“Did she ever go back to Poland?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I don’t think she ever wanted to. Her parents didn’t have great memories of it. But I’d like to go someday.”
“Can you make any of the Polish food she used to make? Like those meatballs? Or the pierogies and sausage?”
He smiled. “I haven’t yet, but you just let me know when you’re in the mood for sausage and I will accommodate you.”
“Very funny.” After stacking our bowls and plates, I got up from the table, carried the dishes over to the sink, and began rinsing them.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll do them.” Quinn came in behind me with the leftover salad.
“I don’t mind helping you. But after that, I should get going. I have to get up early for work, and the drive is going to be a bitch tomorrow with all this snow.”
“Do you have to go to work? The roads will still be pretty bad.” He covered the salad serving bowl with plastic wrap and stuck it in the fridge, while I loaded the plates and bowls into the dishwasher.
“Yeah, I do. I took today off to catch up on some things and got nothing done.”
He poked me in the butt. “The allure of my closet was too strong.”
“Oh, shut up.” But I giggled as I rinsed our forks. “I still can’t believe you caught me in there.”
Shaking his head, he carried the leftover pizza into the kitchen and set it on the counter. “I can’t either. It’s a good story, anyway.”
I gasped, whirling to face him with the silverware in my hand. “You can’t tell anyone that story!”
“Why not? It’s hilarious. And it has a great ending.”
“What?” I shrieked. “No!”
“Well, then, I guess you’ll just be that much more motivated to honor your agreement about our dates.”
“That’s blackmail,” I sniffed. “You wouldn’t.”
He shrugged and smiled. “Guess we’ll see.”
I dumped the silverware into the dishwasher. “God, you’re a smug bastard.”
“And you’re a dirty little snoop. Don’t forget your wine glass in my bedroom.”
I tossed my braid and went back to his room to get it, glancing over at the closet and bathroom with a smile. What a crazy day. The sight of his bed made my insides tighten, and for a second I was tempted to suggest another round.
What the fuck? You start breaking your own rules, he’ll think you didn’t mean what you said. He’ll get stupid ideas.
Grabbing the glass off the nightstand, I went back to the kitchen doorway and poked my head in. I didn’t want to get within touching range in case he was planning to bug me about staying over. I was strong, but not steely. Not when it came to him, at least. “Sure you don’t want more help cleaning up?”
“I’m sure.” He stuck the leftover pizza in the fridge. “Now get the hell out of here. Before your face makes me want to cuddle.”
I grinned, ducking out of reach fast. “Night. Thanks for dinner.”
“Night.”
Upstairs, I got ready for bed and set my alarm extra early, since even getting my car out of the garage was going to be a pain in the ass. I’d probably have to shovel the driveway first. Shit, I should have called someone earlier about doing it. Oh well. I could shovel before getting in the shower and call it a workout, right? At least my car wasn’t buried out there like Quinn’s.
For a moment, I felt bad that I hadn’t cleaned out the second garage space for him, a silly passive-aggressive way to let him know I wasn’t happy with him here. I’d do it this weekend.
Switching off the lamp, I snuggled under my covers, curling into a ball. It really was cold tonight. I thought about Quinn in bed below me…bet his body was warm and toasty under the blankets. I felt a little tickle between my legs.
You stay in this bed, Jaime Owens. You had three orgasms today, and that is enough.
Sighing, I got out of bed and turned the heat up a little. My gas bill was probably going to spike this month, but my rules—and my pride—would be intact. I also took an extra blanket from the hall closet and threw it on top of my quilt.
Still, I shivered all night.
Eleven
QUINN
When I heard her door close upstairs, I texted Alex. Hey. Who plows the driveway for you?
Are you making a bad sexual joke?
I had to laugh. No, asshole. We have a ton of snow and Jaime has to go to work in the morning.
I know, I’m just fucking with you. Jaime takes care of it. She either calls or shovels it herself.
I’d been with Jaime all night—which I didn’t think I should mention—and hadn’t heard her call anyone. Is there a shovel in the garage?
Should be.
OK cool. Thanks.
I plugged my phone into the charger and got ready for bed, figuring if I didn’t hear a snowplow in the morning, I’d get up and do it for her. I didn’t have a garage door opener, but there was a key to the service door on the ring Alex had given me.
Fuck, it was cold. I’d have to get used to Michigan winters again. I never slept in clothes, but before I got into bed I put on some pajama pants (part of a set my mother gave me our last Christmas together) and a T-shirt. I got under the covers and stretched out on my back, hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling above me.
I could still smell her, and it made my cock start to stiffen.
She’s up there right now. Was she asleep? Was she warm enough? On nights like this, with the snow coming down and icy wind whistling at the windows, was she ever tempted to break her rule and sleep with someone? Was she ever lonely? She was so different from any woman I’d ever been with. So many contradictions.