any difference to her. She weighed all this against her love for Quinn.
"That will have to be their problem," she said firmly.
"And after last night I'll be advising everyone not to mess with Rachel Weston." Quinn feigned amazement. "I thought you were going to attack Laurel."
"I'm sorry. I'm not usually like that. I've never considered myself to be a physical person, but I was so angry with Laurel."
"I could see that." Quinn raised her eyebrows at Rachel. "I thought I was supposed to be the one riding the white charger." She paused. "While I was watching you sleeping this morning, I was thinking about you racing in to champion me last night. The way you came rushing to my defense. No one's ever done that for me before. Not like that. I fell in love with you all over again."
Rachel felt the warmth of a flush wash her face. "When did you, well, first realize . . .?"
"That I was in love with you?" Quinn finished, the look in her eyes making Rachel's heartbeats tumble all over themselves, and she nodded.
"Actually it was the morning of my interview."
"That first day?" Rachel was astounded.
"Yes. I knew you owned the business, and Old Dave had told me you did the hiring. So I was prepared to see you. I just wasn't so prepared for how I'd feel when I did.
"I knew I was attracted to you straightaway, but when you were talking on the phone to Rose and you smiled" — Quinn shook her head — "I felt like I'd been hit right about here." She indicated her solar plexus, and Rachel laughed softly.
"I was just recovering from that when you took me out to look over the Garden Center. You got all enthusiastic and your face lit up, and your eyes . . . Wow! I could have happily drowned in those flashing eyes. I knew I was in trouble big time." Quinn looked at Rachel. "How about you?"
"Pretty much the same. Only I hadn't had a chance to look at your resume, so I wasn't forewarned. And when you appeared I just. . . That was it. Try as I may to deny it, I knew my life would never be the same."
"I wish you'd given me just a slight indication you felt like that." Quinn chastised easily. "I was terrified I'd do something, say something out of place and spoil our friendship. I didn't want to do that."
Rachel nodded. "I felt the same. That night we were in the pool and it stormed. I wanted you so much."
Quinn rolled her eyes. "I reckon we were responsible for that storm, with all the electricity we were creating. I knew I couldn't stay and not touch you that night, so I left you. That was a very long night."
"The longest night of my life too."
Quinn laughed, leaned forward, kissed Rachel tenderly on the lips. She lowered herself onto Rachel, and their kiss deepened. When they drew apart they were both breathless.
Quinn glanced at the bedside clock and groaned. "We have to get ready for work soon."
Rachel leaned over and nibbled Quinn's bare shoulder where her nightshirt had slipped down. "Didn't I tell you Phil said last night that he'd open up, that we wouldn't have to rush in."
"He did? Phil is a treasure."
Rachel looked up at Quinn. "You know, I used to think you fancied him."
"You did? And I was busy worrying that he fancied you. Then I realized neither of us had the right equipment for him."
"Right equipment?" Rachel raised her eyebrows.
"Phil's gay."
"Gay?" Rachel was taken aback. "Are you sure?" Even as she voiced the words, a hundred small incidents, half comments, fell into place. "Phil's gay," she repeated, knowing that answered a lot of her unspoken questions.
"He told me one afternoon when we were talking about relationships, about broken hearts." Quinn looked a little sheepish. "I asked him straight out if he had something going with you. Then he asked me straight out if I wanted to have something going with you. One thing led to another, and we both confessed. He's actually got it bad for Ken."
"Ken?" That did astound Rachel. She wouldn't have thought. . . "Is Ken . ..? Does Ken feel the same way?"
"I'm not sure, but I think so." Quinn shrugged faintly. "But Phil also told me he's not ready to come out to his family." She grinned mischievously. "What do you suppose everyone would say if we all came out together? Wouldn't that set the tongues awagging? They'd think there was something in the water out at the Garden Center."
"They might close us down," Rachel said, only half joking.
"Or turn the place into a shrine, and lesbians and gays from all over the world could come and pay homage." Quinn laughed out loud at Rachel's expression. "That was a joke."
"Very funny." Rachel tried to be serious and failed. She chuckled. "You know, you're very perky for someone who's in a vulnerable position here in my arms. And in my bed."
"I guess I'll just have to let you have your wicked way with me." Quinn kissed Rachel, nuzzled her ear.
Rachel felt her senses leap inside her. She took hold of Quinn's nightshirt and helped her slip it over her head, dropping it on the floor by the bed. Then she discarded her own.
Quinn gazed at her, her eyes darkening. "Well, if it's okay with Phil, I think we might take an extra half-hour," she said softly, and Rachel exclaimed indignantly.
"Half an hour?" She cupped Quinn's breast with her hand, her fingers teasing the rosy peak to attention. "Methinks my lady doth underestimate her glorious technique."
"I do?"
"Oh yes. You do." Rachel breathed huskily. "We'll need much, much longer than that."
"What can I say? Except, perhaps, you're the boss."
"And I say there's a little project here that I need your experienced help with, my wild, wild one." Rachel replaced her fingers with her lips, and Quinn groaned.
"I think we should talk about who drives who wild," Quinn said, and Rachel let her other hand slip down over Quinn's stomach.
"Later," she whispered thickly as her fingers found the wet warmth.
"Much, much later." Quinn agreed, her body arching, surrendering to Rachel's seductive touch.
Lyn Denison, The Wild One
